Smoke-Mouth is a dystopian supernatural novella. This is Episode Seventeen.
Click HERE to start at the beginning. Click HERE to head back to the Navigation Page.
—
Previously, a gathering against the dark.
In this episode, Jenny leads the engineers up the mountain.
—
If you enjoy this tale, please help it gain a bit of traction by liking, commenting, sharing, and restacking. Every bit of engagement boosts posts in the algorithm and helps this story to find its audience!
If you’re interested in following along with this story through the summer and into September, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE to receive every weekly installment in your inbox!
Everything was different. It was impossible to say how.
Something about the air in the valley. It sang with cold clarity, a new smell.
Pellig clung to Jenny’s shoulder and leaned into the side of her head, his one eye closed in waking rest, as she picked her way through the dimly lit woods, trying to find the road Northcote had shown them that led back up the mountain, to Lula, or at least she hoped.
It had only been a few days before, but it felt like a year of wandering. The way was heavy with choking shrubs and stones, but the air—
“Pellig,” Jenny said softly.
He murmured a reply.
“What are you? You and your kind?”
She felt him shift and fluff beside her ear. “How do you mean?”
“We call you angels, but that’s not…I mean, I imagine you don’t call yourselves that. What are you really?”
Pellig paused for so long in replying that Jenny thought maybe he had fallen asleep, or chosen to ignore her. But eventually he replied, “How exactly would you answer if I were to ask you the same question? What are you, really?”
Jenny shivered her head, careful not to shake him loose. “I didn’t mean offense.”
“No offense taken. It’s just not a simple question. It’s a very…well, it’s the kind of question only a human would ask.”
He didn’t say it like an insult, but Jenny felt the gentle sting regardless. She decided to approach from a different angle. “Did y’all come from somewhere?”
Pellig huffed a laugh. “We came from here. We’ve always been here. You are the ones who came from somewhere.”
Jenny shrugged lightly. An argument wasn’t worth breaking the tender truce they had formed over the last day or so. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”
Pellig sighed and renegotiated the grip of his claws in the shoulder of her coat.
“You humans live in a haunted world,” he said, “but you don’t always get to see it. Just glimpses, sometimes. Echoes on the edge of vision, or encounters with the unexplainable. Your folk slip through the veil and vanish because you don’t see it, like stepping off a curb. It’s something about the way your eyes are. You only have two, makes it difficult to see everything that exists. But we see you. We watch.”
Jenny wondered, for the first time, what having one eye might do to a creature used to many. But she did not ask.
“When the quakes came, it broke whatever shield there had been between us. You saw us, and we could touch you. It wasn’t the first time. The humans who lived in this land first, they knew. They tell stories about us, about quakes and fires and cracks in the world. They have their own names for us. But time passed, and you walked this country as strangers. So you didn’t recognize us when you saw us. You called us angels. I’ve always wondered why. Maybe as a joke.”
Jenny considered this. “So, there is no repair. This is the world now.”
Pellig preened a feather out of the underside of his wing and it fluttered to the ground. “In some sense, this is the way the world has always been. But yes, this is the world now. And we must all find a way to live in it.”
“We can’t live alone, the way your kind want us to,” Jenny said. “You like to separate us. But we have to find each other. We have to connect, city to city, soul to soul. It’s the only way we survive.”
“You destroy yourselves when you gather,” Pellig replied. “Is it not so?”
“Yes, but…” Jenny didn’t know how to answer that. “But when we try…”
She let her words die on her tongue so that she could turn her head, listen hard for the swell of a strange sound through the trees, sudden like a breeze. It reminded her of the garble of geese flocking overhead, or the singsong gossip of a river.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.
“I have one eye, but two ears,” said Pellig.
Jenny ignored the sarcasm and pushed forward toward the sound, parting branches and tumbling over rocks and roots, until she stumbled out into a clearing carpeted with moss and found the last sight she expected to see.
It was Ellen, brilliant white in the sunlight, ghostly edges fuzzy and dark eyes shining, striding with purpose down a rutted road. The same road Northcote had shown them. And behind her, following, was a crowd. Dozens of people, fifty or sixty, most wearing the same kind of uniforms Northcote had been wearing, grubby faced and wild-haired from time starving in the woods. But their excited chatter swelled, a musical cadence of dozens of conversations from throats that had only recently re-learned how to express joy.
One of the men, following just behind Ellen, noticed Jenny. His eyes and face lit up and he came running.
“It’s you! It’s you!”
It was Northcote. His face was flushed with thrill.
In spite of herself, Jenny smiled wide as he approached and she crossed the distance to meet him, Pellig grabbing hard to keep from toppling off her shoulder.
She clasped Northcote’s hands in hers.
“What’s all this?” she asked, breathless. Ellen, noticing Jenny, gamboled over with white tail wild. The crowd paused, waiting.
“She found us,” Northcote said, glancing over at Ellen with wonder. “All of us engineers, sent in teams to repair the tower over the years. She found us, and she gathered us up. For what reason I don’t know. But we’re all here, save the ones who passed long ago.”
He noticed Pellig on Jenny’s shoulder for the first time and stiffened, warily, letting go of her hands. “What’s that thing doing here?”
“Pellig means no harm, and will do no harm,” Jenny said. “If he does, he knows I’ll wring his neck myself.”
She expected Pellig to respond with an insulted fluffing of feathers, but he didn’t. There was a quiet acceptance to the way he clung to her shoulder, holding tightly, leaning in. She could feel the flutter of his bird-like heartbeat through her own skin.
Northcote was not fully satisfied by this answer, but Jenny turned away from him, in the general direction of the mountain, and said, “The tower. That’s why Ellen gathered you, and that’s where we need to go. If Lula is still alive, that’s where she’ll be.”
Then she stepped forward to address the engineers. “I would never ask any of you to risk your lives again. But if there’s any hope of fixing what the quakes broke, it starts with repairing the tower, for good this time. Eight years is too long…far too long to be alone.”
The engineers shuffled their feet.
Northcote cleared his throat and stepped up to stand beside Jenny. She had not noticed, until then, that he was handsome in his own way.
“The more of us there are, the harder it’ll be for the angels to stop us,” Northcote said. “If we can’t repair the tower together, then no one can.”
*******
Ellen led the way. Jenny followed her, with Northcote behind, and the rest of the engineers—all of them, for none turned back—filed up in a long, snaking, good-humored line.
Their tide of talk was a strange comfort to Jenny, and she thought again of Yelm and its windblown prairie quiet. This was sweeter to her ear, somehow, this chatter. The sound of fear had been transmutated into conversation.
It was a miracle to rival any of the marvels she had seen on the journey.
She hoped, and not for the first time, that Joe and the survivors of Tintagel were safe in New Riffe, talking like this. Surrounded by good conversation in the midst of the uncertainty. She hoped they would know this kind of gathering for the rest of their lives, no matter what happened on this mountain.
They passed the place on the trail up where Pellig had stopped them in their previous ascent, and Jenny paused with reverence. She could still see the place where the dust had scuffed, where Lula had collapsed. Pellig shivered beside her.
“Go on,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop here. The shame still reeks.”
As they crested the hill, the tower loomed over them, a silent skeleton of steel, the red light at its top unlit like a stopped heart. Below the tower in a patch of trees was a compound of sorts, a small scattering of cabins and outbuildings and sheds. They were not built to last and had the sagging look of tents left outside longer than intended, mildewed and forlorn.
The engineers passed Jenny like a river as they entered the compound with confidence. They knew the place intimately, and stepping into it was like stepping back into themselves, splitting off into groups to seek out their cabins, closed crypts containing clues of their former lives. They were hungry and thirsty, looking for supplies.
The door of one cabin opened and a woman and a man stepped out onto the slim porch, their eyes wide with some mix of alarm and disbelief. The woman had brassy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face drawn with fatigue. The man had black hair and a black beard and dark eyes that had probably been friendly and curious once, but were now suspicious and afraid.
Jenny startled when she saw them, and Pellig reacted to her increased pulse.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I know them,” she breathed. “Or, at least, I’ve seen them before. In my dreams.”
Northcote called out, “Amanda! Veer!” and ran to them, but while their faces flickered with recognition and even a hint of joy, they did not respond. They opened their mouths and no sound came out.
Jenny knew that feeling well.
“Alright then, angel mine,” she said. “Our first problem to solve presents itself.”
He sighed, a short and resolved sound. “Take me closer.”
She walked up to the woman and the man, Amanda and Veer, and they watched her approach—seeing Pellig on her shoulder—with anxiety written all over their faces, their posture. But Northcote said to them, “Don’t be afraid. We’re going to fix everything.”
Jenny climbed the porch. Beside her, she barely felt Pellig shift, but she knew he would do what he had done for her—a long blink—and that their throats would burn.
The effect was instant. Amanda coughed, and Veer made a humming sound of surprise, and the two of them instinctively reached for each other’s hands. The intimacy of the gesture made Jenny’s heart squeeze.
“The girl,” she said. “The girl in the patchwork coat. Is she here?”
It was Amanda who nodded, her voice a low whistle from lack of use.
“Yes,” she said, pointing at the cabin. “She’s inside.”
Jenny gave her a grateful nod and passed by, entering the cabin.
*******
It was dark within. Not just an unlit darkness, but a despairing one, too. This cabin had soaked up tears and blood and the mute gibberish of grief and seemed to buzz with it, the leftover ringing after a bell’s sound is spent.
It was a small space, just a place to sleep in between days of long work. There were two beds, a small desk, footlockers, hooks for coats. The walls were bare, the windows curtained tight against the prying eyes of the trees.
In one bed lay Lula, curled up much like she had been when they left her on the trail.
Jenny approached on soft feet and sat beside the girl on the bed. The movement was familiar; it had been much like this in Tintagel, when Lula was too spent to move. But this time, Lula didn’t stir when Jenny sat.
Pellig climbed down her arm, carefully, and settled himself in his own crook of blankets beside Lula’s sleeping form.
“Is she dead?” Jenny whispered, but she knew the answer—she could see Lula breathing lightly—so she followed it up with, “Fix it, Pellig.”
Pellig shrugged his thin shoulders. “There’s nothing to fix. This is not due to what I did. This is something else.”
Jenny gently shook Lula’s shoulder, but the girl lay motionless, breathing in sleep.
“Lula…” Jenny said. “Please, we’re so close… so close…”
But Lula lay curled into herself, a tragic cocoon, and the sight of her jogged loose a memory in Jenny’s mind: a little dark-haired girl curled in her bed in a little red house by the sea, because her daddy was dead and her mother said they had to leave. They had to pack up and move somewhere south, somewhere far away from the sea and the nodding California poppies and the big table in the backyard. They had to leave the only home she had ever known. And the girl curled into herself like a snail, and cried, and hoped she could sink into the house and become part of it.
And she had. In a way.
Jenny reached out and rested her hand on Lula’s cheek. That little piece of herself had grown into a beautiful, courageous person. Like a daughter, and just as strange.
“I understand,” she whispered, hoping it would be true if she said it aloud.
Then Jenny picked up the wide-brimmed hat from where it hung on the metal bedframe, and she put it on her own head, her father’s dark crown. She gathered Pellig back onto her shoulder where he perched under the hat’s brim, and she left the cabin.
When she emerged into the wan, filtered sunlight, Northcote and Amanda and Veer were sitting on one side of the porch, telling each other stories of the last weeks, months, however long they had been apart. The engineers were passing in and out of the cabins in the compound, finding the things they had left behind, laughing with delight and confusion at being restored, sharing supplies.
But Ellen was standing beside the porch, flicking her tail, waiting for Jenny.
“Hey girl,” she said, wishing she could stroke the horse’s soft nose. “You did good. Stay here and keep an eye on Lula, will you?”
Ellen nickered softly in understanding.
Jenny crossed the porch to where Northcote sat with Amanda and Veer. She knelt down beside him. Amanda and Veer leaned away slightly, eyes flickering to Pellig, but their faces were open and curious.
“You look familiar,” Amanda said to Jenny. “Have we met before?”
“Not really,” Jenny said. “But our purposes are aligned. That girl in there—reaching this mountain was her goal, and I think it’s because we were supposed to meet.”
“Northcote says you intend to repair the tower,” said Veer.
“Is it possible?”
“It’s possible,” he replied, glancing at Pellig, “but the angels will prevent it.”
“Even so, none of this ends until the tower is repaired,” Jenny said. “Do you know how?”
Amanda looked at Veer, then back at Jenny. “Yes. It’s damaged, but it’s not beyond fixing. We’ve kept careful notes and records, thinking they might be useful for whoever came after us. With so many of us here to do it, it could be done.”
This benediction—this agreement—was like a spell.
Northcote, Amanda, and Veer gathered the engineers. It was an unwieldy group representing multiple teams from years of attempts, and some of their original members had been taken or killed by the angels. But slowly, with patience and delegation, they sorted and organized, determined who had which expertise, and began to strategize how the repair could be done, and quickly.
Jenny stayed out of the way, on the cabin porch, watching the dance unfold. There was something beautiful about the efficiency of it, the way each person fell into their own role as easily as if they had never been interrupted. She paid special attention to Northcote as he moved through the gathered engineers, offering opinion and encouragement; the wild and fearful man he had been in the valley fell away slowly, replaced by the expert he truly was.
An hour or so passed. As the group started to gather tools, compare final notes, and put plans to action, Jenny felt a frisson from the south and turned to look out and down at the valley. Pellig murmured something beside her cheek, but she didn’t hear it over the blood thundering in her ears.
There was no wind, yet the treetops down the mountain’s slope danced, frantic with the slow and steady gathering of angels.
Click HERE to read on! ⏩
Click HERE to head back to the Navigation Page. 🏔
✨Talebones runs on YOUR support! ✨
My Tip-Jar! - Enjoying this story? Show your appreciation with a one-time tip!
Work With Me! - Looking for an editor, beta reader, proofreader, or copywriter? Look no further! Check out my NEW Work With Me site for rates and services.
Shop My Books! - Explore my self-published works, both ebook and paperback, available from various retailers!
Visit the Gift Shop! - Grab a piece of Talebones swag for your very own! Mugs, tees, hats, sweatshirts, and more, updated seasonally!
I can completely sympathise with the opinion of Pellig and the angels about humans, and what happens when they gather - against their better nature of living naturally in small groups, with the immanence of the Goddess a constant presence. I also believe this is what the Goddess herself wants. What humans (ironically) call 'civilisation' has been - in her eyes - a failed experiment. In which case, the only remaining question is - what is she going to do to bring about this return?
I've been leaning towards the asteroid option. Especially in my new dystopian series.
But certainly, by inserting that bit - the angels' point of view - you have masterfully removed all the distinction between 'good guys' and 'bad guys'. Each species is simply doing what their species does.
Will there be a reconciliation? Has become the key question. Knowing you, Sally, I bet there will be - somehow...
I can't believe we're so close to the end. This world you've created has really got hold of me.