***

Fifth Stitch

Refuse to forgo the Calling, and you will die from it.

***

I lift a paw, with the intent of placing it within the male Risen’s hand. I cannot avenge Mother with my corpse sunken at the bottom of the Iron Sea. Emilia closes her eyes, and falls to her knees. Two gorilla Acolytes step out from the crowd, and advance towards her position.

My three other legs stop touching the ground.

I bark in surprise, and look down at the rapidly moving floor. A Risen arm is wrapped around my body, carrying me away from the scene. I turn my eyes upwards, and meet Juliet’s welding helmet. Behind the mask, her voice drops an octave, transforming her tone from cheerful to threatening.

“See for the blind. Hear for the deaf. Speak for the mute. Suffer no treachery.”

The Cocoon-dwellers’ new leader doesn’t even flinch. With the same arrogance, he speaks again.

“I was thinking of sparing you, but now that you have chosen to recite heretical Forge scripture inside our blessed Pool, I understand how little you value your life. We have hundreds of faithful Acolytes armed with teeth and claws, and you have a set of beginner tools with a missing screwdriver. And a small canine, which almost killed you. Forge-dweller foolishness is truly something else.”

“And a toy. For traitorous dogs like you to chew on,” she adds.

Juliet reaches in her pocket, and pulls out a hand-sized ball of cobalt. Blue lines glimmer across its surface every other second. Her arm trembles while holding it. Drops of sweat soon trail across her forehead as she struggles to keep the weapon in her grasp.

“As soon this sphere collides against the floor, it will zoom across this room at ten times the speed of a bullet. Every time it lights up, it draws power from the Spindle’s energy field, and regains its lost velocity. If I were to uncurl my fingers right now, it would still be bouncing on the walls of the Pool tonight. The Elder Smiths would find our corpses reduced to a bloody pulp from the repeated impacts. Naturally, the amount of effort I’m willing to provide to keep this orb in my hand depends on you.”

Lionel realizes the gravity of the situation, and lifts his palm to recall the two gorillas among the congregation. Emilia seizes this opportunity to stand up, and dart across the room. Mother points at one of the silkroot ladders near her position, and invites Juliet and I to join her with a flick of her fingers.

“Go up,” my Parent says.

The Forge-dweller nods. She begins climbing with her left arm wrapped around my body, while holding the sphere in her hand. The cold metal of the orb’s surface caresses against my belly, making my fur stand on end. I pray that she will not have to use it.

Emilia follows behind, pushing Juliet upwards with her palm, as to assist her ascension. Burdened, but tenacious, we make it to the first platform. I drop down on the catwalk, and the metal resounds. The Cocoon-dwellers watch our progress, powerless to stop it.

“Give me something sharp,” says Mother.

The mechanic takes out a pair of cobalt scissors from her apron, and passes it to my Parent. Emilia grabs the silkroot fibers dangling below, and begins cutting away the rope. The blades only sever one or two strands with every snip.

“The tool of a Novice Smith, measured against the pinnacle of the Cocoon’s ingeniosity. This may take a while,” she says.

A sweet scent accumulates in my nostrils; one of the many odours the beehives use to communicate. I allow it to linger inside my snout for a few seconds, and attempt to identify it. Does it mean Friend? Fear? Approval? I loved walking in the Cocoon’s Apiary as a pup, and trying to understand this aromatic language.

Pain? My body ached, while that sugary smell floated in the air. Needles punctured my skin. That was my final visit to the Apiary. “The Calling ravages our home yet again,” said Emilia.

Attack. That’s it.

A buzzing sound soon confirms my suspicions. I tense up and yelp, trying to warn my two Risen friends.

Juliet screams.

“No! Catch it!” yells Lionel.

The cobalt ball slips from the Forge-dweller swollen hand. It accelerates at breakneck speed. A gray snake dashes towards the falling sphere, and curls around to catch it on his tail. The orb crashes one rat’s paw distance away from him, colliding with the metal floor. I bark.

The device stops moving.

The ball opens like a flower, and reveals a black liquid. It leaks, tarnishing the cobalt with a nasty dark stain.

“What?” whispers Juliet. “How?”

“A vial of Iron Sea water! The Forge-dweller tricked us!”—Lionel points towards the corpse of a bee lying on the floor—”Don’t let your Acolyte’s sacrifice be in vain! Get these traitors off the Hive, now!”

War cries answer his order. A falcon leaves her Risen Mother’s gloved hand, and takes off. A black spider exits its terrarium, and speeds across the metal bars surrounding the Pool’s hexagonal alcoves. The rest of the congregation soon follows their lead, until every claw, drop of venom, and stinger is aiming for our flesh.

I whimper, and place my muzzle against Emilia’s knee. I pray to the Four Strands for help. They do not answer, and the Acolytes prepare to strike. I answered the Calling, and this is my penance.

Air flows on my fur. The wind batters against my tail. The joints in my front legs stretch. I open my eyes. Emilia spins faster around, with her hands around my paws. The Pool dissolves into a mess of lights and motion. Where is Juliet? Mother speaks.

“Your silence is mine, and my voice is yours. Be well, my child.”

Her grip weakens. She lets go. A force pulls me away. I catch a final glimpse of her blue eyes, inching further and further away. Strength and resolve, bound within two orbs of sight.

Yellow slime intrudes my nostrils and my ears, deafening and asphyxiating me. The Nectar Pool engulfs my body.