Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I look over his shoulder as the last of the web falls from my body, and I see a creature more impressive than almost any I have seen so far. The monarch is very tall, and has an air of ominous authority.
He has very dark skin, dotted here and there with white spots that nature clearly intended to look like either eyes or some kind of prototypical morse code threat. Unlike Order, who can at least somewhat pass as being human for as long as it takes to buy supplies from a drunk miner, there is no way this mutant is ever going to fit in with human society. He’s as strange as strange can be. I stare, mouth open, thoroughly impressed and frankly, more than a little afraid.
There’s something very intense about his bearing. His eyes are dark and though there are only two of them, which might make him look more humanoid, they are very large and absolutely pitch black. Two vengeful voids, you might say if you were poetically inclined.
It’s his wings that draw the most attention though. They are broad, black and orange, each of them twice as large as his body. He looks like a walking stained glass sculpture as he strides toward us. This is the butterfly that beats its wings and changes the fate of the world.
“There you are,” he says, his first words containing bass and dominance and more than a little irritation. “I have searched the world for you, Order. Did you really think I would not find you?”
Order turns toward his older brother. “I know monarchs are capable of migrating great distances,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d bother, given all that has happened, and all that has not.”
“Monarchs are capable of asking you why you suddenly thought running away was a good choice, given the war has escalated.”
“Wait,” I whisper in Order’s ear. “Is he a monarch as in butterfly, or is he a monarch as in king?”
“I am the oldest among us,” the monarch says, hearing my question and choosing to answer it. “And you are the second human to infiltrate our…”
“Not actually technically a human anymph…”
I don’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because Order has clapped his webby hand over my mouth and quite literally stuck it shut so I can’t say anything else.
“I know what happened to her,” the monarch says. “I have been briefed by Justice and Stealth.”
That news makes Order bristle. “If you’ve come to try to force me to abandon her, you are wasting your time, Fury.”
“I have not come to force you to do anything. I’m not going to make that kind of mistake. Nobody has ever been able to tell you anything, Order. You’ve always had a strong sense of duty, and I can see that continues.”
This guy is smart, incredible looking, and absolutely in control of himself, if not everybody around him. I am impressed.
“Let me tell you what remains of our father’s work,” Fury says. “Absolutely nothing. Our home was destroyed to the atomic level. We are now spread across the country, and indeed, across the world. This means that we can now be hunted down and picked off, one by one. You may think that you have escaped the war, but I’ve come to warn you, there is no escape. If I can find you, others can. Maybe they will not come today, or tomorrow, but you can be assured that they will come.”
“What do you want, Fury?” Order sighs.
“I want you to consider opening your home to some refugees. We need to rebuild strongholds. We need to create defenses. We need you.”
It’s a short, but stirring speech, and Order is not unaffected. It’s almost as if he too has been thinking about these matters. I knew it. I knew hiding in the Outback would never satisfy him.
“There are many abandoned mines in this region of the world. Their subterranean reaches are potentially very useful for us, and secure besides,” Order says.
“Exactly. These are places we can lurk and breed. We need to establish satellite bases for those of us who are choosing to create families. Justice and his human mate are now proud parents of twelve.”
“Awesome,” I deadpan to myself. I don’t really want to hear more about that. I’m glad she’s happy, and safe. That really is all that matters, but I will forever be sad at the way our lives suddenly diverged.
I am not dressed to receive royalty. I am wearing short shorts and a tank top, and what the Australians call jandals. The floppy rubber is held to my feet by rubber straps that run up over the sides of my feet and dive between the gap between my big toe and whatever you call the toe next to it. They make a satisfying shlick shlick sound when I walk. But enough about the jandals. I am meeting a monarch.