《Rhapsody》


 1.

    Up above the hill the stars were creeping across the sky, but from the inside they could only be felt, not seen. The faint music of the winds and grasses did not penetrate here, either ¨C against the drumming and the raucous screeches of horns it had no chance.


    Miranda waved down a bottle, pouring herself some wine. Earlier that evening, this small magic would¡¯ve gained her a stare, but by now things had changed.


    ¡®Hey! Human!¡¯ Bluebell flicked the creature¡¯s ear, hard enough to hurt. ¡®Hey! Hey¡­¡¯


    But the human was too far gone. At first, she recalled, it had looked at the dancing lights and the spells that sent things flying up in the air, and she had seen wonder in its eyes, and awe ¨C of the magic, and of those who cast it. It had put up a fight when they caught it, tried to kick and scratch and bite all the way to the hill ¨C but when they had taken it inside it had quieted abruptly, and only blinked in happy bewilderment at the marvelous sights. Humans were easy that way, Miranda knew from long experience: they revered magic above all else, and when faced with it melted like spring ice, and fought no more. Like those before it, it followed Miranda¡¯s people now, and their orders, with a wretched kind of devotion; and like all that came before, too, it had obediently drunk all of the wine they had given to it. Now the influence had penetrated and subjected its mind, and it sat on the floor, staring into nothing, for the time being more or less gone from the world.


    Now it moved away from Bluebell¡¯s touch, jerking its head as if trying to shake off a fly ¨C but the reflex was sluggish, late. Its eyes were glazed and golden; whatever color they had been earlier, now they would remain this way, changed by the spells and the experience. Only minutes before a human was to expire the color would fade to black. Perhaps it would not take very long with this particular creature, Miranda thought ¨C the poor shape it was already in was not promising.


    There was nothing to be done now that could shake the human out of this state, but Miranda knew Bluebell did not like to be ignored.


    ¡®Let it be,¡¯ she said, before he could do damage. Languidly she leaned back on her settee, and was glad to see that his gaze slid, instead, to her. ¡®Have some wine. There¡¯ll be plenty of time yet to play with it when it comes around, but you must not break it too soon. Others won¡¯t like it.¡¯


    ¡®I guess so.¡¯ Disappointed but distracted now, Bluebell reached for the wine ¨C and fast as a flap of butterfly wings she saw the look in his eyes change as his eyes fell onto the musicians and the circle that was gaining speed around the leaping, growing flame.


    ¡®Would you like to dance?¡¯ Bluebell asked, turning bodily to face her. His mood altered completely, and as she saw the energy enervating him, the magic outlining his every move, she abruptly wanted him gone now that his impulse clashed with hers.


    ¡®No.¡¯ She waved a hand towards the circle, the fire. ¡®There are many willing ladies there, I¡¯m sure.¡¯


    He did not try to convince her.


    ¡®True.¡¯ He stood up. ¡®I will go there, then.¡¯


    Quick as a snake, he slid into the throng, and after a moment she saw him catch the waist of one of the Queen¡¯s ladies and whirl her round. It took a moment for Miranda to recognize her, to remember her name ¨C Dittany. Now she was laughing, teasing him. Even across this distance Miranda could see the currents rise around the two, lifting them up on the waves of heat. Still, the Queen¡¯s lot were not easy prey; and suddenly the contact was broken as Dittany darted away, leaving Bluebell suddenly behind, making the walls ring with her mirth. He chased after her as she dipped and jumped, leading and avoiding, because what worth was a man if he could not even play the game? Miranda could enjoy it, too, when it felt right, but right now it did not, and she looked away.


    She did not like to admit it, but the day¡¯s hunt had tired her more than usual. It was strange, come to think of it, how spent she was feeling after running down only a handful of humans¡­ They had not even been worth the effort; most of them died right there, frail creatures that they were. Only one remained, and even it was likely to perish before the night was over.


    The human shifted a bit, as if sensing that she was thinking about it. If she squinted, Miranda could just make out the lines of the spell that bound it and kept it mindless. She did not know this sort of magic, so the golden tracery told her nothing; but the look of it was more pleasing, at least, than the scraggly, ugly form it contained. There was an impulse of some kind in the creature ¨C a deep, buried restlessness, caged by the influence and the wine Bluebell had poured in the human earlier. It might be fun to take the charm off and play¡­


    There was a fresh scar running down the human¡¯s shoulder where Bluebell¡¯s spear had grazed it, and many smaller scratches further down from when the creature crashed through the bushes. The smell of wine it gave off was powerful; Bluebell had bathed it in wine, making it squirm and whimper when the liquid touched its wounds. Miranda did not think the appearance of the human was much improved by that bath, but then she doubted it was possible at all. With its matted hair and grimy body, striped where the sweat had formed rivulets, the human was no better than a deer or a boar ¨C filthy, smelly, and hopelessly lost. They had tried to catch a deer, too, earlier that same day, but it managed to get away; really it had been shaping up to be a disappointing hunt, until they came across the humans.


    Miranda stared up at the ceiling, where an intricate pattern of flowers and vines swirled around, lighting the room with its brilliance. The waves of heat surrounded her, pushing her up as if she were a leaf in a stream. Perhaps she would dance later, after all; perhaps she would go out and fly ¨C she hadn¡¯t done that in a while. It would be cold outside, rainy perhaps. An interesting change¡­


    The human mumbled something.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯ Miranda asked, suddenly irritated. If the creature was regaining control of its faculties, then it could surely speak up. She used its own tongue to address it, but it didn¡¯t appear in any way grateful for the effort, and it irked her. After all the wondrous things they had shown it, it could at least thank them by showing some courtesy. ¡®What do you want?¡¯


    ¡®Water,¡¯ the creature said, slightly louder.


    There was none, of course. Miranda contemplated letting the human dry out ¨C after it did not even say ¡®please¡¯, she felt slighted ¨C but the others would not appreciate it if she destroyed their captive before time. She did not fear their anger, but they bored her when they grew resentful. Deciding, she thrust Bluebell¡¯s abandoned goblet at the human. He could take another when he returned.


    ¡®Have some wine,¡¯ she said, waving the bottle down to pour.


    The creature¡¯s eyes followed her gestures this time ¨C it was really coming around ¨C but it said nothing, and only gulped the wine before she even finished pouring. Miranda grimaced at the untidiness. Some wine dripped onto the human¡¯s chest, and before Miranda could stop its hand it reached and scratched vigorously.


    She did not need to look at the others to feel the change in the air, the abrupt shift of the mood. Miranda heard the screeches of the instruments faltering, the pipes going shrill then stopping, and knew she had to act fast before the whole night was disrupted. She leaned down to swat the human¡¯s hand away, then hit the wound with a wave of heat. The human shrieked and recoiled, but the magic fried the fresh blood, and she felt the others relax as the danger passed. The music picked up again.


    ¡®Don¡¯t do that,¡¯ Miranda hissed at the human. It lay crumpled on the floor, weeping over its burn. ¡®Your blood is not wanted here. Not in the hill. Bleed outside, if you will, but not here.¡¯


    The human stared up at her, panting from the pain. The stupid look on its face was exasperating.


    ¡®And don¡¯t gape at me,¡¯ Miranda snapped, adding a kick to the creature¡¯s side to make it understand better. It gave her foot a dull stare before raising its eyes again to her face.


    ¡®You would let me go outside?¡¯


    At a different moment, Miranda might have answered with a riddle, to trick the human and have a laugh when it found out; but now that she wished only to rest but had been disturbed, she was not interested. Instead, she said ¨C


    ¡®You will go where we tell you. You will do as you told.¡¯ It blinked, its eyes watery as if it had been staring at the sun. ¡®Don¡¯t look at me, it¡¯s not your place to look!¡¯


    This time, the kick she aimed was harder, and the human hung its head obediently, but just as she was about to recline and return to her musings, it said again ¨C


    ¡®Water.¡¯


    ¡®Stop speaking.¡¯ This impertinence was no fun, not when she could not kill the creature for it. Miranda stood up and gathered her skirts to leave. ¡®There¡¯s only wine. There will only ever be that. Drink this, drink the whole thing.¡¯ She caught a jug that was drifting past and pushed it into its hands, not caring if it stained the metal. Other humans could be set to cleaning it later, when they caught more. ¡®This is all you will have.¡¯


    The human apparently had a short memory, because it looked up at her yet again.


    ¡®Thank you,¡¯ it said, somewhat more clearly now.


    But Miranda had already turned away, picking her way towards the circle.


    The dance made you forget. That was the magic of it and the trap, too ¨C once in, the temptation to remain there forever would pull hard, and no human could withstand it. She was no human, though, and here on her own ground ¨C the ground of her kind ¨C she did not need to fear anything. The abandon of the dance could heal, and now that in her mind anger had replaced joy, she needed just that¡­


    Miranda came closer to the rim where the winds whipped, just tugging at her skirts, and the leaves and the out-of-season flowers whirled past. Behind, the dancers spun; and beyond them roared the fire. Feeling the music enter her blood, Miranda stepped forward ¨C and was inside, dropping, like a stone into a pond, into the closed-off world of the circle.


    Twirling and spinning to the rhythm, she observed the others across the shifting distance ¨C the flying skirts, the whipping braids, the leaves and flowers and sparkling dust that would not settle now, not until morning. She watched the humans, few that remained of previous hunts, drawn into the circle with as much apparent will as the leaves had. Bluebell was dancing with one, spinning it around as it tried to cling to him just to keep its balance. Garbed in a dark, drab dress, this human seemed incongruous in this bright whirlpool; only its eyes, shining like polished gold, fit in. Bluebell caught a flower and put it into the human¡¯s hair, then another, without stopping or missing a beat, but the creature did not notice. He pulled its hair ¨C there was quite a lot of it, brilliant red in the firelight ¨C and when the human yelped, Bluebell pushed it away and out of the circle, hard enough that its back hit the wall. It slid down and lay there for a moment, before scrambling up to its hands and knees and creeping closer to the circle once again.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Humans could not leave the dance of their own volition ¨C had none left, by the time they were brought in ¨C and when expelled, always crawled back in. It was always amusing to watch the longing mix with terror in their faces as they readied themselves to step inside again, even despite all of their senses telling them not to. Miranda watched it move like a hawk, now. It stood up, trembling, reached a hand towards the vortex ¨C whimpered as the wind pulled it ¨C and fell in.


    Miranda swooped onto it with her nails and her copper knife, stabbing and scratching, slicing the skin only to char its edges black; and as the human wept, she felt herself somewhat restored. This toy was not new ¨C this one she could destroy if she wished. Power rose in her, making her skin tingle with excitement. Miranda dimly recalled catching this creature earlier this week, when she and the others had raided a village in the night and had taken at random, snatching humans out of their beds and away, across the fields and the woodland, and into the hill. Nothing could prevent them from doing what they willed. Nothing could stop her.


    Contented now, she stepped out of the dance ¨C and swayed, as the regular pulls of the world took over. Garnet stepped out of the shadows, stretching an arm to steady her, but she evaded his hands with a laugh. He had been waiting like this for a few nights already, and he could wait for a few more. From the reflection of herself she saw in his eyes, she knew there were leaves stuck in her hair.


    ¡®I shall go out,¡¯ she said to Garnet, smiling, seducing ¨C just a little, to keep him interested and make him attend her now. ¡®Fly in the moonlight, fly in the rain ¨C whatever there is. Good night, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡¯


    ¡®Any night with my lady is a good night,¡¯ he said, his voice low. He was playing with her too, Miranda knew, and knew that he could see her knowledge; but that was as it should be. Some said this dance was even older than the circle, older perhaps than the world itself ¨C some claimed the world was born from it, the love and the chase of the sun and moon, or the earth and sky. ¡®Will you permit me to come with you?¡¯


    ¡®If you ask me well,¡¯ she said, but suddenly he was staring past her.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on there?¡¯


    Something in his face frightened her, and she whirled around ¨C but it was only the human, crouched on the ground, shaking and gulping and sticking its tongue out. From across the room, Aurelia was already rushing towards it; Miranda hastened over, too.


    Aurelia was a mender, one skilled in repairing their fragile playthings ¨C human or otherwise. She leaned over the coughing creature, but as her fingers moved across its skin, searching, her face grew confused.


    ¡®What did it eat?¡¯ she asked of Miranda. ¡®What did it drink?¡¯


    ¡®Wine only, of course.¡¯


    Aurelia wrinkled her nose ¨C


    ¡®No, there¡¯s more, I can feel it. It must¡¯ve taken something while nobody was looking.¡¯ She clutched the human¡¯s shoulder, making it cry out as her nails dug in. ¡®What did you steal? What was it?¡¯


    Bluebell and Garnet had come over, too.


    ¡®It must¡¯ve tried to kill itself,¡¯ Garnet said, frowning. ¡®We haven¡¯t had that in a while. Such presumption ¨C¡¯


    ¡®We must punish it,¡¯ Bluebell agreed. The flowers in his hair shone bright like gems. ¡®Make an example of it. A rug, perhaps?¡¯


    ¡®First I need to find a way to keep it from expiring immediately,¡¯ Aurelia said, probing the human¡¯s back, as it kept coughing and hiccupping. ¡®I have to commend all of you ¨C you¡¯ve kept it in good order, so if only I could¡­ What is this? I am feeling something wrong, but I¡¯m not sure¡­¡¯ She pushed and pulled a bit more, but the mystery apparently did not give, and her eyes grew darker with indignation. ¡®Taking what isn¡¯t yours ¨C how dare you! What was it ¨C a plant? Berries? Nightshade, perhaps? What have you done to yourself?¡¯ Exasperated, she hit the creature¡¯s back.


    It gave the largest gulp yet, coughed ¨C and spat out something heavy and slimy.


    Miranda never even made out what it was, before the force hit her and she fell backwards. The fiddles whirred and died, the drums stopped, the music ended; with a terrible clatter bottles and jugs rained to the floor and shattered, spraying wine and shards of pottery, as Miranda tried and failed to scramble out of their way. The beautiful lights of the ceiling faded as if they¡¯d never been, and the air around her filled with cries of shock and fright. The magic was gone, she could feel it ¨C snuffed like a candle, and the absence made her weak, made her entire body tremble and her legs barely able to carry her. With effort, she propped herself up on her elbows ¨C and stared in horror to where the human was standing, its back straight and its eyes somehow focused, but that was not the worst; in its hand she saw ¨C and did not want to see ¨C the thing of nightmares, the evil, the foul ¨C


    This could not be. How did this get in here? None of them could have missed it, not when the mere presence of it suffocated them so. Miranda knew had to get up, had to do something, but without magic her body was too feeble. The air felt thick as treacle, impossible to move in. Miranda could only watch as the human stepped past her, past the others where they lay moaning. It walked with odious ease, as if nothing was wrong ¨C and she knew that for it, nothing was. It held the thing in its hand as if it was a mere stone, or a piece of jewelry. It would never feel the evil of cold iron. It could never understand the nature of what it brought here.


    Miranda had been on hunts, had been in human villages where iron was everywhere, but under an open sky it was different, far easier to filter. They would dance around the locks and the bars, dodge the pitchforks and laugh¡­ But here, trapped inside the hill, the abhorrent influence of it magnified and reflected back on itself, until it became impossible to fight.


    Now Miranda could not even see where the human had gone. Pushing against the still air, forcing her limbs to withstand the strain, she at last managed to raise herself into a crouch and turn to look for the creature ¨C just in time to see it raise the iron and put it to the wall.


    There was no need to push, or look for a keyhole. The touch of iron would break any spell. Miranda sensed it moments before it came ¨C the great shudder from the depths of the earth, the gust of wind to extinguish all flame. Then, as the lights died, came a great emptiness, and she knew then that the door was no more. The hill had been opened.


    The influx of sound reached her as if from afar, but she knew what it meant. The humans had come in ¨C dared come inside the hill, unwanted, uninvited, and armored with iron. She knew what their purpose would be. Humans were always envious of her kind, had always sought to destroy what they could not understand. Pain washed over her, drowning despair and determination alike, dulling her thoughts. These were hateful creatures, ignorant and ungrateful, and she knew she had to fight them ¨C to force them out of her hill, her home; but even thinking of it took too much effort.


    Miranda could not be sure for how long she¡¯d lain there, curled on the floor. The night remained black and full of screaming, the abhorrent metal danced around, and nothing but faint starlight shone in. She saw it glint off the edges and pikes, in the countless eyes.


    She had not realized how many humans there were. Dozens ¨C perhaps even a hundred ¨C infested the hill like lice, each with some iron in its hands. This had been planned, she could tell. Limited though human minds were, their capabilities had been enough to devise a trap.


    The scent of blood filled the air ¨C fair blood, green blood, that of her own kind. There was nothing she could save here, but there was still a chance of escape. If only she could stand, could move at all ¨C


    Glimpses of fire showed in the distance, and she reached out to it, drinking it in eagerly. Half of the torches were extinguished by this, and some of the humans yelled in protest, but Miranda ignored it; they could not have known it was her doing. With this influx of strength, she at last managed to get up.


    Her body hurt where falling bottles hit it, but her vision steadied, and she could see now that most humans were congregated further away from her, where the circle had been. Around her, there were only shadows on the floor ¨C her own people, lying there crumpled, unmoving ¨C


    Headless. A chill ran down her spine, but Miranda moved on, propping herself on what little she could wrench out of the fires. Garnet¡¯s head lay there, next to what looked like Aurelia¡¯s body; and further onwards, she saw more, but in such a state that her mind shut down any attempts at recognition. Slashed and stabbed, poked and sliced they had been, in what looked like expressions of chaotic rage; and at the end they had all lost their heads to iron.


    Was she the last one left? As Miranda stretched her thoughts outward, she could only feel death. Had the humans just missed her, curled on the ground as she was ¨C had they mistaken her for an already headless corpse? Now that she had stood up they would notice her soon enough, even in near-darkness. She would have to fight her way out if she wanted to escape, to warn the others and save what could still be saved.


    Yet there was not much magic to be had from those feeble fires; what little she had not taken yet would run out soon enough. Exhaustion filled Miranda¡¯s bones, swaddling her in numb sleepiness. When the fires ran out, she would be faced with iron, and perish with the rest. It no longer seemed like such an abysmal thought; death was an escape, too. If only it did not have to be iron¡­


    Someone gave a shout, and she knew they spotted her. Faces moved before her, and she squinted at them. In the uncertain firelight, they seemed to waver, but she had recognized one ¨C the human that had caused it all, the one she¡¯d given wine to, showed magic to¡­ and this was how it chose to repay them. Its eyes were still golden, she saw now; but with all spells broken, that could not be, unless¡­ Had they always been so ¨C was it how her kind was tricked? Was it the fading daylight that hid its eye color from them, made them not see it wasn¡¯t truly controlled by the spell? The iron caught inside must have rendered it impotent. If not for his flesh shielding the hateful metal, they would have known; if not for his yellow eyes¡­


    Naked and dirty, the creature seemed a pitiful thing to her, but the other humans were looking at it in awe. It stood upright, holding a sword in both hands. Miranda squinted at the blade; the stains appeared black in this light, but she knew they had to be green.


    ¡®Look at me,¡¯ the human said, and its voice lashed. Behind it, its kin was watching. ¡®Shall we make an example of you? Shall we make you into a rug, fairy?¡¯


    Miranda tried to draw herself up, to look down on them all, but even with the fires feeding her she could do no more than stare. When she spoke, her voice rustled ¨C


    ¡®You have done enough damage here. I care not what you do to me now.¡¯


    The human laughed ¨C a mirthless sound, cold as the iron in its hands.


    ¡®How odd that you would speak of damage ¨C you, who have hunted us, enslaved us, murdered us, you who used us for your cruel sport. This all ends tonight. Do you understand?¡¯


    The lights were wavering. Miranda could feel the pressure of all the iron lapping at her control, waiting to consume her once she could no longer keep it at bay.


    ¡®It was a fair exchange,¡¯ she muttered. There were too many humans, and too much iron. What did they want? She could tell them nothing new. ¡®We took you, we ¨C we showed you the world, a glimpse of magic ¨C don¡¯t you love magic? Don¡¯t you want it, more than anything? It was only fair. We gave you that, and we took¡­ in exchange. You agreed to it all ¨C you always do. You have no right¡­ to complain.¡¯


    The sword flashed in the light.


    Miranda knew she must¡¯ve screamed, because her throat was sore; must¡¯ve fallen, because she found herself on the ground again. She could recall none of it. Her shoulder hurt as if burned, and she could taste blood on her tongue. It could have been no more than a slap with the flat of the sword, but because it was iron, she could not take even that little. Sight and hearing came back only reluctantly. The torches had grown brighter.


    ¡®¡­our children,¡¯ the human was going on. He was wiping the blade now, the dirty rag making unpleasant sounds. ¡®Our lives. You have stolen, tortured, murdered ¨C and now you dare claim that it was fair?¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t touched your children,¡¯ Miranda said wearily. ¡®I have never even seen them. Why must you make up these ¨C¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t have to be mine,¡¯ the human interrupted. ¡®Someone else¡¯s, somewhere else, at another time. It does not matter. This is not about my own loss ¨C¡¯


    ¡®Then why?¡¯ Miranda would¡¯ve screamed if she could, but there was no hope of that now. The energy of the flames had become more slippery, and drawing on it was took more effort now. ¡®You are the one who caused all this. You brought the rest of it here.¡¯


    ¡®I was doing the will of others as well as my own. Today¡¯s feat is much greater than you or me, fairy.¡¯ His voice grew stronger, more commanding; for the first time, she could see why the other humans looked at him as they did. ¡®Your kind will leave our land ¨C our world, the whole of it. We will make certain of it, one way or another. We will prevail. Today is only the beginning.¡¯


    Miranda watched the glimmers of the fire play on the sword. Starlight reached here as well, where some of the ceiling had caved in, but the torches made it nearly invisible even to her superior eyesight. There was beauty even in the glare of iron, intolerable though it was. Her neck still hurt from its searing touch. What would it be like to die from it? She was shivering, and could not stop it.


    ¡®We will never leave,¡¯ she said quietly, watching the human give the sword one last swipe. He considered the edge, then took out a sharpening stone. ¡®There are too many of us. We are everywhere in this land ¨C our land, not yours. We have always been, and shall always continue. We will return. We always do.¡¯


    The human gave the sword a few swipes, checked the edge, then smiled at her.


    ¡®No such thing as always, fairy,¡¯ he said. ¡®Everything has to end someday.¡¯


    The blade rose and plunged, and then Miranda never even had time to scream.

 2. (part 1/2)

    The lights flickered overhead ¡ª a pulse that was barely noticeable, yet still grated. Gwen was looking down as she walked, to see less of it. The polished black of her shoes reflected in the off-white of the floor just as polished, and the rhythmic movement of one against the other calmed her mind a little.


    Considering the circumstances, it had been a good enough day. She¡¯d managed a decent amount of lab work, and now all the only task left was to set up the machines for the night before leaving. She should be glad, really ¡ª if only she could still remember how that was done.


    Gwenllian was born long before the invasion, and had grown up in the soft, safe world that had been. Her memories of that time used to be strong, at first. But now, years into this changed reality, she could barely recall what it had all felt like ¡ª to walk outside without fear, to look up at the sun, to just stand by a tree and let the warm currents of air wash over¡­ What it had been like to not have them everywhere, when you could step outside and not see every roof, every lamp post, every fence covered in their hated forms.


    It seemed so unbelievable now that as a child she had actually liked birds.


    The doors to the labs were all the same with the numbers taken off, and when she¡¯d just started here it had been a challenge to memorize which was which; but Gwen learned soon enough, and by now could count them off without thinking. Stopping by her own door, she pressed her palm to the lock and waited as the machine processed it. A piercing light darted at eye level, making her flinch. This was a new precaution, and had reportedly cost a great deal, but no expense was to be spared when it came to vigilance ¡ª especially not here where such important work was being done. Gwen wished she could install something like this at home, too, but she had no hope of earning enough to afford it any time soon.


    Not that they preyed too much on homes. In the beginning there had been a few incidents, but by now they must¡¯ve figured out that was not where the threat came from. Yet it would only be a matter of time, Gwen was sure, before they arrived at the concept of blackmail; and then children would, of course, make the best hostages.


    Gwen and Santiago took to driving Megan everywhere, and at night they would now all sleep in the same room, in the large bed they¡¯d placed away from the window. The window was boarded up, of course, but they took no risks they could help. The school had its own security measures, too: windows also boarded, no excursions, no outdoor classes, and the number of guards increased threefold. Yet nothing was happening, and Gwen knew well that in absence of incidents control could lapse. And even if it didn¡¯t, still any defense could be breached with enough cunning ¡ª the exact quality they had always been known for.


    At last with a series of clicks and screeches the door slid open and Gwen entered, pulling it shut immediately after. She turned on the lights and watched as they settled in to flicker just like the ones out in the corridor. Presumably the entire building was afflicted.


    The uncertain lights were the first indication that one of them had crept into the underground communications to force a breakdown. Right now, Gwen knew, the monitoring system would be searching for the intruder, but it was impossible to know if they would catch it in time. With the ever-increasing demand, the city services were getting sluggish. The plan had been that everyone would need to hold on for just a little while until a solution was found, and then all would go back to normal. The attacks were still rare enough that they could be ignored for the sake of the big picture, could be seen as a necessary sacrifice. The ¡®little while¡¯ extended to years, but for now things still held; and after all those years, all the searching, the answer had to be near.


    Eliminating them was not hard on its own, but the trick was to do just that and no more. This was the task the government had set for people like Gwen, back in the beginning: to find a way to kill them, without killing anything else. The balance of life on Earth was too precarious after centuries of abuse, the environment not entirely healed; it was unacceptable to release a killing agent into it without being sure it would do what it was meant to, and only that. In theory, that should¡¯ve been entirely possible ¡ª easy, even. They had all thought so, in the beginning.


    To Gwen, the exuberance of those early days seemed silly in hindsight. At first, the talk had only been of who¡¯d get it first ¡ª who would be the one to find the answer, be the savior of humankind and receive the glory and fame far beyond what could usually be expected in their profession. But as time went on and nothing happened, the enthusiasm faded; conversations changed, then died altogether, and where once the people had been looking for personal gain, now they were searching for the answer itself. Yet so far, nothing worked. There had been many times when it seemed they were almost there ¡ª when they created something or other that almost fulfilled the requirements; but each time, it failed the final, most rigorous tests, and they had to start again.


    It couldn¡¯t be long now before the public realized the science was failing them. The discontent was already there ¡ª little for now, but it would get worse. There were already rumblings that this had been the wrong choice, the wrong path, that there had to be a better way to cope with the invasion than to wait idly for the researchers to finally deliver what they had been promising. The researchers themselves were grumbling in turn, too ¡ª complaining about the standards being too high, the paperwork too much, the workload impossible. Gwen could feel the tension in the air, like a dam or a storm about to break. It would soon enough if the answer wasn¡¯t found.


    Gwen had been a rule-follower all her life, but no longer. She was not going to wait for the storm to come; she had chosen to do something about it. So far, nobody had found out ¡ª so far, she still had a chance.


    The shimmering made her eyes hurt. Gwen gave up on the lights and turned them off, allowing the room to fall into semi-darkness. On a summer evening like this even a clouded sky provided a lot of light, but through the thick meshing on her window not much of it found its way in. Still, what little light did get through had a faint golden sheen, and she knew that beyond the clouds the sun was close to setting. She¡¯d need to hurry if she were to get home before nightfall. In the dark, you could not see them come.


    Gwen turned the machines on one by one, and the room gradually filled with noise. Just as she came to the last one, her phone rang.


    ¡®Santiago,¡¯ she said, putting him on speaker and laying the phone aside. The connection was clear, noiseless. ¡®Home already?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ he said. ¡®We had to rush, they were all over the school. But no attacks, not that I¡¯ve heard of at least. Megan¡¯s doing homework.¡¯


    ¡®Trying to,¡¯ Megan called from a distance. She sounded normal, and Gwen relaxed a little.


    It felt incongruous that such an ordinary thing as homework could still exist in their disturbed world. Then again, many things struck Gwen this way now. There were still shops, and libraries, and gyms; people still worked and went around on their business, keeping up the fa?ade of normality because such was their way of life now ¡ª it was the expected behavior, the proper thing to do, and even if they had started to complain about it they were still doing it, at least for now. There was nothing normal, to Gwen¡¯s view, in this sneaking about, in the way they all had to hide themselves away in their own city, avoiding the open streets, staying in at night. But if it helped preserve at least a semblance of order, it was better than nothing.


    ¡®You coming soon?¡¯ Santiago asked. ¡®It¡¯s near nightfall.¡¯


    He had no knowledge of what Gwen planned; she made sure of that. Her husband would need plausible deniability if things went wrong for her ¡ª not that she expected them to, with how careful she¡¯d been, but it was best to be prepared. He might¡¯ve guessed the truth, of course, or something close to it ¡ª he had seen her glued to her computer in the evenings, staying up well into the night. But when he asked she evaded, and soon enough he let her be. If questioned he¡¯d have no need to lie, and Gwen did her best to keep it that way.


    ¡®Almost done,¡¯ she said. ¡®I just need to get this started for the night, and then¡­ Just a minute.¡¯


    Silent, he waited while she worked. The indicators began to pulse as she started the processes, lighting up one by one ¡ª all except the one she¡¯d disabled, which if working would have alerted any of her colleagues who happened to enter that a connection was open. It had been surprisingly easy, really. She¡¯d volunteered to install security updates, and used that chance to link her own computer to the machine at work. Now any results that the machine produced were dumped into her computer, allowing her to go on working after hours. Gwen had been praised recently on getting so much done; she knew her coordinators wouldn¡¯t have been as laudatory if they looked into exactly how she¡¯d managed.


    It seemed harmless enough on the surface, but it was a breach of security, and Gwen knew that her punishment would be severe if she were caught. The longer she went on like this, the greater risk she ran, but if she succeeded¡­ That was what she¡¯d done it for ¡ª that was the whole point. If she found what they were all looking for thanks to this, the risk would be worth it. Everything would fall into place: they would be gone, life would revert to the way it had been, and her crime would be forgiven because of her service to society. If only she could find it¡­


    Gwen finished setting up and leaned into the machine for the security check. As she fitted her forearm into the scanner and positioned her eyes before the panel, Santiago said ¡ª


    ¡®What is that sound?¡¯


    ¡®New upgrade.¡¯ The machine began its whirring and stuttering, and Gwen felt her arm being gently probed. ¡®We¡¯ve had another increase.¡¯


    ¡®Because of Far Cove?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    Just the name alone made the air seem a little colder. What happened at the Far Cove facility was not surprising, not really ¡ª of course they would figure out the concept of torture, that was only to be expected. They seemed to walk the same path Gwen¡¯s own kind had, long ago ¡ª repeating the same mistakes, committing the same atrocities; but Gwen could feel no affinity with them, not when she¡¯d learned the details of what happened at Far Cove. Some things were unforgivable.


    The incident was mostly hushed up, but a little of it did trickle down to the public, only making people more alarmed. She never told Megan or Santiago of any details, yet they still knew enough to get nightmares, and Gwen avoided those herself only by working late and sleeping little. She abused caffeine and sleeping pills, medicating her body into compliance. If she worked hard enough, surely it would eventually pay off. The answer had to be out there. Perhaps it was something obvious, something they were all missing because it was too simple.


    Sometimes, to try and force herself to continue, Gwen would imagine what it would be like when it finally happened. She pictured them dropping one by one, their black bodies on the ground with their feet up like dead cockroaches, seeming suddenly so small. When at last it happened, they would be helpless ¡ª betrayed by the very air that had been their greatest ally, powerless in the grip of the poison. They would learn the very last lesson they¡¯d ever know, and then it would be over.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The scanner was moving over her arm sluggishly, reading the pattern of her veins, listening to her pulse. It would know if she were being forced; but while it would shut down in that case, it would not help her any. What happened to Far Cove could happen anywhere else, and Gwen was not sure she¡¯d be strong enough to keep silent, like the people there had. The answer had to be found soon, before it was too late. The words beat in her mind like trapped pigeons, as she glared at the scanner, willing it too hurry, knowing it could not.


    At last it made a happy beep, and Gwen pulled her arm out. The queue slid into work, and she straightened, rubbing her back.


    ¡®Now I¡¯m leaving,¡¯ she announced, picking up her phone. ¡®Let¡¯s hope that maybe this time¡­¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t sound hopeful.¡¯


    ¡®Well, because it¡¯s never this time.¡¯ She shrugged, then remembered he couldn¡¯t see. ¡®Still, we must hope. Hope and work. Eventually, it will have to¡­¡¯


    ¡®More work? Gwen, you¡¯re hardly sleeping as it is.¡¯


    Gwen ignored that, saying instead ¡ª


    ¡®Do you need anything on the way?¡¯ She swapped the lab coat for the cardigan, not bothering with the buttons, then pulled the bag over her shoulder. The computer bumped heavily against her thigh.


    ¡®No, we still have some of that chicken left. I¡¯ll make soup.¡¯


    Gwen stepped out and shut the door, then had to wait as the lock processed her fingerprints and irises yet again.


    ¡®If there¡¯s any milk, I might ¡ª¡¯


    A deafening wail pierced the air, making her flinch and drop the phone.


    Gwen hadn¡¯t known how much louder the alarm sounded in the corridors. Instinct pushed her to cover her ears against the stabbing, nerve-tugging shriek, but she had to finish the scan if she didn¡¯t want to trigger another alarm, now on her own door. She forced herself to stand still, as the sound drilled into her scull.


    The wail ended just as the lights of the lock died.


    ¡®¡ª was that?¡¯ Santiago was saying as she bent to pick up the phone. Gwen blinked furiously to shake off the afterimages.


    ¡®Probably ¡ª¡¯


    The announcement drowned her attempt at an answer.


    ¡®Evacuation,¡¯ a deep artificial voice stated. ¡®Three minutes to lockdown.¡¯


    ¡®Heard that?¡¯ Gwen said towards the phone.


    ¡®A drill?¡¯


    ¡®Guess so. I¡¯ve got to go.¡¯


    ¡®Good luck.¡¯


    As Gwen¡¯s vision cleared, she saw the flicker of the lights had gotten worse. Forcing an evacuation over that did seem a bit excessive ¡ª attacks on communications were nothing special by now, and most of the time resulted in nothing but a fried black-feathered corpse. Still, Gwen knew the facility¡¯s control center believed a good drill could never go amiss. She tried to convince herself it was no more than that.


    All around her, the doors were swinging open, emitting people ¡ª some in lab coats, others trying to change on the way.


    ¡®Just started,¡¯ the woman from the room opposite complained, when their eyes met. Gwen usually greeted her, but they never exchanged names. Closer friendships were not usually formed here, because of the nature of their work. ¡®Night shift. Or was, I guess. Could you please hold my coffee?¡¯


    Gwen took the cup, and the two of them joined the current, walking rapidly while the woman pulled on a jumper and stuffed her lab coat into her bag.


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ she said to Gwen, taking the coffee back. ¡®Chilly evening. Perfect time for a drill.¡¯ Her sarcasm was casual, only half-irritated.


    ¡®It may not be a drill,¡¯ Gwen said, for fairness¡¯ sake.


    ¡®Don¡¯t,¡¯ someone else muttered from her other side ¡ª another colleague that, to Gwen, was familiar but nameless. ¡®I don¡¯t even want to think about that.¡¯


    But Gwen had to wonder how many of them were doing just that ¡ª as they went to the elevators and past them, to the stairs and down, how many of them were asking the same question.


    It had always been only a drill before. Sometime that luck had to run out. At Far Cove they¡¯d thought it just a drill at first, too.


    At first glance everyone around her looked normal, but it didn¡¯t take much effort to see past that. Gwen caught the low rumble of voices, saw the widened eyes and trembling hands, and knew that they all were aware of it just as she was ¡ª of what they could do, and what that could lead to. The fear of pain and death was part of it, but only the surface; beyond it was a worse prospect still. In Far Cove, one of the employees had managed to wipe the system clean just moments before they got to it; she had been murdered for it, in a way so horrific Gwen refused to consider it, but she had saved the project. Such a chance might not come a second time. With all the security checks in place a breach was highly improbable, but with them you learned to expect just that. And if they got in¡­


    They had to know what was being prepared against them ¡ª their attacks made no sense otherwise. But they knew no specifics of it, and as long as that remained true they¡¯d find it hard to escape their eventual fate. However, once they did know¡­ Nobody knew if they could read; nobody knew if they had any understanding of chemistry. Them knowing would be a variable too great to control. Everything would have to be reconsidered, redrafted, redone ¡ª and there was no time.


    If they found out, they would probably win. And if they won, they would not tolerate humanity to remain. For all that they refused all attempts at communication, that they¡¯d made clear enough.


    The lights were still flickering. Gwen tried not to think, to concentrate on walking. Three minutes should be enough ¡ª she¡¯d done it before. You had to walk fast, but if you did you could make it.


    The walls of the stairwell were all windows on two sides ¡ª boarded shut now, of course, they resembled aquariums, with the boards showing through the dimness like large flat pieces of seaweed. The sound of steps reflected off the walls, multiplying into confusion. Gwen followed down with the others ¡ª it was only a few floors, only a handful of seconds, yet they stretched on, and increasingly she felt trapped here with all those people, doomed to walk in circles forever¡­


    On the last step her foot slipped, and the spell broke. Someone caught her arm as she fell and pulled her back up.


    ¡®Thanks¡­¡¯ she tried to say, but whoever it was had already moved on.


    The check-out gates were pinging incessantly as people streamed through them. Gwen let the crowd carry her, and in a few moments went through the gate and into the parking lot.


    ¡®Seventy-five seconds to lockdown,¡¯ the voice was saying. All around Gwen car doors were slamming, and one by one the engines purred awake. Frantically she dashed to her own car.


    Inside, the wheel glimmered faintly in the semi-darkness. Gwen shoved her hand at the middle of it and, when it lit up and clasped her palm, at last relaxed a little. The car, at least, did not scan her eyes.


    The initialization took thirty seconds; the engine needed five more, which meant Gwen would then have about half a minute left to make her turn and reach the exit. Many around her were already wheeling out ¡ª those who worked on the lower floors and had gotten down first ¡ª but that was, if anything, a good thing, because leaving among the last made it easier to maneuver through the place¡­


    Something hit the side of her car, making her jump in fright.


    ¡®Gwen!¡¯


    Ming was looking at her. With her one hand trapped by the wheel, Gwen used the other to wind down the window.


    ¡®Give me a ride?¡¯ he breathed out. ¡®Mine broke down.¡¯


    Gwen pushed the back door open, and he slid inside, looking relieved.


    ¡®Thanks,¡¯ he said, still panting. ¡®I tried to make it work, but the lockdown¡­ I had to run. I can¡¯t stay here for the night, I have to be¡­¡¯


    ¡®I get it.¡¯


    The authorization pinged complete, and Gwen started the engine.


    ¡®It must be from yesterday¡¯s,¡¯ he went on. ¡®Did I tell you?¡¯


    ¡®We haven¡¯t seen each other, so I guess not.¡¯


    ¡®Right.¡¯ His stare was a little unfocused. The engine roared to life, and Gwen began edging out of her space, careful not to graze the pillar. ¡®I¡¯m confused after work, I was right in the middle of¡­ Anyway. They came after me yesterday, hard, I¡¯m not sure what they¡­ I had the car checked, but I think we were so distracted by the state the tires were in that we missed¡­ I don¡¯t know, something.¡¯ He looked over his shoulder to where his car presumably was. ¡®Please don¡¯t explode.¡¯


    ¡®You should call them,¡¯ Gwen said, meaning the control office of the facility. ¡®Let them know they may have a problem here. They¡¯ll check for you.¡¯


    ¡®Right,¡¯ he said, still looking back.


    Gwen and Ming had gone to the same school, but he was two years below her, and she hadn¡¯t even known he existed until they were assigned to the same team at a chemistry competition. She had always felt the age gap, small though it was, and her instinct had always been to take care of him. She wondered sometimes how aware Ming himself was of it ¡ª whether he kept coming to her for help out of affection or calculation. Possibly it was both; regardless, she was not about to leave him behind. Gwen guessed they had meant only to scare Ming ¡ª he wouldn¡¯t have been able to get away otherwise ¡ª but they had obviously succeeded, and she thought company would do good for him.


    At last Gwen found her way to the exit lane, and sped out to the sound of ¡®Twenty-five seconds to lockdown¡¯. Ming reached over her to wind up her window, just as they were nearing the doorway. The heavy metal door had already begun its descent, the chains clanging as they unraveled. Outside, the yard seemed empty ¡ª Gwen couldn¡¯t make out anything suspicious other than a few dots in the sky, and for a moment she hoped ¡ª


    Then they were out the door and in the sudden sunlight, and there was someone running across her path.


    Gwen swerved before she could think, and only then, in the rearview mirror, saw the tell-tale chameleon uniform ¡ª the heavy helmet ¡ª the soldier, aiming the net high and throwing, oblivious of the cars that passed him by close enough to touch. Then, like a trick picture that would only appear if you made your eyes see double, more soldiers showed up against the walls and ground ¡ª near-invisible in their uniforms that copied the colors of the sand and asphalt, and the grayish blocks the facility was made of. Gwen tried to keep to the exit lane, but it was impossible; she had to slow down to find her way in the mess of cars and people, and with her attention on it she didn¡¯t immediately realize what the crowd meant.


    The understanding hit about half-way. The low-hanging sun shone yellow, making everything seem warmer than it was, but Gwen suddenly broke into cold sweat. There was nothing drill-like about this. She could not see the sky directly overhead, and did not want to once she realized what had to be there. In the backseat Ming was silent, biting his lip so hard it had started to bleed. The car inched onwards, and Gwen¡¯s hands felt slippery on the wheel. The soldiers ignored the ground, watching the sky only, moving where their job carried them without any regard for the vehicles. Civilians were expected to get out of the way on their own.


    With a thud, something black hit Gwen¡¯s windshield, making her yelp. Before she could make it out it slid down, and in a moment she felt it go under the wheel and crunch there with a wet, sickening sound.


    Petrified, Gwen watched the outer gate move closer, their progress in the line slow as molasses but steady enough. She saw other cars get there and, once out, speed up and away, scuttling into the streets like ants into an anthill. The streets weren¡¯t actually safe ¡ª nothing was safe that had no roof ¡ª but it was better than this. Anything had to be better than this, and Far Cove¡­


    The second they were out of the gate, she floored it, and did not look back.


    She flew through the deserted streets without any direction, intent strictly on getting away. Only when she saw the glimpse of the river to her side and realized how far she¡¯d driven, she finally started to slow down, then at last stopped.


    The sun had set, and the streets looked hazy in the pale blue of early dusk. A thin striped cat sat on the pavement, watching Gwen¡¯s car. They ate cats sometimes, but not often enough to wipe out the strays. The air in the car suddenly felt stifling, and Gwen reached to wind down a window. Her hand was shaking so hard that at first she missed the button.


    Ming met her eyes in the rearview mirror.


    For a while they sat there in silence. His gaze shifted to her hands, and she clasped them together to keep the tremor down. At last, he said ¡ª


    ¡®Gwen, I think I should take over.¡¯


    Wordlessly she crawled over to the backseat, giving him the front spot. Along with the rest of friends and family Ming was authorized to drive the car, and Gwen only half-listened as he logged himself in. She huddled in the back with her computer to her chest, and heard it ping softly in her embrace. The results from the lab must¡¯ve come in ¡ª it was about time. But with Ming there, Gwen could not risk checking them. It would have to wait until later.


    Ming circled away from the river and drove back, slow at first but then gathering speed again. The day was fading, but out of habit he did not turn on the headlights.


    The buildings around gradually lost in height as they moved further away from the bank and into a residential area. From her place Gwen could see more and more roofs ¡ª pale steel, dim, empty. They were apparently not here ¡ª not on the roofs or the fences, not even in the treetops as far as Gwen could see when she leaned down to look upwards. It was tempting to think they had all converged on the facility and perished there, but she didn¡¯t believe it. More likely, they were congregated temporarily elsewhere for their own, unfathomable reasons.

 2. (part 2/2)

    At Ming¡¯s house he stopped at the foot of the driveway. The windows were shuttered, but from underneath the panels a hair-thin line of light showed. Ming opened the door to get out, then closed it again.


    ¡®Thanks for taking me,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Thanks for taking over. You should call them about your car.¡¯ Gwen only now remembered it.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ He hesitated a little. ¡®Gwen. Are you all right?¡¯


    She felt as if the computer in her lap burned bright, like a fiery beacon for all the world to see. Ming could not possibly know. She tried to make her voice light ¡ª


    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®Can you drive home? Or would you rather I took you?¡¯


    A large bird alighted on the mailbox, making them both start. Gwen squinted, trying to make out its colors in the twilight.


    ¡®It¡¯s only a magpie,¡¯ Ming said. It looked at the car, cocking its head, then took off as randomly as it came.


    ¡®I can drive,¡¯ Gwen said. ¡®I¡¯m not that tired.¡¯


    ¡®You were frightened.¡¯


    ¡®And you weren¡¯t?¡¯ She tried to touch his lip and he leaned away, but at least it made him smile.


    ¡®I didn¡¯t have to drive through it all. And there was a lot.¡¯


    ¡®I wonder what happened there.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯ll probably know in the morning.¡¯


    Ming looked at the house.


    ¡®Are you sure?¡¯ he tried again, but Gwen cut him off ¡ª


    ¡®Yes!¡¯


    ¡®I should go then.¡¯


    She watched his back as he went up the drive. In a moment, he was admitted inside, and the door closed, leaving Gwen in darkness.


    Somewhere up in the trees the magpie gave a loud, warning shriek, and Gwen crawled over to the front again. Within the car she knew that she was relatively safe, but the habit of keeping indoors after dark was too deeply ingrained by now. Taking the wheel again, she hurried towards home.


    The street lights came on as she was turning out of Ming¡¯s driveway, but they were too dim to be much help. Gwen was trying hard to focus her eyes on the empty road, looking for holes and bumps, when her phone rang.


    ¡®I¡¯m all right,¡¯ she said before Santiago could begin. ¡®Going home from Ming¡¯s.¡¯


    ¡®Your facility¡¯s in the news.¡¯


    That was fast, and Gwen couldn¡¯t help the foreboding.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s a fire there.¡¯


    The car shuddered as it went over a fault in the asphalt that Gwen missed.


    ¡®What fire?¡¯ she asked feebly. ¡®Fire why?¡¯


    ¡®Well, they¡¯re not saying that, I guess it¡¯s classified. They¡¯re only showing the fire. The whole building¡¯s burning, they¡¯ve evacuated the neighboring ones, but so far it¡¯s not spreading.¡¯


    ¡®It won¡¯t,¡¯ Gwen said automatically. ¡®Too far.¡¯ But her mind had already run away with the news.


    Fire! They must¡¯ve got in, if the building was set alight. She didn¡¯t want to imagine it yet couldn¡¯t help it, and the flames rose before her eyes ¡ª licking the walls, rushing across the ceiling, reducing machines to heaps of charred plastic, filling the place with a terrible, lung-eating smell. The walls themselves would remain, she knew, and after a while the building could be restored. But the damage to the data was irreparable. Her body ached all over as it dawned on her in full ¡ª how much time and effort was now wasted, all their research to be painstakingly recreated, all for nothing but an intrusion, all because they¡­


    Her thoughts stopped in their tracks. It was not all lost after all; she had it in her computer, stored safely if illegally ¡ª not all of it, just the portion she¡¯d had access to, but it was something ¡ª it could be of great use.


    But that meant she had to tell.


    ¡®I¡¯m going home,¡¯ she said to Santiago. ¡®We¡¯ll talk when I¡¯m there.¡¯


    ¡®Sure.¡¯ He did not yet know what she meant by talking. ¡®I¡¯ll keep your chicken warm.¡¯


    ¡®Be there soon,¡¯ Gwen said for a goodbye.


    All their hard work went up in flames. It was better than letting them have it, and it was only one facility, but still it was a loss ¡ª and especially so soon after Far Cove, where much was lost, too. If Gwen¡¯s data could remedy even a part of it, it was her duty to give it over, regardless of the consequences for herself; yet she couldn¡¯t close her eyes to those consequences, and as she drove on her mind gradually filled with terror.


    It would be different if she could produce the answer, the solution, but she could not. She would not be the savior who could be forgiven some roguishness; she would be suspected of collusion if not worse, because that was always the suspicion where information was involved. In fairness, there was a decent chance she could prove her innocence ¡ª being actually innocent would help with that ¡ª but there was the risk, the risk of¡­


    Gwen¡¯s thoughts were getting muddled. The weariness she¡¯d denied to Ming was catching up with her finally, pushing at her and pulling her downwards like the tide. At home, there would be coffee; then, propped up by it, she could think. For the time being she gave up on that, and just let the car carry her.


    The buildings became sparser as she neared the edge of Ming¡¯s neighborhood. A lot of these, she knew from before, were abandoned, dilapidated; some owners must¡¯ve moved to a more densely populated place, for safety, others presumably died. In the dark, the houses looked all black, indistinguishable from the trees and only barely showing against the deep gray of the sky. The street lamps grew fewer before disappearing altogether, and Gwen was forced to turn on the headlights. Soon enough, she left the city behind and entered the fields.


    Here the road was much better, if also unlit. During the day, it had to carry the heavy machinery that worked the crops; Gwen¡¯s tiny vehicle was nothing in comparison. She sped up in the direction of the distant hill beyond which her own neighborhood lay.


    Apart from the small stretch of the asphalt that the headlights hit, Gwen could see very little. The fields stretched into the distance, black and unknowable. In daytime she would¡¯ve been able to see where they ended ¡ª would¡¯ve seen the city where it hugged this piece of land like a horseshoe, and the forest where it closed the remaining gap. The forest had been a popular holiday destination before the invasion, but by now it had grown dense and impassable, left alone for years because they had taken over it. They crept into the fields often, too ¡ª Gwen had seen them before, during the day, walking through the wheat, stealing the grain as if they had the right. The workers were too afraid to chase them off.


    Now she could see no-one there, human or otherwise. Occasionally Gwen passed a building, but, lightless as they were they seemed ghostly, rising out of the night like some skeletal ships on the ocean floor. Otherwise the darkness was absolute, and Gwen¡¯s imagination populated it with lurking, winged shadows, making her flinch every time she heard a random piece of gravel hit the bottom of her car. Ahead, the sky was a little paler where the street lights reflected off the clouds; Gwen pushed determinedly towards that, feeling the car glide effortlessly along the good road, feeling sleep inching towards her, trying to take over.


    It was not that late; she was not that tired. Gwen told that to herself over and over, but the effect was limited. She¡¯d almost snoozed when something startled her awake, and it took some blinking and staring at the road before she cleared her head enough to recall it.


    There was a hit. Something had bumped against her door, something too large and soft to be gravel. Gwen checked each mirror in turn, but could see nothing. The road began its slow ascent uphill; soon enough she would be out of this place and back in the city streets, where perhaps it might be easier to remember what was real.


    Gwen had had auditory hallucinations before. Illusions, her doctor had called them: when she was exhausted and she¡¯d hear music in the sound of rushing water, or birds chirping that weren¡¯t really there ¡ª that was apparently normal, she¡¯d been told, just the way some people¡¯s brains worked when worn-out. She certainly felt worn-out now. This would not do.


    She reached behind herself with one hand and pulled the computer out of the bag. She could turn on the news, find out what they were saying about the fire; hearing a human voice would surely help. Holding the thing on her lap was not the best driving position, but here on an empty road it didn¡¯t matter much. She waited for the keyboard to recognize her, then checked the data, stored safely behind her wall of pass codes, and turned to the network.


    Nobody knew for sure how much they understood of any human language. Just in case, the news had to be circumspect, careful not to mention anything they could use and to minimize any hurt they caused. Still, after all those years Gwen had learned to read between the lines, and if¡­


    Another hit came from the other side. On instinct she shut the lid, making the computer go quiet. That couldn¡¯t possibly have been a hallucination, it was too clear ¡ª


    Something landed heavily in front of her face, claws scratching metal, and before she could see it clearly Gwen redlined again.


    The wind pushed the thing off, but it would not be alone ¡ª they never were, not near humans. Gwen turned on the rear lights ¡ª and felt cold trickle down her spine.


    They were after her, swarming like giant black bees, silent in their determination. Whether they found out somehow what she had, or latched onto her for their own reasons, she had to get away. But you could never get away if they chose you, if they wanted you dead ¡ª


    No use to think about that. There had to be something she could do. The car shot up the hill, laboring as the incline got steeper.


    The underground was an option. The car would outrun them, but at the station Gwen would have to leave it, and run for a train before they could catch up. As the car reached the top Gwen slowed down. The descent would take her into the city streets, and she wished fervently that those would be as empty as the fields, letting her dart through with no stragglers to get under her wheels or in the way of the swarm ¡ª


    They had hit the windshield, screaming and scratching at it. Gwen screamed back at them, braking on instinct even before she realized she couldn¡¯t risk going downhill without seeing the road. She turned to the mirror to see the other, larger group drawing closer, chillingly fast now that she stood still; they would catch up soon, and claw and hit her car until the glass or metal gave in. Sturdy it may be, but against such an horde it would not stand for long.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    There had to be a way out. Before Gwen and behind lay clouds of feathered evil, but for the moment they left her flanks unattended. With a hard turn of the steering wheel, throwing them off in a spray like water, she wheeled off the road.


    The car fell hard but didn¡¯t flip over, and Gwen pushed it downwards across the wheat. It could drive on any turf, in theory, but she¡¯d never before had to put it to any test harder than broken asphalt. It was doing well enough for the moment, and Gwen felt a tiny sliver of relief. She had lost some speed by leaving the road, gained some by going down the hillside; overall, she could still outpace them. Still, she had to find her way back into the city, fast, and from the field that was harder to do.


    She turned the lights up to see better. Somewhere in front of her was the forest, but if she drove in a curve she could turn her side to it, and follow along the edge to the city. There she¡¯d have to drive to a station, run down inside and jump into the train ¡ª any train ¡ª but at night trains were few, so the risk was they¡¯d catch up with her before one showed up. A hub station would be the better choice, then, where several lines met and more trains came through. But there would be people there¡­ Well, she would have to warn them to jump in with her, wherever they were planning to go. The sight of the mass following her would be enough of an argument ¡ª perhaps enough to shut down the station, to trap them in there and torch it once the train¡¯s gone. Gwen felt in her pocket for the train pass as she drove on, trying all the while to gauge the distance to the forest where it lay unseen in the black distance. She was turning slowly to face the city again, to go parallel with the road. The plastic felt warm in her hand. The group following her, now united, lost ground, unable to compete with a tireless mechanism; if only she could go on like this, and get to the city¡­


    The wheat before her suddenly spurted black, and Gwen yelped in fear. The steering wheel slipped from her fingers, and she clutched for it frantically, clung to it and turned the car away from them ¡ª from yet another squad that had lain in wait for her, another she¡¯d not expected.


    How many were there? Were they working in concert or competing? Why were they chasing her ¡ª they couldn¡¯t possibly know ¡ª but why else would they go after her? Gwen had never before been in anything more than a glancing attack, similar to what happened to Ming. But she had heard of incidents like this, too. They would hold on to their victim and never let go. She tried to and could not remember a case when someone escaped, but it had to be possible. There had to be a way. Gwen watched them circle, lit from down below by her headlights. They did not want her to get to the city, that was clear; she had to outmaneuver them somehow. She couldn¡¯t quite see how to do it from where she was, and for the moment simply went on.


    The computer was still in her lap, its corners burrowing into her ribs. She searched the sky for that lighter patch, trying to get her bearings again. Where was the road? She couldn¡¯t be far from it, yet couldn¡¯t find it; they had turned her, and in running from them she¡¯d lost her way.


    Angry tears stung her eyes. What had she done to them, why would they do this when they could not possibly know ¡ª


    Yet in truth it was she who couldn¡¯t possibly know. Guile and trickery were their nature; perhaps they understood human speech better than anyone thought. There was no way to know what they may have seen back in the lab, what they could¡¯ve understood and let out before the thing burned; for all she knew they were already aware of everything, and went meticulously after every strand of the plan, every human, cutting them all off until there was nothing left.


    Gwen wiped her tired eyes and peered again into the black distance. She was giving them too much credit. Nobody in the facility had discovered her illegal channel, and where humans failed surely they had no chance at all.


    But why would they go for her, if not because of that?


    She should not underestimate the people around her. Perhaps someone did know; perhaps someone had betrayed her, and told ¡ª told them, in whatever way they could comprehend. If she was innocent of collusion, that didn¡¯t necessarily mean others were. It was not entirely unheard of, and especially after Far Cove you had to¡­


    Cold sweat was running down her ribs. She could not let them have her, or the data. She was going in a wide circle, watching them follow her in the distance, and it seemed to her somehow that her car was moving more slowly, that they were catching up. If only she could see the road¡­


    From the dark, a building jumped out at her, empty windows gaping, and she hit the brakes; she had no idea what it was, couldn¡¯t recognize it in this light. She wheeled around it, looking for a sign, a number, keeping an eye still on the shadow following her. A building meant the road would be near, but behind all the high fencing she couldn¡¯t see it. Still, if she only drove around it ¡ª


    Like fat black cockroaches they streamed out of the windows and shot towards her, throwing themselves into her face. With a shriek she swerved away and into the fields, and in the mirror saw the road she was chased away from.


    Suddenly the picture snapped into place, and she knew where she was; that was the old factory, abandoned, just at the foot of the hill, and that meant ¡ª


    That meant that before her was the forest.


    The mirrors were blurry before her eyes, the wheat a river of yellow where her lights shone through it. But she could still see them above it, black against black but visible as they were moving, faster, in her direction ¡ª there, between her and the road, and to her sides as well ¡ª where did those come from? She didn¡¯t know. There was not much distance left between her and them; they¡¯d catch up soon enough, and she had nowhere left to go but the forest.


    For a while she still drove on automatically, watching them come closer as the car lurched through the wheat; and slowly, very slowly the understanding dawned.


    She would not get out of this.


    It was a strange thought, an unfamiliar one ¡ª she had never before found herself in such circumstances. Before, she always knew what to do. But there were simply too many of them.


    She watched them as they came closer, watched them close their ranks to form what looked to her like a thick mobile hedge, all beaks and claws and coordination. She tried to feint to the side, half-heartedly, and saw them drift immediately to catch her, reading her intentions perfectly.


    Slowly, gently, Gwen stopped the car.


    She watched herself as if from a great distance, her hand on the gear odd and alien, something that never belonged to her. She had failed, but she could not feel it, not really. She had always known they could kill, but somehow she¡¯d always felt it would happen to someone else, always someone else, never really herself. Even when they¡¯d hit her car before she¡¯d always known it would be over, and she¡¯d get away.


    She was so certain she was prepared for every eventuality ¡ª even a trial, even prison. Yet somehow, stupidly, she¡¯d never truly expected this.


    Gwen longed now to call her family, to hear their voices; but it would only be cruel, when she had no choice.


    They had fallen on her in a storm, closing over her head like dark waters, and she stared at the demonic mass outside ¡ª the eyes, the beaks and claws, the feathers, all mixed into a whirling, screaming horror. But the glass muted their shrieks, and Gwen¡¯s own detachment muddled them further, making it all seem very remote. She watched the deep grooves appear on her windshield and heard the helpless screech of metal, but even now that they were so close she still couldn¡¯t imagine what those claws would do to her ¡ª how that would feel, to be torn apart.


    But she couldn¡¯t let that happen. She still had the data to safeguard, to take care of. Using her alien hands was inconvenient, but after some trying she managed to boot up the computer again. The connection was weak out here in the fields, and the files were heavy; it would take a while to upload them. She attached them to a letter, then sent it without writing anything. Perhaps that would be a bit mysterious, but she didn¡¯t have it in her to come up with words, not now.


    Shock. She knew, dimly, that was the reason why she felt like this, why nothing felt quite like it was really happening. It would pass soon enough, and the true horror of it would kick in. Then doing what needed to be done would be much harder. But they wouldn¡¯t give her that much time; at least that she could be grateful for. It was best to begin.


    Gwen tapped the code into the wheel, her fingers weak and uncooperative.


    Self-destruct sequence activated, the wheel shone at her. Proceed? Cancel?


    She had installed the system herself, on a sunny summer day a few years ago. It seemed a reasonable precaution ¡ª you never knew what circumstances you might find yourself in.


    Well, if she hadn¡¯t prepared for everything, at least she¡¯d done enough. She¡¯d take quite a lot of them with her, and perhaps would even merit a few articles calling her a hero. It would not be as good as finding the solution, but it would be better than nothing. Megan would lose a mother, but at least she¡¯d have a respectable memory, something to be proud of. Megan¡­ Megan.


    Gwen¡¯s chest hurt, and she bent down, her tears falling onto the keyboard. This was dangerous. She had to avoid thinking of what she was leaving, what she¡¯d be losing, or she won¡¯t be able to do it. She tried to cling to her shock, to her detached state, but it was fading, and she didn¡¯t know how to cope.


    She would never see the sun again. It was all her own fault ¡ª surely they must¡¯ve come after her because of the data she stole, there couldn¡¯t be any other reason. She would never be out of this field, out of this ball of hatred that encircled her ¡ª and all because she¡¯d been arrogant, and rash, and she gambled and lost.


    The grooves across the glass were getting deeper; Gwen felt the small bodies cling to the car, rocking it slightly. The bar that showed the files loading crept across the screen, slow like treacle but steady enough. It wouldn¡¯t be that much longer.


    The phone vibrated, and Gwen took it out to see that Santiago was calling. There was no way she could pick up, no way she could risk answering ¡ª he¡¯d know from her voice, and how could she let him know what she was about to do? She let it go to voicemail, and pressed proceed on the wheel.


    It would ask her five times. Five had felt a safe enough number. You¡¯d have to be really sure, to agree to it over and over five times in a row. Rage-filled eyes followed her every move, beaks darted towards her fingers, futile because the glass still stopped them. Did they understand what she was doing, did they understand anything? For the first time in her life, Gwen felt a strange, longing sadness towards them ¡ª not quite pity, because they didn¡¯t deserve it, but sadness; she had been angry at them for so long, because they wouldn¡¯t speak, because they were not what she¡¯d dreamed of. But, at the end of the day, it hurt them much more than it ever could humans; humanity had been there first, had much more time to learn, and without contact they had no hope of catching up, not really. Someone would find the right poison ¡ª perhaps even from Gwen¡¯s files ¡ª and they would fall and be gone; and all the while it never needed happening, if only they would speak.


    The files had loaded, and Gwen pressed the proceed button over and over again until she saw the countdown.


    Ninety seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    She would not leave, she knew that. The explosion would be powerful; she would die fast, much faster than if she let them take her. At least that was not so bad. When she''d contemplated dying, back when she had no clue how soon it would have to be, she had always thought that it was best to go fast. The less time you had to really understand what was coming, the better.


    Eighty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    More calls were coming in, but she ignored them all. Santiago, Megan, even her supervisor ¡ª the files must¡¯ve come in, causing questions. She had to tell them something, at least. She had to write.


    Seventy seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    The car was rocking harder with each second; they seemed to have found their rhythm, and perhaps were trying to turn it over, to make sure it couldn¡¯t leave, now, caught as a turtle with its feet in the air. But they wouldn¡¯t have enough time to do it, if that¡¯s what they were attempting.


    Sixty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    The message looked reasonable enough. Gwen knew her perspective wasn¡¯t clear, but there was no time to consider, to do better.


    ¡®I tried to do what I thought necessary,¡¯ it said. ¡®They¡¯ve got me. I have no choice. I¡¯m sorry. I love you¡¯


    Fifty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    There were too many of them. She would take out the whole lot; what was it, four, five hundred? Maybe more. That would surely merit a mention in the papers ¡ª that would make her family look good, make them look loyal, just in case. At least that was something.


    Forty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    The wheat was lush, too wet to catch. She couldn¡¯t see it now, but she remembered the feel of it under her wheels, remembered the recent rains. But they kept themselves dry, and those feathers would burn in a flash, like hair. The river was far; they¡¯d never make it, even if they still could fly as they burned. A human would fall on the ground and roll, trying to squash the flames; but they had no such instincts. They would not stand a chance.


    Thirty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    It was her own fault. At least it would be fast. Gwen watched herself, a tiny figure huddling in the front seat, staring into the mass of eyes that looked at her unseeing, uncomprehending, as thoughtless as if there was no sapience there at all. Humans could be that way too when riled up, but it was rare to see these days.


    Twenty seconds to self-destruct. Leave the vehicle immediately.


    If only they would speak it might¡¯ve all gone differently. There was no need for this prolonged stand-off. What was the point of this separation, this refusal? Now after all these years there would be no hope of reconciliation, even if they broke the silence at last and asked for it. People would be too resentful by now, after all the incidents and all the deaths.


    Ten seconds to self-destruct.


    The anger felt familiar, oddly soothing in a way. Perhaps it was Gwen¡¯s fault for getting in their way, attracting their attention, but it would be entirely their fault when what was coming would come.


    The last seconds were dripping away. There was still the cancel button next to the countdown, but Gwen looked away from it, not to risk being tempted. The world seemed bright and hazy to her, despite the night; her eyes ached as if she¡¯d been crying for days, and her forehead felt hot and tight. The scratching was thunderous, loud enough to ¡ª


    At last the glass shattered, falling into tiny pieces that still stuck to the inner sheet; and a head stuck in through the plastic, looking left and right, its eyes circling the insides, to come to a stop on Gwen.


    Gwen gave it a blithe smile.


    Three. Two. One.


    And for a split-second, as it stared into her eyes, she wondered if it understood.

 3. (part 1/3)

    Underneath the stone heights the quiet reigned. The Emperor rested on his perch, deep in thought.


    Outside, early afternoon sun blazed through the forest, and the autumn colors shone like flame. He could see squirrels chattering in the branches, and an occasional mouse darting through the undergrowth. His guards stood hidden in the shadowy corners of the room, close to the entrances. Silent and still, they seemed hardly present at all.


    Far out there, the Emperor knew, his servants would be busy even at this moment with preparations for the feast. He encountered opposition when he proposed to go through with it; many said it would be bad luck, after what had happened the last time.


    The year before, it was the news of Waterland¡¯s betrayal that interrupted the festivities; and nothing had been the same ever since. It was unbelievable, unimaginable because it was unprecedented ¡ª no part of the Empire had ever withdrawn, until that day. Yet it did occur, and even now the chill that had spread over the land and poisoned the hearts of the populace could still be felt.


    Trouble did not end then, either. Reclaiming the land should have been easy enough, with the Empire¡¯s far superior strength; but Waterland knew of it too, and so never faced the Empire in open battle. Instead, they hid in their misty marshlands and used trickery to lead the Emperor¡¯s investigative troops off the paths and to their doom. Very few returned, and of them none succeeded in even finding the settlement. After a while the Emperor knew he could no longer let it go on, losing people for not much of a purpose, and so he chose to give up the pursuit. Thus it happened that Waterland gained its freedom, and the Empire was left to recover from the blow.


    Now, a year later, it seemed the balance was somewhat restored. Waterland, quite apart and intent on going its own way, was struggling; the marshlands were of no use for much except food, and even that was scarce enough. Somewhere in the depths of that sodden earth an Old People city was buried; a few of its towers still showed their tops, and the Emperor knew from his spies that in one of those Waterland had placed its government. It was a ramshackle, pitiful arrangement, and said much about the state the newborn republic was in.


    Still, it was never wise to underestimate one¡¯s enemies, and so the Empire¡¯s defenses were kept as strong and wary as ever. Often, it was the weakest who would strike most forcefully ¡ª the ones with nothing left to lose ¡ª and Waterland was fast approaching just such a state. The first anniversary of their founding would be considered an auspicious date, too, and if they were to attack at all they would most likely do it then. Understanding that, the Empire had strengthened its borders, and lay in wait.


    The Emperor was staring into the greenery without seeing. All was well ¡ª all was prepared; there was no cause for sadness, yet he could not fight it off. For him, the deepest wound when it came to Waterland was not its departure itself but who headed it. During the Emperor¡¯s lifetime many young crows had passed through the court ¡ª making connections, learning the ways of the powerful, bringing the concerns of their homelands to light. Most of those had come and gone, enlightened; some had stayed, and it was those that the Emperor would grow most fond of. He had no children of his own, not yet, and so had welcomed into his heart these youngsters instead ¡ª had come to love them like family, like one of his own.


    Now it was all gone like spring snow, and the next time he would see them he would pass the sentence, and watch them die. He would have saved them if he could ¡ª he dreamt of it often enough ¡ª but by now, a year in, it was already too late, and the time had come for him to face the truth that for Waterlanders, there was only one path left.


    ¡®Your Majesty!¡¯


    The mindscape broke like glass, and the Emperor turned to face the doors, helping his balance with his wings. The guards did not move; the voice would be known to them just as it was to him, and there was no need to prevent an Advisor from entering.


    ¡®Your Majesty!..¡¯


    Arenn flew in and landed some distance from the foot of the perch, her claws scraping the stone as she dug them in to arrest her movement. Even breathless and agitated, she remembered to perform a proper obeisance, but haste made it untidy. ¡®Majesty, grave news!¡¯


    She straightened and looked up at him, waiting for the permission to continue.


    ¡®Proceed, Second Advisor.¡¯


    ¡®There was an intruder, Majesty. We have caught him. We¡¯ve caught a spy.¡¯


    The Emperor inclined his head in puzzlement.


    ¡®How is that grave news? Surely a spy captured is an improvement over one roaming free.¡¯


    ¡®No, Your Majesty.¡¯ Arenn¡¯s eyes seemed larger in the dimness. ¡®We¡¯ve caught him here. Just as he was walking out of the gardens.¡¯


    ¡®Here, in the capital?¡¯


    ¡®Here, in the palace. Your Majesty.¡¯


    The Emperor stared at her as the understanding slowly dawned. There was only one place brazen enough to send spies, but because Waterland was quite a way from the capital they had always been caught long before they reached it. If this one had made it all the way here¡­ How was it possible, what lapses in security could have let it happen? He knew better than to suspect his own First Advisor; Rann¡¯s hatred for Waterland was far more fiery than his own frustration. Therefore¡­ therefore¡­


    There had to be a way, but all the ways the Emperor could see were impossible, and his thoughts thrashed in his skull like a trapped dragonfly. Without a word he pushed off his perch and dived, using the length of the room to gather speed as he aimed towards a far window. Arenn rose to follow, and out they flew with the guards falling in place around them and squirrels scattering at the sight.


    The Emperor did not like underground spaces, but it was a necessary precaution. He entered the Department of Defense in another dive, shooting right through the spacious rooms of the above-ground level and turning into the dank corridors below.


    The few torches that hung on the walls here and there flickered in the wind. The corridors grew more narrow the further they went, and the Emperor could imagine the weight of the earth above pressing him to the ground. But a lifetime of being royalty had taught him to hide his unease, and he knew he appeared as stately as ever.


    The great doors that led to the lowest levels were opened for him, and he had no need to slow his flight until he reached the place. He had not asked Arenn for the directions; the one interrogation room they had was the only place the spy could currently be.


    None but the worst offenders were sent down here permanently ¡ª to spend the remainder of their lives in tiny cells, alone with their mounting insanity, forever separated from the world and their own kind. Most were given the choice between the cells and death; many chose the latter, and the Emperor was not surprised ¡ª a crow was not meant to live underground, away from the sun and the skies. But even the Emperor himself could not argue for clemency when the people thus punished were murderers.


    Compared to them, this spy was at the same time both better and worse. His motives could quite possibly be pure ¡ª to serve his country, to aid his people; but his allegiance would make his presence in the Empire intolerable, his existence impossible to prolong. There would be no choice for this crow.


    The interrogation room was one of the deepest, the darkest, the most grim; the feel of it alone was akin to torture. Only those few who were specially trained to endure it could stand it for long ¡ª only those few like Rann, who, as the Emperor now saw, had made it there before him.


    The others there sank to the floor in formal greeting but Rann only gave him a look; as his wife and thus his only equal, she was of course exempt. The Emperor heard Arenn and his guards drop into bows, too ¡ª not for him, because they had come with him, but for Rann. Arenn¡¯s ¡®Your Majesty¡¯ to her was barely audible.


    The firelight glinted in Rann¡¯s feathers and shone red in her eyes.


    ¡®It claims it will only speak with the Emperor,¡¯ she said. There was no emotion in her voice, but the Emperor knew her well enough to read fury in her curtness, and in her calling the spy ¡®it¡¯.


    The intruder was tied to a post, held fast at the legs, just below the ribs, and then at the neck. Unarmed and surrounded, he was safe to approach, and the Emperor strode toward him; but as he came closer, the prisoner opened his eyes ¡ª


    ¡®A child?!¡¯


    The Emperor recoiled, horrified. He had expected much evil from Waterland, but this was worse than even the bleakest of his guesses.


    The blue eyes had a dazed, distracted expression. It was impossible to tell how damaged the child was from the capture, but the Emperor knew his troops, and knew that if the spy had fought back at all there would have to be some injuries hidden by the feathers. He certainly looked as if he were in pain.


    ¡®It seems Waterland sends children to fight their battles,¡¯ Rann said, still in the same bland, inert voice. ¡®And to spy for them.¡¯


    At those words the prisoner¡¯s gaze focused somewhat.


    ¡®I am not a spy,¡¯ he mumbled. ¡®Nor am I a child.¡¯


    He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision it seemed, and as he grew more alert the Emperor saw the hatred emerge onto his face, and the hostility. There was something aberrant about that expression on the face of someone so young.


    ¡®Are you the Emperor?¡¯ the spy asked, blinking still. Rann moved to censure him, but the Emperor waved her down: impertinence was only to be expected from a Waterlander, and considering what fate awaited him there was no point in teaching him any better.


    ¡®I am,¡¯ the Emperor said. ¡®If not a spy, then who are you?¡¯


    ¡®A messenger.¡¯


    ¡®And what is your message?¡¯


    To his side, the Emperor caught a movement as Arenn stepped to the table that stood by the wall, where writing supplies were laid out. She had been an Advisor for long enough that she learnt well to anticipate orders. If the message were to be cryptic, they could all discuss it later, and not be confused by differing memories.


    ¡®The most gracious Presidential Council of the Republic of Waterland,¡¯ the child began, but then lost it in a fit of coughing. After a guard, following Rann¡¯s direction, poured a drink of water into the prisoner¡¯s beak, the coughs subsided. ¡®The most gracious Council bids you to consider your fate, and give in to our superior power before it is too late. We shall come, and when we do you shall surrender or perish.¡¯


    ¡®The Council thinks much of itself,¡¯ Arenn said. Rann only made a huffing sound.


    ¡®It is news to me,¡¯ the Emperor said, ¡®that Waterland has any claim to superior power. Can you elaborate, my child?¡¯


    The blue eyes looked almost purple in the firelight, like lavender.


    ¡®I am not a child,¡¯ the prisoner repeated. ¡®Nor am I yours. Have you not wondered how I came to be here?¡¯


    An odd premonition descended onto the Emperor, a feeling as if he knew exactly what would be said next. He would wonder later if it was because he¡¯d known of that old city in the marshes, if on some level he¡¯d expected this, even if it was impossible ¡ª if, in some peculiar way, he figured it out just before the words came.


    ¡®I flew here,¡¯ the child said. ¡®I flew above the clouds, and never needed my wings to do so.¡¯


    For a while, there was no sound but the crackling of fire. Then Rann spoke ¡ª


    ¡®Lies.¡¯


    The spy laughed ¡ª a weak, pained sound, ended in yet another cough. Eventually he managed to master his voice enough to reply ¡ª


    ¡®You are so certain. You wish it weren¡¯t so, couldn¡¯t be so, but it is just so. We¡¯ve not spent this year doing nothing, you know ¡ª we¡¯ve been working, searching, and now¡­¡¯ Another cough; and, following Rann¡¯s gesture, more water. ¡®Now we¡¯ve discovered what none before had. Not because they had lacked ability, but because you never allowed them. But Waterland is a free nation, and we have¡­¡¯You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡®Are you claiming that you¡¯ve restored the Old People¡¯s inventions?¡¯ the Emperor asked.


    ¡®No need to claim. It is the truth. How else do you think I could have arrived here, into the very heart of your domain?¡¯ The spy¡¯s voice was growing quieter as he tired of speaking, but still he went on. ¡®All the soldiers you keep, all the barriers ¡ª they are nothing to the iron fliers that the Old People built. We have found them; we¡¯ve restored them, and their ways of speaking to each other across great distances, and many other wondrous things that you can never hope to match.¡¯


    ¡®Waterlanders are good with words,¡¯ the Emperor said. ¡®I know that well, for I have taught some of you myself. But do you have any proof of this ¡ª any at all?¡¯


    A small pause as the child recovered his breath, and the Emperor felt it again ¡ª another stab of intuition, a cold touch of the future he already knew he could not avert.


    ¡®Look in the bag.¡¯


    In another life, in another world that answer might have been ¡®no¡¯, and all would be different; but in this life the Emperor watched as the sack was brought forward, and peeled back to show a dark object that was recognizably, chillingly foreign ¡ª recognizably of the Old People, sleek and unnatural, and even carrying some of their mammalian smell somehow still, after what could only be centuries in the water.


    ¡®Explain, messenger,¡¯ Rann said.


    ¡®Open it.¡¯


    To the Emperor, it looked more than anything like a piece of grey slate found by a river ¡ª shaped by water into soft lines, but not destroyed, not yet; and it must be light like slate, too, if this child alone had carried it. The guards holding it had more trouble with the bulk of it rather than weight. They found the split in it, long and straight, and with some effort pulled it open, resting one of the parts on the floor and allowing the other to rise up.


    Suddenly, the thing came alight.


    They all shrunk back from it, from its eerie, wintry glow; but it was small after all, and made no sound or movement, so after a while they approached it cautiously again. The light was not solid, but made of what looked like millions of tiny pinpricks, each glowing like the moon. The Emperor squinted at them, and made out a picture of a forest; not a forest he knew, and not as black as he would have expected an Old People forest to be, but at least it was nothing threatening.


    ¡®I have read about these,¡¯ Arenn said suddenly. The Emperor turned to her, grateful. ¡®There have been some findings of these, in the Old Days before it was all forbidden. But they would never shine for long ¡ª after only a few days, they would die and be useless. It¡¯s only a decorative item, isn¡¯t it? A kind of lighting.¡¯


    ¡®Not this,¡¯ the child said. ¡®I can show you, if you bring it close enough for me to reach.¡¯


    ¡®Not with all of us around you won¡¯t!¡¯ Rann darted forward in a flap of wings, placing herself between the spy and the object. ¡®That is much too dangerous. I cannot let the Emperor risk his life in this manner. I can¡¯t even do it myself, in fairness. Volunteers?¡¯


    ¡®I, my lady!¡¯ came the shouts of several guards, but above them the voice of the prisoner rose, hoarse, distorted by the pain ¡ª


    ¡®No! The Emperor must be present, he must talk to them, there won¡¯t be much time ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Why won¡¯t there be much time?¡¯ Rann whirled to face him, staring him down, and all sound swiftly died. ¡®What is your plan? How did you intend to murder the Emperor?¡¯


    The child only gave her a look.


    ¡®I intended no such thing,¡¯ he said wearily, softly. ¡®Just talk to them. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, I was to bring this to you¡­ Only let me call for them.¡¯


    ¡®Call them here? They will not be allowed in the palace, whoever they are.¡¯


    ¡®They will not be here, only their voices. Just let me do it. They wish no harm to the Emperor.¡¯ The child turned to him. ¡®They remember their times here, you know. If they can take this land bloodlessly, they will be glad to do it. There is no need¡­¡¯


    ¡®I cannot let them take my land,¡¯ the Emperor said automatically. His eyes kept returning to the object. The pale light it cast over the room felt wrong, poisonous. He remembered dimly a tale of just such a thing ¡ª an unseen but powerful poison the Old People made, which afflicted all in its path, burning and twisting the insides of every creature until all succumbed. But he could not even know if it had been real, let alone if it were possible to recreate it. And regardless, if this light was that poison, then it was already too late; they might as well proceed.


    Rann met his eye, and he gave her a tiny nod.


    The thing was brought to the prisoner¡¯s face, to allow him to touch his beak to the lighted surface. The picture changed, but it was still too bright for the Emperor to see much ¡ª too bright, and too large, disjointed; if he could look at it from a greater distance perhaps he would have been able to see it better, but here in these cramped quarters it could not be helped.


    ¡®Done,¡¯ the prisoner said after only a few touches. This speed felt deceptive, and the Emperor tensed. ¡®Now sound will come. Wait.¡¯


    Arenn moved forward a little, staring at the lights. They had all read on the Old People and the magical things they could do, but it still felt surreal that one of their creations would be here, active for them all to witness its works. In a way it was like seeing a mythical being, a Fire Bird or a Striped Horse, something curious and dreamlike; but unlike those the Old People were a fact, not a story, and suddenly after centuries it felt almost as if they were here ¡ª as if they had never left, but only lay sleeping in the marshes, to return some day and destroy the Earth again.


    There was a reason why their ways had been forbidden. The Emperor stared at the object, feeling as if there was something he had missed, something that was already too late to correct.


    For a while, the thing did nothing but emit occasional chirpings, like a grasshopper but much higher pitched; then ¡ª


    ¡®Your Majesty?¡¯


    Even though the sound was distorted he still knew that voice, would know it on his deathbed.


    ¡®Erren?¡¯


    ¡®But of course, your Majesty.¡¯ He sounded as if the year never passed, as if nothing had changed. ¡®You have received my message, I trust? Haven¡¯t killed my poor messenger yet?¡¯


    ¡®We have received it,¡¯ Rann said. ¡®We see no reason to oblige, though. Just because you''ve discovered some old tricks ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®And my lady is there, of course,¡¯ Erren said, laughing a little. ¡®Nowhere to go without my lady. We have discovered much more, my lady; we know such things you could not dream of ¡ª no, not even you. For so long you¡¯ve denied this knowledge to the people, but we shall remedy that.¡¯


    ¡®What do you want now, Erren?¡¯ the Emperor said, as evenly as he could.


    ¡®You have seen some evidence of our current might,¡¯ Erren said. ¡®But I gather you are not sufficiently impressed. Very well, tomorrow you shall see more. On the day when we celebrate a year of freedom, fortune shall be on our side; and we shall come to you, and take you with us into a brighter future ¡ª take you with us even if we have to carry you flapping and screaming. The time has come, my lords and ladies.¡¯


    ¡®Come if you must,¡¯ Rann said. ¡®You¡¯ll be just in time to see your little messenger perish. His execution will fit right into our entertainment schedule.¡¯


    ¡®Will our arrival, my lady? The iron fliers of the Old People take up an awful lot of space, you know.¡¯


    ¡®Iron?¡¯ Rann laughed. ¡®Is that all? I¡¯d think you¡¯d know we can deal with that, Erren. Even you should know it, in theory at least ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®What do you mean by that, my lady?¡¯ Erren¡¯s voice abruptly turned harsh.


    ¡®Well, it¡¯s not as if you could ever know it from experience¡­¡¯


    ¡®This had nothing to do with me!¡¯ Just like that, he was shouting at her. ¡®I am not a coward, Rann, however many times I have to tell you ¡ª I had to protect my people, we would stand no chance against you in a fair fight, but were I alone I would ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Whatever calms your conscience.¡¯


    For a moment, the Emperor heard his breathing, then Erren seemed to take hold of his feelings.


    ¡®Tomorrow,¡¯ he repeated. ¡®We¡¯ll come, and you¡¯ll see. We¡¯ll ¡ª¡¯


    And then suddenly he was gone, but instead came a different sound ¡ª a chirping again, a twittering, faintly questioning in its inflection.


    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯ Rann asked.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ the spy replied. ¡®It does that sometimes. Are you truly going to execute me?¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t they warn you before they sent you?¡¯


    ¡®Yes, but I hoped perhaps you might¡­¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t hope,¡¯ Rann said, turning away from him. ¡®All shall proceed as planned.¡¯


    They left the spy under heavy guard and walked out, into the corridors leading above.


    As soon as they were out of earshot Arenn turned to the Emperor.


    ¡®Your Majesty¡­¡¯ She bowed again, quite needlessly, in what he guessed was an attempt to mollify him. ¡®Is that truly necessary? An execution? After all, he¡¯s¡­¡¯ Under Rann¡¯s glare she withered, but pushed onwards. ¡®This is only a child.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t agree,¡¯ Rann said dryly. ¡®If it thinks it¡¯s big and important, a messenger of the Republic, then we shall treat it accordingly. It¡¯s a Waterland traitor, and thus deserves execution; it¡¯s a spy and an invader of the capital, and thus deserves it thrice over. Can you dispute any of that?¡¯


    ¡®I do not believe we need to categorize him as a spy,¡¯ the Emperor said. ¡®He did bring a message, so that claim of his is valid. But Rann is correct about the rest of it. I can see your point,¡¯ he said to Arenn as she opened her beak again, ¡®but it is inevitable. I cannot let a spy live.¡¯ She did not reply, but the look in her eyes unnerved him. ¡®I could have ordered him tortured, Arenn, to find out if the object was dangerous. I did not do that, as you may recall ¡ª I chose to trust him. You are right that this is only a child. He shall be beheaded. It is a fast death, and about as much mercy as I can reasonably grant a Waterlander without risking a riot over it.¡¯


    Arenn lowered her head, but before she did he caught a glimmer of relief in her eyes.


    ¡®You¡¯re such a pigeon, Arenn,¡¯ Rann snapped, evidently having seen it too. ¡®Children can be just as dangerous. They can kill, too.¡¯


    ¡®But he did not kill us,¡¯ Arenn said. ¡®The object worked the way he said it would.¡¯


    They walked out onto the first floor, into the sunlight coming through the open windows, but Rann¡¯s thoughts were clearly still back there, with the prisoner, in the darkness below.


    ¡®That¡¯s not good news,¡¯ she said. ¡®He did come out of nowhere; little as I like it I do believe he didn¡¯t lie about those fliers, either. Whatever it is exactly, it¡¯s of the Old People¡¯s heritage. We can¡¯t know for how long the Waterlanders will be able to control it before it turns on them and destroys them, and us too if we¡¯re not wary enough. You¡¯ve read the same texts I have; you know how bad it can be. We must be prepared.¡¯


    ¡®But you are, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ the Emperor said softly. Rann gave him a warning look, but he went on, ¡®Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s time to tell? You will need Arenn¡¯s help to put it all in place, and you can delay no longer.¡¯


    He expected Arenn to be surprised, to start asking questions, but he should have given her more credit.


    ¡®The fire arrow,¡¯ she said. ¡®And the caged lightning. Is that all?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve been looking into my department,¡¯ Rann said.


    ¡®My duty takes me to all corners of the capital. Sometimes I see things. And it is, after all, my duty to pay attention, and come to conclusions.¡¯


    Rann sighed.


    ¡®It¡¯s not all, but those are the main ones.¡¯


    ¡®Will they take iron?¡¯ the Emperor said.


    ¡®They must, but if those fliers are as large as Erren implied, we¡¯ll need to prepare a great deal of ammunition.¡¯ She waved Arenn on. ¡®Come with me, then, and we shall start.¡¯


    The day of the feast arrived in the glory of sunlight, and in the sound of hammers.


    The Emperor observed the preparations from the window of the library, where he had called the Advisors. They had left by now, burdened by additional orders; most of it would lie on Rann¡¯s shoulders, of course, but the others would have duties, too.


    Before Rann there had never been an Empress who was also an Advisor. There had been those who had been Advisors but shed their position once they were married; Rann was the first to refuse that, and he did not have the heart to deny her, even though it took changing the law to make her wish possible.


    It was hard to believe now that at first he had not wanted her, had rejected her as a mate; but she had seemed so alien to him then, so incomprehensible with her warrior¡¯s ways and her cutting words, and he had not understood her value. Now he knew better. There was a place for crows like Arenn ¡ª like himself, too, if he were to be honest ¡ª loyal and reliable, but hopelessly ordinary. And there was also a place for those who burned with a greater fire, and were willing to go far.


    No wonder Rann had been forever at odds with Erren. They were too much alike, in this of all things, to ever be at peace. Erren had always had a vision, a grand plan of how the world should be; it had always been clear he would be led astray by it, yet the Emperor never expected just how far. Certainly he would have never thought Erren would sacrifice children to his cause, but that had happened, too.


    Erren had been lost the day he left, but the Emperor was only now coming to fully realize it, to feel it to his core, now that the first of the Waterlanders was about to die on his command. He would have spared the spy if he could, but there was no point to it ¡ª there could be no future for a Waterlander here, no return after the way they had left; and the people would never accept him, either, not after so many soldiers had already perished because of Waterland¡¯s deceit. This child would only be the first of many. Even as bitter regret flooded the Emperor¡¯s soul he knew he had no choice but do it, would have to watch it happen and let it progress to its end even if all inside him screamed for it to stop.


    The silence fell gradually, and the Emperor hardly noticed that it was all over until the last hammer stopped and the last steps retreated. Outside the rows of perches rose high, almost a forest in their own right, and the courtyard lay quiet in the sun, peaceful as if it had never seen blood, would never see it in the future.


    The Emperor stepped away from the window. Rann and Arenn had worked through the night, he knew, preparing defenses greater and stronger than the capital had ever seen, and he thanked silently his wife¡¯s foresight that caused her to prepare for an attack so thoroughly that now one night was enough. It said much of Waterland¡¯s arrogance that they chose to forego the benefits of surprise, and gave an open warning instead. Still, it remained to be seen if they would be true to it. Perhaps they believed their iron would prevail, or perhaps they had truly thought the Empire might surrender. Erren was not the only wild dreamer leading Waterland to its doom ¡ª they were all like that, the Emperor knew, those young leaders who seemed to imagine that everything would go as they wished if only they wanted it quite enough. To a point, it had worked for them; but now there would have to be an awakening.


    The iron fliers were difficult to imagine. The ancient texts that spoke of the Old People had few pictures, and most of those few showed the Old People themselves ¡ª towering, fleshy monstrosities, their spines pulled straight, their faces flat and unreadable. The Emperor could not recall one picture of the machines they used to fly, even though there had been verbal mentions. Bird-like they had been, apparently, and white; rising high to hide beyond the clouds, they could not be seen until they chose to descend again, and even on clear days they had ways of obscuring themselves. The Emperor imagined a quiet, pale shadow, moving among clouds until it was lost to sight. The spy must have been dropped from it, swaddled tight to protect him from the airless cold of the upper reaches, and then once he had fallen far enough he could have thrown the covers off, breathed in and flown. It would require some skill to go through such a fall, but with training it should be possible. The young spy was brave, whatever else he was. At least that might help him now, if nothing else could.


    The gong sounded for him, and the Emperor took off ¡ª out through the window, up into the sky and across the courtyard, to his chambers from which he would emerge in due course during the festivities. Twice the usual number of guards rose up to surround him, and as he soared he saw the shadows below dotted with dark grey spots ¡ª Rann¡¯s people, with their feathers dusted, spread across the territory in a pattern only she would know the full meaning of. The rocks, too, seemed more numerous than yesterday; he guessed that the new ones were weapons, concealed but ready.


    He waited in the chambers for Rann to come. She returned barely in time, and her eyes still wandered the sky even as the shiny golden decorations of the Empress were pulled over her head and hung on her breast. Only when the heavy doors began to open did she look ahead and compose her face into an expression of serenity. The Emperor and the Empress took wing and emerged into the sunshine and the deafening, raging cheers.

 3. (part 2/3)

    The execution site was arranged just in front of the royal table. The Emperor looked down from his perch to the tables, empty for now but already decorated, then further to rows and rows of seats where his people were placed ¡ª those that were influential, noble or rich enough to be invited to the palace itself. Outside, beyond the walls, he knew the simpler folk were celebrating, too. Perhaps he would be able to hear them if it were quieter, but the excited noise of the gathering obliterated any sound that might have floated in from the city.


    The few clouds that had drifted about in the morning disappeared by now, scorched away by the sun. Rann¡¯s stare was firmly on the southern sky just in front of them, but her side vision let her see her husband¡¯s gaze following her, and she muttered ¡ª


    ¡®After all our preparations, imagine how very wonderful it¡¯ll be if they don¡¯t show.¡¯


    ¡®I doubt Erren would do that, after ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Erren!¡¯ She huffed in scorn. ¡®That¡¯s exactly what concerns me. No battle yet has he liked enough to attend. Why would he change now?¡¯


    ¡®A battle is not what we want, either.¡¯


    ¡®It will have to happen eventually,¡¯ Rann said. ¡®Better now when we¡¯re prepared, at least.¡¯ She moved her head a little to check behind her head, making sure again that none were close enough to hear. ¡®And I¡¯d like to see those iron fliers, too.¡¯


    With some surprise, the Emperor realized he was somewhat curious himself. The notion both repulsed and fascinated him ¡ª the Old People''s arts, brought to life. He did not wish for the return of the black skies, or the dirt and dust, or any of the other horrors of the Old People world ¡ª but he did wonder how exactly it had all been achieved. Nothing he knew had that kind of power, and perhaps there was a way to turn that power to a better use¡­


    He watched the entertainment, all the while aware of how rigid Rann remained. The people likely noticed that as well, but he hoped it would not seem too odd to them, coming from her who could be like that often enough. These were times when her warrior side woke in her; this was when he understood her least. She would stare, motionless, poised as if about to strike prey, and in those moments he could no longer see in her the one he loved, but only someone to fear. But this part of her nature mattered to her, and so he had come to accept it.


    There would indeed be prey today, whether Waterlanders came or not. As musicians and dancers, declaimers and actors rotated before his eyes, the Emperor could see Arenn behind the stage, stationed with the guards as they kept watch over the prisoner. After the performances were over, just before the feast, the spy was scheduled to die. Blood would awaken everyone¡¯s appetite. It was an ancient drive, and not something to discuss openly, but arrangers of events still exploited it. The spy himself seemed asleep, apparently unbothered for the moment by his fate; but soon enough his head would fall, and just like that he would be no more than meat. None would touch him, not these days, yet the sweet smell of blood would affect them all regardless.


    Now that she was in the public¡¯s eye Arenn looked impassive, but the Emperor knew she would be uneasy, placed so close to the one she did not want dead yet could not help it. He saw the spy awaken and speak to her; she gave him no reply, but waved for water. When a guard poured it right into the child¡¯s beak, some of it missed, leaving droplets to glitter on the feathers. There was nothing else there, on that small body ¡ª no badge of honor, no sign of belonging ¡ª nothing but the ropes. The device had been left behind, in the deep rooms, so as not to frighten the people with a display of forbidden technology. They would see some anyway if Waterlanders did arrive, but there was no need to worry them beforetime.


    It was a shame that the Emperor did not enjoy the performances, but he could not help being so distracted. ¡®Tomorrow¡¯, Erren had promised; yet here that tomorrow was, drawing to a close, and still in the sky there was nothing but the sun that crept across and downwards, slow as a snail yet inexorable. Perhaps they would not show, after all. Perhaps Erren truly was the coward Rann thought him.


    The last performance was a ballad ¡ª long and grand, chosen for the finish because of its somber subject. The musician sang of the battles against the Old People, and the many lives that were there futilely lost. Progressing from that to the execution would come quite naturally. The singer was known to the Emperor. Hannir by name, she had performed for the court many times before, always appreciated for her clear voice and poetic skill. But today of all days he could not hear her, had his thoughts wandering off constantly, and only hoped she did not notice and was not offended.


    The sun was firmly to the Emperor¡¯s right, already nearing the edge of the wall. The lower levels lay in blue shadow already, and the fires by the stage and on the tables have been lit. One of the guards was lighting some around the prisoner, too, and the Emperor saw the child¡¯s stare follow the movements. Those blue eyes would never turn black now. Of all the unforgivable things Erren had done, this was the worst: sending a child to its death, and all just for the sake of a message¡­ If only Erren would come in time to save this child ¡ª if only he cared to save him ¡ª there could still be some hope. But the sky remained empty.


    The final chords of the ballad caught the Emperor off-guard, and he didn¡¯t at first realize why all of a sudden such noise came from everywhere; then, as he saw Hannir spreading her wings wide in acknowledgement, he knew it for the end. Life-long training pushed him to pretend all was well, to stomp and caw in approval of his subject¡¯s performance. But as he watched Hannir step down and walk away, something in his soul felt very small and very cold.


    He should have never expected more of Erren. He was a traitor; he would only ever be that now. It had all been over the day he had left.


    The Emperor stood up, and the crowd fell silent. Rann¡¯s breathing was suddenly audible to him; she was still staring at the sky, but he sensed her tension, her rage, and knew she¡¯d given up on expecting Waterland to do as promised. All the work was to be for nothing. Then again, perhaps that was Waterland¡¯s plan ¡ª to waste the capital¡¯s strength, and come in the night when everyone was tired from waiting. If so, it would be thwarted ¡ª Rann would be ready for such a turn, too ¡ª but for now, under this blank sky, there was nothing but disappointment.


    The people were watching the Emperor. There was still the speech left, the last item on the list before the execution.


    ¡®My dear people,¡¯ he began, and was greeted by bowing and stomping. ¡®It is a great honor to me that you would celebrate the birth day of my person with such joy. It is my duty to lead you, and guard you, and together with you advance to greater accomplishments. It is a duty that I do with pride, and I am grateful to all of you for your trust in me. I could not be more fortunate.¡¯


    The speech was all too familiar; the words varied, but the meaning remained, always. It was imperative to convey to the people how much he valued them. A number of his ancestors had been dethroned and destroyed over failure to do just that.


    ¡®But not everyone was willing to follow our path,¡¯ he continued. ¡®Some have chosen to stray.¡¯ A grumbling rose above the seats even before he called out the name. ¡®The country of Waterland, which calls itself a republic, had sent us a messenger. That child you can see over there ¡ª the child who is¡­¡¯


    ¡®Traitor!¡¯ someone screamed, and a number of voices rose in support. The Emperor opened his wings in a gesture of mollification, to silence them again.


    ¡®A traitor indeed,¡¯ he said once they subsided. ¡®And by the law of this land, as a traitor he shall now die.¡¯


    The crowd cheered, stomping now with enough vigor to make the perches tremble. The prisoner stared into nothing, blinking heavily ¡ª impossible to tell at this distance whether from weariness, or tears, or simply the evening sunlight that he couldn¡¯t avoid, tied up as he was. Arenn was looking up at the sky, keeping her face devoid of expression. Whatever she felt, she would not be careless enough to show any pity, not now when she could be torn apart for it.


    ¡®If they had not sent him here, it would not need to happen,¡¯ the Emperor went on. ¡®If they left us in peace, we could be merciful. But they made their choices, and so we make ours. All traitors shall meet the same fate.¡¯


    Looking in the darkly joyful faces below, the Emperor felt sharper than ever the certainty that they would make him meet that very fate, too, if he displeased them even a little. He had known from the start that his title was formal and his power limited, but never before had it stung quite like this.


    He took a breath to continue when he saw Arenn suddenly dart forward. So he was wrong about her, too ¡ª she would speak out, would plead for the child¡¯s life, as if today hadn¡¯t brought enough disappointment. As she landed before him he stared at her, amazed that she did not know better, appalled by what he would have to do to her now. He had no clue what to say to her, how to stop her, but there was also Rann ¡ª Rann and her anger, Rann who hissed in a furious whisper before Arenn could open her beak ¡ª


    ¡®Don¡¯t you dare! Don¡¯t even think of it, you stupid ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re coming,¡¯ Arenn muttered, low enough for only the couple to hear, and at first the Emperor thought he¡¯d misheard. He saw Rann¡¯s eyes dart over the sky again as self-doubt flashed in her, but still it was empty, and she shot back, offended ¡ªIf you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡®There¡¯s nothing there! Are you saying they¡¯re invisible, have you been listening to that ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Not there,¡¯ Arenn said, and something was very wrong about her voice. ¡®Behind you. Look to the north, Majesty.¡¯


    Rann whipped around, and the Emperor turned to look with her, but before he could make anything out someone below shrieked ¡ª


    ¡®What is that?!¡¯


    Then the Emperor saw, too, and at first did not believe his eyes.


    Something was off about those shapes. Small and distant, they seemed nothing like the descriptions of old, but that was not all. Dark, oblong shapes hung in the sky as if at a strange angle, in a way that didn¡¯t quite make sense ¡ª as if something in their geometry didn¡¯t add up ¡ª and they did not seem to move, yet somehow there was still a feeling of movement. He could not really put it into words.


    The crowd began to grumble again, louder by the second. Rann turned back to him, and just like that she was changed ¡ª elated, now that a battle was coming after all.


    ¡®Tell the people to leave,¡¯ she told him. ¡®I¡¯ll go down.¡¯


    The Emperor nodded, and in a flash of black and gold she was gone, dropping like a stone to the ground where under the perches her people were stationed.


    The noise of the crowd washed over him like waves, growing; he saw them begin to move, and knew he had to take control before it was too late. The shapes loomed over the horizon, seemingly motionless, but by now all of the people had apparently seen them and were growing frightened. The Emperor flapped his wings to call for their attention, then shouted over the noise ¡ª


    ¡®Fear not! You shall be protected! Leave for your homes at once, for this here shall now be a battleground ¡ª but fear not, for we shall prevail and celebrate our victory tomorrow!¡¯ He searched for words, the right words, but with the wrongness of those shapes filling his mind it had become a challenge. ¡®Waterland may threaten us, but we have far superior ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Waterland¡¯s to the south!¡¯ someone yelled from the crowd, and the Emperor squinted down to see, but the unsteady light of the torches made it harder to tell faces apart. ¡®That can¡¯t be them!¡¯


    ¡®Shut up!¡¯ someone else shrieked. ¡®That must be some foul trick of theirs, to confuse us!¡¯


    ¡®A foul trick indeed,¡¯ the Emperor proclaimed, wishing he could be as certain as he sounded. ¡®Confusion is the way of Waterland, but where in their fetid marshes they could trap our brave soldiers, here in the heart of our land they will have no chance. Fear not, my people!¡¯ He flapped his wings again, for emphasis. ¡®Hooray!¡¯


    They responded, but the shouts came half-hearted, and muddled because most were taking wing at the same time. He watched them rise up above him and disperse, so fast that in just a few heartbeats the courtyard cleared. Plates left behind gleamed like clean-picked bones. The Emperor looked down, searching for his wife, but could see only a servant hurrying away with the decorations she must have thrown off. The rest of the soldiers, grey with dust, all appeared the same at this angle.


    ¡®Majesty,¡¯ Arenn said. ¡®I don¡¯t quite see the point to this trick. Why would they come from the wrong side if we can see them come just the same? They gain nothing by doing that.¡¯


    The Emperor looked across the yard to where the prisoner still stood, alone now that Rann called his guards to her side.


    ¡®Let¡¯s ask the messenger,¡¯ the Emperor said and took flight, with Arenn falling hastily into place behind him.


    The prisoner was staring north, kept staring even as they landed before him. Now, close up, the Emperor could see he looked feverish; but instead of excitement he only seemed confused, and the Emperor wondered if he could still understand what was happening.


    ¡®You should be glad,¡¯ he said to the prisoner. ¡®They have come, after all.¡¯


    The child¡¯s eyes did not leave the shapes.


    ¡®But it¡¯s not them.¡¯


    Again the foreboding rang through the Emperor¡¯s mind, a sense of something forgotten, something horrific, but he went on stubbornly ¡ª


    ¡®Who else would that be? The flying machines are coming, just as Erren ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®My country¡¯s flying machines are nothing like these. I do not know what these are.¡¯ The child picked weakly at the ropes with his beak. ¡®Will you untie me now? Your feast is over, the execution will not happen today.¡¯


    ¡®Do not be so certain,¡¯ the Emperor said, but his thoughts kept circling the objects in the sky. Something about them was trying to make itself heard in his head, something that he couldn¡¯t quite catch. ¡®I have promised it to my people, and I keep my promises.¡¯


    ¡®You have promised them victory,¡¯ the child said.


    ¡®And I shall bring it, or die.¡¯


    ¡®Then you might as well untie me now. To me, that does look much like your death.¡¯


    A guard landed next to them and bowed, eyeing the spy with obvious distaste.


    ¡®You may speak,¡¯ the Emperor said.


    ¡®Her Majesty sends word,¡¯ the guard reported, slightly breathless. ¡®The defenders are in position. By sundown the attackers will be upon us.¡¯


    The sun hung above the wall, its red disk half-covered by the treetops.


    ¡®So soon? How¡­¡¯ the Emperor began, turning to the objects again ¡ª they had grown bigger, true, but they still seemed too far to have much of a speed, and there was still something wrong about them, something ¡ª


    Then suddenly it all slid into place, and he stared, gaping, disbelieving. To move the way they did ¡ª in this odd, wrong manner that felt like it tricked the eyes, as if there was yet wasn¡¯t any change ¡ª they had to be much larger than he had thought, and much higher, descending as well as advancing. That was what made them so strange, and that meant they were actually moving at an impressive speed.


    ¡®What are these?¡¯ he breathed out, and his own voice sounded alien to him.


    Nobody answered him. Around, the winds were rising as if before a storm, though no cloud marred the sky.


    It did not feel real, after all.


    The Emperor stood on the abandoned execution platform, in a now empty courtyard, staring up at where the colossal machines drifted closer, rapid and utterly silent. Around him, the trees whispered in the wind, and the perches swayed and screeched ¡ª a mournful, troubled sound; but he could hear nothing else ¡ª no calls, no movement ¡ª and knew that all life in the woods had gone still, paralyzed as one by fear, watching the sky where the unknown loomed.


    The Emperor¡¯s mind boggled at it. The Empire was the world ¡ª so it was known, or had been. Apart from the small patch of Waterland there was nothing else ¡ª nothing but endless expanse of ocean, spreading every which way for as far as a crow could fly. Yet here was evidence right before his eyes that there was more ¡ª that there existed something that birthed these immensities, each the size of his palace at least.


    If this was something that Old People had made, then no wonder countless ancestors of his had perished fighting them. Something so heavy, so shapeless should not possess flight at all, and for the life of him the Emperor could not comprehend how it was possible. Yet they did fly, and as they approached they loomed larger and larger, taking over the sky until one was right overhead, lowering itself until there was nothing left of the sky but a thin strip encircling the horizon ¡ª deep red on one side, blue on the other. The belly of the thing right above hung low enough that some of the firelight from the courtyard reached it, showing bumps and ridges ¡ª sheet metal, the Emperor guessed, each plate as large as the yard he stood in.


    ¡®Let me untie him,¡¯ Arenn said, and the Emperor realized with a jolt that she was still worrying about the prisoner. ¡®We must leave here, all of us, leave Rann to her business. This is too dangerous, and he is weak, it is cruel ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®All right,¡¯ he said, only wanting to be rid of her so as not to be distracted, ¡®untie him, go.¡¯


    The knot was elaborate, but anxiety must have given Arenn greater insight, because she managed to unravel it in record time. The prisoner nearly fell on her, and she had to let him lean on her as she led him to the edge. But before they reached it, at last something changed.


    An opening appeared in the metal, one of the pieces sliding aside to let out a much smaller shape. The Emperor had been looking up for so long in this limited light that his eyes started aching and it was hard to see, but it appeared to him that the shape began to descend.


    ¡®Your Majesty,¡¯ Arenn said, insistent. ¡®We must leave now.¡¯


    There was reason in her words, yet something about this new development claimed his attention, and he waved her aside. From below, he heard the clicks of Rann¡¯s weaponry taking aim, heard the sizzle of the lightning as it came to life in its cages. Its glow at last gave his eyes some relief, and he could see better. This shape had no wings, either. It was a much paler grey than the metal from which it emerged, and looked solid, seamless like an eggshell and in a way oddly¡­


    Beautiful, the Emperor thought, and a sudden flash of hope lit up his mind. Something this lovely, this flawless would not be dangerous. The machines seemed hostile only because they were immense, but they had done nothing yet to prove it ¡ª and perhaps they would not, perhaps whatever they bore had come in peace¡­ Perhaps, at the end of it all, there would be nothing to fear.


    Oblivious of the world around him, overtaken by fascination, the Emperor watched the shell drift downwards. He gave up on guessing what it could be ¡ª he would learn soon enough; and so he only waited and watched, enraptured, as the thing touched the ground with a soft thump, raising small puffs of dust.


    He heard the screeches from below as the weapons turned on their bases, following the shell.


    ¡®Hold the fire,¡¯ he called hastily, pitching his voice to carry, just in case Rann had a different opinion on it all. ¡®No fire without my command.¡¯


    For a few moments, nothing happened. He stared at the shell, but it remained motionless. Someone landed near him, scraping the platform, and when he turned he saw Rann.


    ¡®Why are you holding?¡¯ she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. ¡®This is clearly a threat, this is¡­¡¯


    ¡®Not necessarily. Look how perfect it is, just look! I wonder¡­¡¯


    The pearl moved a little, and he forgot to speak. Out of nowhere a crack appeared on its surface, feather-thin and forming an oval; then, soundlessly, the oval was pushed out and slid aside, and a sudden gush of white light flooded the yard, blinding, making the Emperor look away.


    When he turned back, they were already coming out.


    Beautiful, he thought again, seeing them, and his breath caught. These were no Old People, certainly ¡ª none of that awkward frame, or disproportionate limbs, or inflexible joints. More than anything, in shape they resembled horses, but their skin was smooth like a frog and blue as a child¡¯s eyes, sparkling gold and green where light brushed it. And they had faces ¡ª faces that were, perhaps, the only thing that somewhat resembled the Old People: flattish, with slit-like mouths and huge shining eyes that were placed in front, not at the sides.


    The faces turned to where the crows stood on the platform, and their eyes met the Emperor¡¯s.


    Before such beauty his soul soared. There would be no danger, no battle after all, he was certain; if anything could bring peace and harmony, it would be these magical, wondrous beings, with their gazes full of wisdom. He saw the soft rising of their chests, the liquid movement of their limbs¡­


    But near him, below and to the side, the lightning still sizzled, spurting fire, and before he could speak ¡ª before he could think at all ¡ª the visitors¡¯ eyes were drawn to it, and changed.


    ¡®Kill the aim,¡¯ the Emperor said hoarsely, his throat grown sandy. Rann understood and took over, shouting ¡ª


    ¡®Down with the weapons! No aim!¡¯


    But as the last of her words rang out he already knew they were too late.


    The visitors had six limbs ¡ª he didn¡¯t notice at first, because the top ones hung in line with the second pair. But he saw them now when they lifted a metallic bar, black against the faintly glittering blue skin ¡ª saw them as they aimed.


    He did not even have time to move before a sheet of red light washed over his head, singeing the feathers. He sensed the heat and ducked, and the next thing he knew he was being pushed off the platform. He half-rolled, half-flew down, landing on the ground and in near-full darkness.

 3. (part 3/3)

    The Emperor stared around wildly, but Rann was not there. She must have been the one who shoved him; he could only hope that she had time to get away herself, too. The smell of burnt feathers was creeping all around him, and with it came a mounting, hideous panic.


    If only he had thought to make that command earlier! Now it had all gone wrong, and it had been his fault, which meant it would fall to him to correct it ¡ª but he could not even begin to think how. There were screams up above, screams and shrieks and hissing, and it took great effort for the Emperor to tune it all out, to stop terror from overcoming him. He would need to go out of here, to the open ground where the shell stood; he would need to convince them, somehow, somehow ¡ª


    ¡®Your Majesty!¡¯


    A guard nearly ran into him and jumped back hastily, bowing, grey with dust. The structure that had been put up for the feast was not meant to be traversed on foot here, at ground level ¡ª the planks and pillars stood too densely packed, too numerous, and obstructed vision so much that it was easy to lose the way even in daytime, let alone now when only faint glimmers of firelight made their way in here. Normally the Emperor would have taken wing to see where to go, but the flashes of red that came from above made him unwilling.


    ¡®Where are my Advisors?¡¯ he hissed at the guard. ¡®Any one of them, now, right away.¡¯


    The guard trembled before him, and the Emperor knew he must be a sight ¡ª ruffled from the tumble, his decorations askew, head feathers charred. The guard waved to the right, and the Emperor stumbled in that direction, with the guard falling tentatively behind.


    As the Emperor walked, hopping over the planks, he realized the acrid smell of burning was growing stronger. In just a few moments he learnt why, when they came across a body. At first when he spotted it he feared the worst, but at this close distance it was easy to see it was not Rann. The body lay feet up, and the Emperor had to circle it to peer into its face; another guard, with a deep, slashing burn across her chest. He did not take a closer look, and went onwards, trying to suppress a shiver. This was not the time for mourning. He had to make contact, had to explain ¡ª but how could he? What words to use, how to approach beings in such a defensive stance that they would apparently kill on sight?


    The Emperor¡¯s mind was too muddled from the fall and the smoke to be of much use. He had to find his Advisors and make them think for him.


    Apart from Rann who was his wife, and Arenn who was responsible for the palace, he had relatively little contact with the rest of them outside of council meetings. The Third Advisor ¡ª resources, Fourth ¡ª agriculture and hunting, Fifth ¡ª scientific exploration¡­ The Fifth might be helpful, the Emperor thought, but he was not in the capital, traveling in the western forests to seek out new species. They had all grown lax, having faced no trouble but Waterland for so long. They had not been prepared for anything like this.


    In the distance ¡ª as much as he could glimpse here of it ¡ª he saw some people running and darted to intercept, but they were gone before he could catch up, disappearing into the maze of wooden poles. The Emperor gave up.


    ¡®I have to go up there,¡¯ he told the guard. ¡®Cover me.¡¯


    But the guard looked panicky.


    ¡®I must not let your Majesty,¡¯ he mumbled, cowering but valiantly forcing the words out. ¡®Her Majesty¡¯s orders ¡ª safeguard Your Majesty¡¯s life, keep Your Majesty¡¯s out of peril ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®That is what you will be doing if you cover my ascent.¡¯


    ¡®But, but,¡¯ the guard stammered, peering upwards where the red lights flashed, ¡®but it¡¯s too dangerous, too much risk, alone I can¡¯t¡­ I could never¡­¡¯


    The Emperor briefly considered abandoning him altogether and risking flight without protection.


    ¡®Will you disobey my order?¡¯


    ¡®Never, Majesty, but¡­¡¯


    ¡®Why would you go up there?¡¯ another voice called, and the Emperor whirled around.


    Arenn stood a few poles away. Down here, amid all the dust and with the noise that came from above, her steps had been too quiet to hear. She seemed ruffled but unharmed, and the Emperor was momentarily glad.


    ¡®Where is everyone?¡¯ he asked as she approached, but didn¡¯t wait for the answer. ¡®I must go up there, find help, so that we can explain that we didn¡¯t mean ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®How?¡¯


    Arenn sounded oddly serene, and that irritated him.


    ¡®What do you mean, how? I must talk to them, convey to them that it was a mistake, that we need not fight ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®How will you speak to them, when you do not know their language?¡¯


    The Emperor blinked at her as the truth of it slowly came through. He had not considered this at all. The shouting that drifted from above seemed to bore into his scull.


    Still, he tried ¡ª


    ¡®That is why I need you, you and the rest ¡ª we must devise a way to send a message, to make them understand ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®Later,¡¯ Arenn said, looking past him. ¡®Later we shall do that. It will take time, much time. You must leave now, Majesty. Save yourself, for the good of the realm.¡¯


    ¡®You mean run away?¡¯


    ¡®I mean do your duty.¡¯


    Their eyes met, across the air that was slowly filling with smoke.


    ¡®Where is my wife?¡¯ the Emperor asked, looking at both of them ¡ª Arenn and the guard. ¡®I will only leave when she is with me.¡¯


    ¡®That is unwise,¡¯ Arenn said. ¡®She is a warrior, she can save herself. You must leave before this whole place is ablaze.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. We will go up ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We will go to the forest.¡¯


    The Emperor could take it no longer.


    ¡®What is wrong with you, Arenn? My duty is here, to protect my realm, my people who are murdered out there, for a single mistake ¡ª I must correct it, I must, and here you are daring to order me ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®I am not ordering, Your Majesty, only reminding you of your duty.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not listening! Haven¡¯t I said just now ¡ª¡¯


    But she only pointed upwards, and when he looked he saw the top reaches of the structure on fire already.


    The guard was staring at it, too.


    ¡®Please, Your Majesty,¡¯ he whispered, visibly shivering. ¡®Please let us leave, before this¡­ this¡­¡¯


    The wood was dense and had been treated, therefore could not burn fast, but even so the fire would reach the ground soon. Most of the smoke must be blowing away, but enough of it made its way downwards that it was becoming hard to breathe. The Emperor could not tell if the heat he felt was from the fire or merely imagined, but he could no longer argue.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ he said. ¡®We go.¡¯


    Arenn ducked down into a low arch of sorts, and he remembered that she would know how this was built ¡ª she had supervised it, after all. She would know a way out.


    True enough, only a few twists and turns later they came out into the cool night air. The Emperor looked around, still hoping to see Rann, but there was only a palace wall, with a door open in it, and nobody in sight.


    He was not immediately sure what the place was ¡ª the red flashes made the world look unfamiliar, confusing. But once they stepped inside he recognized the interior, and wordlessly shot forward, taking wing now that he knew the walls protected him.


    ¡®Where are you ¡ª¡¯ Arenn began as she caught up, flying close to him.


    ¡®The library,¡¯ he said curtly. ¡®Maybe there will be something ¡ª ¡¯


    ¡®No!¡¯


    Something pulled him down, so abruptly that he had no time to resist. Arenn¡¯s face flashed past as she threw him against the wall, letting go as he fell to the floor in a heap. The guard rushed forward to help him up, and as the Emperor got to his feet he saw Arenn land on the floor, too, panting and giving him a glare furious enough to pass for Rann¡¯s. The small wounds left by her claws had begun to hurt, but any indignation he might have felt about the assault winked out under her stare.


    ¡®Emperor or no Emperor,¡¯ she spat out, ¡®duty or no duty, I will not let you kill yourself. What library, what are you doing, have you lost your mind? Do you think there is anything there on blue six-legged beasts, something about their language, their weapons perhaps? Nobody has seen this before, nobody knows what they are!¡¯


    ¡®Don¡¯t you see?¡¯ He felt drained. ¡®This is my fault. I have done this when I didn¡¯t order the weapons down in time. I made them turn on us ¡ª I might as well have killed my people myself! I should have¡­¡¯


    ¡®They turned on us before we fired,¡¯ Arenn said in a softer tone. ¡®That is not on you.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter. I must save my people.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s quite impossible by now.¡¯


    The red lights danced on the walls ¡ª weaponry or fire, he could no longer tell. The torches indoors paled next to the blaze outside. The Emperor looked around, looked at his things ¡ª his palace, his home, to be abandoned now to the invaders. Many generations of his ancestors had collected these riches, these relics, but he would have to leave it all to destruction and flame.


    ¡®Where can we even go?¡¯ he said. ¡®We will need to organize people, to create some way of resisting these¡­ beings. We will need Rann. Where is she?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯d let you find her if I knew,¡¯ Arenn said. ¡®But I don¡¯t. If she makes it out, I shall be glad, but if she does not, we may not need her, after all.¡¯


    ¡®How do you mean?¡¯


    ¡®Erren. Make peace with him, and he¡¯ll help.¡¯ Arenn stepped closer to him, her eyes strangely intent. ¡®I brought the prisoner down again, to where his artifact was ¡ª¡¯This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The Emperor was appalled.


    ¡®Arenn! That is not your province, you had no right ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®We are under attack,¡¯ she said simply. ¡®I did what I could to help us.¡¯


    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯


    ¡®I had him call Erren. He is here with his people, in the forest. They have come, after all.¡¯


    So Erren had done as promised. This could be the chance to mend it all ¡ª could be, if only Erren played along. If he came to help, then perhaps he could be forgiven ¡ª perhaps on that pretext, at last, the Emperor could sell to the council the idea of letting Erren live¡­ If only he meant it, if only he would be true for once, all could still be recovered. After a year of wishing, dreaming of the impossible, trying and failing to come to terms with the finality of it, to now have this hope was unthinkable ¡ª unthinkable yet sweet, making the Emperor forget for the moment where he was and what was happening outside, forget everything but his dream.


    Then he remembered Rann, absent, lost somewhere out there in the fires, and knew as his heart fell that he could not abandon her, whatever the cost.


    ¡®Erren can wait,¡¯ he said, forcing himself to seem indifferent. ¡®We will go to the forest after we collect the survivors, whoever they may be. We will exit the palace and wait outside, where those beings cannot see us. We will watch the place, come to intercept anyone leaving and call them to our side. And only when there is no-one left will we depart. And you,¡¯ he told Arenn pointedly, ¡®will not try to stop me again.¡¯


    ¡®As Your Majesty wills,¡¯ she said. ¡®But if you wish to collect the survivors, we should start with the spy. The rest may get out on their own, but he cannot.¡¯


    There probably was some argument to be made against this, but at the moment the Emperor could not quite think of one.


    Flying across the forest was not the only way to reach the lower levels; underneath the palace, tunnels lay that led there, too. The Emperor had never used them before, unwilling to stay underground longer than was necessary; but now that the usual route was too dangerous he had no choice but to follow Arenn down into the passages that were cold and seemed endless.


    The Emperor watched her back as they flew, watched her wings beat up and down, and wondered if he was walking into a trap. Normally he would not expect this of Arenn, but after she had contacted the rebels ¡ª and, worse yet, after her attack ¡ª he was no longer as certain. With only one guard, he would not be able to put up much of a resistance in case of trouble. A part of him wished to turn back, or at least to speak of his suspicions to her. But he had hesitated for too long, and now it was too late. Then again, perhaps a trap would not be so bad after all, if it was Erren¡¯s. In silence, the Emperor flew on.


    When at last they emerged into the familiar corridors near the interrogation room, the Emperor was fully prepared to meet an invading force. But there was no-one in sight here either, and again frustration and mistrust rose in him. Had Erren truly come, was he waiting in the forest? Or had it all been a lie, and he had been home in Waterland all this time, directing the Emperor to the forest only for the sport of it?


    Rann would have known what to do; she would not have doubted, or longed, or felt lost.


    In the interrogation room, the artifact lay in the corner, quiet and dark now. The spy sat next to it on the ground, with a plateful of rat bones next to him.


    ¡®You have returned for me,¡¯ the spy mumbled, looking up at Arenn with gratitude. But then, as he noticed the Emperor, his expression soured. ¡®Has he come to kill me?¡¯


    ¡®No,¡¯ Arenn said. ¡®I¡¯ve convinced His Majesty. We¡¯re leaving to join your people. Can you fly?¡¯


    The child was out of his bonds, fed, and seemed improved overall; but when he tried to spread his wings it was obvious they were broken, and the movement hurt him. Arenn waved him down.


    ¡®Flight might be dangerous anyway,¡¯ she said. ¡®In this much light, we¡¯ll be visible despite the night. We¡¯ll do better to crawl.¡¯


    ¡®Cover his eyes,¡¯ the Emperor said. ¡®I would not have him know the way.¡¯


    Arenn bound the prisoner¡¯s head with cloth like she would a wound, while the Emperor instructed the guard to support and lead the prisoner. Together, the four of them exited the place and entered the long corridors again.


    The smoke was beginning to make its way even here. Coughing, they turned and turned, following Arenn, hurrying on foot over the dusty floor and sending mice scurrying at their approach. But this time the path was shorter; soon enough, they came to a door, and once Arenn pulled open the trick lock and pushed the doors ajar, he understood why. They had not gone under the palace this time, but took a side turning and came out outside the walls.


    The Emperor felt a peculiar coldness as he turned to stare back at the door, so well-camouflaged that it seemed one with the rocky hillside, likely impossible to see when it was closed.


    ¡®Does my wife know of this?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Have you seen the lock?¡¯ Arenn gave him an odd look. ¡®Of course she does.¡¯


    ¡®I see what they meant when they spoke of the Empire¡¯s foulness,¡¯ the spy said unexpectedly, as the guard was unwinding the bandage from his eyes. ¡®No trust, no reliance, only the fear of each other that chains you down and obscures the light¡­¡¯


    ¡®Quiet,¡¯ the Emperor said. ¡®We know nothing of the senses these beings possess. We must cross unseen and unheard. Let us cover ourselves.¡¯


    The sky was filled with smoke, red light reflecting off it; there was enough of both on the ground, too, to give them some degree of shelter, but the Emperor wanted no risks. Following the example of Rann¡¯s soldiers, they all filled their feathers with earth ¡ª dry and grey, it was nearly as good as dust. In the distance, they saw a few of the invaders move, shooting at the sky. The Emperor noticed some targets fall, and looked away. No time to mourn.


    The forest was nearby ¡ª only a few minutes away on wing. But the need to traverse the ground in a discreet, stealthy manner made the path much longer. With each step, the Emperor hated it more and more; his body was not made for this, and he longed to fly up, but he dared not risk it. It was hard to see the far distance, but the invaders were tall enough that he could still make out their heads and long, lithe necks. Even now, after all they had done, they seemed beautiful to him, and inwardly he cursed them again and again ¡ª for rushing to attack, for coming at all. Then he cursed himself, because it had been his fault, too, regardless of what Arenn said. He had believed their splendor meant something, when he should have known better. He had believed in them, and he did not even fully understand why.


    Yet there was no time to lament his own mistakes, either. The woods inched closer with each step, and he was straining his eyesight looking into the black-and-red shadows. Around him, he heard the others struggle along, coughing from time to time ¡ª Arenn to his left, the guard and the prisoner to his right. He had hardly noticed when the ground began to change, when he reached the edge of the forest. The first trees grew sparsely, and in his mind hardly counted. He crawled on, determined, starting to lose his sense of self in this world of endless insect-like crawling, when someone¡¯s wings suddenly flapped in his face, catching him, making him stop.


    Something in him moved before he even knew, before he could understand or see, rising in iridescent, giddy gladness, just from the familiar feel of it, from the scent in the air perhaps or the sound of movement, the recognition of the son he never had, of what he had thought lost forever and yet never quite believed.


    Someone else pulled him up, but he did not see who; he could see none but Erren.


    ¡®You have come to me,¡¯ he whispered breathlessly, almost falling over with the sudden tide of exhaustion. ¡®You¡¯ve come, after all.¡¯


    Erren opened his beak, but before he could speak a clap of thunder came over them all, loud enough to make the Emperor stagger.


    ¡®Wha ¡ª¡¯


    A flood of white light cut through the woods, turning everything clear as day, covering the ground in razor-sharp shadows. The Emperor spun around, resisting the urge to cover his eyes, but at first could see nothing but a tower of light, pale and inexplicable.


    Very gradually it was fading, and for a few heartbeats the Emperor could see nothing in it; but then the light dimmed enough that he managed to make out a few shapes. They circled the sky, tiny against the looming light, and his heart skipped. Could that be Rann? Had she done something to destroy their enemies ¡ª had she found a way to win this whole fight, and save them all?


    ¡®Who is that?¡¯ Arenn said next to him, staring into the light, too. ¡®I can¡¯t quite see ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re following,¡¯ Erren spoke over her.


    The Emperor saw that too, now ¡ª two six-legged figures, cantering after the crows, aiming their weapons. The red flashes stood no chance against the white glow, so whether the beings were firing remained unknown. But as the Emperor strained his vision, trying to tell his subjects apart or understand what was happening, he felt instead a strange absence, as if something was missing.


    He blinked. The light had faded enough for him to see the palace towers, but they were not there. The invaders had demolished his home.


    The crows were still darting across the sky, weaving their way above the creatures; it looked almost as if they were trying to move towards them rather than away.


    ¡®Don¡¯t watch that,¡¯ Erren said next to him. ¡®Come with me to the camp ¡ª we can talk of it all there, where there is no noise to distract us.¡¯


    ¡®We planned to collect our people before we leave,¡¯ Arenn interrupted. ¡®Those are our people. We wait.¡¯


    ¡®Those are only few,¡¯ Erren said. ¡®What does it matter? Most have fallen already. You won¡¯t gain much if you ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®What is that?¡¯ the Emperor cut in between them, unable to keep the tension out of his voice. ¡®Listen!¡¯


    They fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened; then, from beyond the rustle of trees and grasses, a scream came in patches, torn by the wind ¡ª


    ¡®You will ¡ª will pay for the death ¡ª I shall make ¡ª the death of the ¡ª you will not ¡ª¡¯


    Even at this distance, the Emperor recognized the voice.


    Without thinking he rushed forward, only to be pulled back by Arenn and Erren both.


    ¡®Don¡¯t!¡¯ Arenn screeched into his ear, so loud he recoiled. Erren beat his wings at her ¡ª


    ¡®Quiet, won¡¯t you! I don¡¯t need them all to run here, we have enough ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s her,¡¯ the Emperor gasped, trying to wriggle out of their hold. ¡®Rann. I have to save her.¡¯


    ¡®Too dangerous,¡¯ Arenn snapped. ¡®I told you ¡ª¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ Erren said on his other side, soothing. ¡®See? My lady¡¯s flying away. She needs none of us, not she.¡¯


    Yet the Emperor was nowhere as certain. He stared into the sky so intently his head hurt, watching the shadows move across the now-purple sky, where the towers of his palace stood no longer; and with each moment as he watched he grew more convinced that somehow, for some reason, Rann was not flying away at all, but instead trying to dart down ¡ª to hurt the creatures. What had she been saying? What was it that she¡¯d screamed at them ¡ª


    ¡®You will pay for the death of the Emperor!¡¯


    Arenn and Erren both flinched as it carried loud and clear, and the Emperor used their surprise to at last push them off.


    He shot up into the sky fast as a falcon, leaving them behind, shaking the crumbly earth off his feathers as he flew. Up, up and forward ¡ª across the stretch of meadow which seemed so meager from the air ¡ª to Rann, who must have thought he¡¯d been in the palace and burnt with it; to Rann, who had to be shown the truth and taken away from there right away, before worse happened.


    ¡®Rann!¡¯ he yelled, but the wind threw the words back into his throat. ¡®Rann! I¡¯m here, they didn¡¯t ¡ª Rann¡­¡¯


    The two creatures below seemed sluggish, and made their shots nowhere near as often as those who had fought in the courtyard. Perhaps they were wounded, or simply tired easily. Still, it took effort to keep an eye on them and evade their attacks. The Emperor let the lights fly left and right of him, too close for comfort, yet he had no time to weave properly. He had to reach her.


    Rann was dipping and rising below him, and he knew from the way she moved that she had not heard, had not seen him yet; and his disguise would make him less visible in this light and smoke ¡ª but not so much that she could not see him if only she would look up ¡ª


    ¡®Majesty!¡¯


    One of Rann¡¯s soldiers, the few who were with her, saw him and shot forward to intercept, trying to fall into a bow in mid-air; but the Emperor only flapped at him to get back, to save the Empress.


    ¡®Rann!¡¯ he screamed again, trying to be heard over the wind. She was so close now that he was sure she had to hear. Jumping away from shots, he saw with horror one of the soldiers being struck. But that body falling past her at last made Rann look up.


    There was such fatigue in her eyes, and such sadness as he never knew her capable of; yet as she saw him her face lit up ¡ª


    ¡®I¡¯m alive!¡¯ he shouted to her. ¡®Come away, leave ¡ª¡¯


    She never knew she had been hit; he saw in her eyes she did not. He watched it as if slowed down, dreamlike and eerie ¡ª the wide red shaft of light hitting her in the chest, her stare becoming instantly emptied, as if it took only a moment to extinguish a life. He saw her body turn around a little before she lost flight and dropped down, down and gone into the smoke and shadows ¡ª gone forever.


    As the Emperor watched her fall, he saw them staring back at him ¡ª the invaders, the murderers, with their great eyes shining like ice.


    He had never known such rage. Perhaps it was Rann¡¯s parting gift ¡ª perhaps finally, dying, she had with her last breath given him the strength he¡¯d never had, the fury he¡¯d never understood.


    He had never before been so agile, so rapid; but now he darted between the red beams as if inspired, seeing his path downward as clearly as if it was a thread tugging him, binding him to his targets, making him one with their thoughts. He foresaw their movements and outsmarted them, he swooped at their heads and slashed with his talons, cutting through whatever was underneath. Dimly he understood that Rann¡¯s soldiers had joined him, but his vision was red, and none of it mattered. When the creatures reached for him with their long arms, he feinted and made them grab at each other fruitlessly instead, while the soldiers came at them. He weaved his way between their legs and made them stumble, then fell on them again from above to peck, and cut, and scream into their faces ¡ª


    But they were not screaming back, and that was odd. Something about their silence made him suspicious, and he looked up just in time to see one more being, galloping towards the fight, raising its weapon.


    Perhaps it was always meant to be this way ¡ª for him to die here, by the walls of his broken home; perhaps his entire life¡¯s purpose was to kill those who killed her, to blind those eyes and see the blood gush, to destroy and be destroyed, and thus pay for what he had done wrong.


    The Emperor looked into the barrel as the light came, the world around him once again decelerating as if ready to fade out.


    Then there was ¡ª heat; and then, nothing.

 4. (part 1/3)

    Shean could not recall what it was that had woken her. There was a feeling of a slight wrongness, perhaps an odd smell in the air, but nothing certain ¡ª nothing she could hold on to, when her now-alert mind collided with the dreaming ones around.


    She stared up into the darkness, trying to calm down, but predictably it was not working. The rush of the others¡¯ unconsciousness came at her in waves, powerful enough to drown. She lacked the skill yet to fight it, so before she knew it she had given in and was pulled under.


    Lying on her back, Shean felt her own body slip away from her, tugged in odd directions by fragments of thought that were too small for her to decipher. It was not pain exactly, more of an existential discomfort, but much like pain it had to be waited out. It had happened to her before; now, too, it would pass.


    Slowly, gradually, her consciousness accustomed itself, and the chaos began to abate. The blackness spun above her, unrelieved even by the slightest tinge of grey. The curtains around the bed ate up all sound, and the loudest thing Shean could hear was her own heartbeat ¡ª so potent, at the moment, that it seemed to push her as it came in, strong like the tide. The feel of her own body, her limbs, returned, so she could sense her own weight again as it was pulled slightly to the side by the moon that hung low above the horizon.


    The dawn was near, but not so near that she should not sleep a little more if she could. In the morning, there would be consequences ¡ª waking up by accident was a child¡¯s mistake, something Shean was expected to be long past at her age. The Mistresses would be displeased, Siel would laugh at her ¡ª and Shean could not even tell what had caused it, could not explain and would have no defense.


    Someday, she thought as her consciousness faded, someday she would become better at it ¡ª someday she would no longer err, and would know¡­


    When she woke again, to the sound of the bells and the grey light of morning, it took her a moment to remember why she felt so beaten; but as she did, inevitably she was caught.


    Waking at night? Mistress Sian called at her, pointing her thoughts so hard that Shean winced. The others all turned to stare. The inner hum of their surprise was too undefined for words, but what Shean felt of it was bad enough. The Mistress went on, making Shean shrink further ¡ª


    Indeed you should feel ashamed before your peers. This is a remarkable failure. Can you explain it?


    Shean had nothing to offer her, and could only radiate confusion.


    If you cannot even remember what it was that woke you up, the Mistress thought, you clearly lack control. I did not expect it of you. You will improve your concentration.


    The command fell heavy as granite, leaving Shean no choice but compliance.


    I will, she thought, and tried her best to stop feeling. The first and most essential step to control was having no emotion, none at all. Yet she was so tired, after not sleeping enough¡­ and ashamed¡­ and afraid¡­


    But what had there been to be afraid of?


    Shean¡¯s embarrassment only grew with each successive idea, and was apparently discomforting enough that the Mistress relented and let her go.


    It is most important that you do not give in, she called to the room at large, and the others acquiesced as she went on, Keep trying, keep pushing no matter how hard it gets, for that is the only way. You know what happens otherwise.


    The morning dimness felt a little darker as the ringing doom of that idea hit them all and evoked the understanding. They did all know ¡ª it wasn¡¯t a knowledge that could be escaped, not with the Affirmations to remind them all of the harm that could be done when control was lacking and attention was not paid.


    The others were washing themselves, wiping their bodies with wet cloths, and Shean joined in, rushing it because she had wasted time trying to quiet her inner turmoil. The water was near-freezing, but the pain cleared the mind, and by the time Shean was done she realized she was hungry. But that would have to wait; first, there was the morning Affirmation to go through, and one class.


    Shean pulled on her robes hastily, ignoring the familiar prickle of rough wool, and just managed to find her place in time for the whole group to step out and proceed in orderly fashion down to the yard.


    On the way other groups joined them, and Shean sensed Siel¡¯s mind nearby. They had not seen each other, but that was not needed ¡ª Siel was somewhere close enough for awareness, and for her thoughts to sting Shean upon contact like electricity, like pain and power rolled into one.


    It took Siel only a moment of scanning the minds of others before she learned of Shean¡¯s error.


    I¡¯ve always known you were weaker, Siel shot at her. Waking up like a baby! What next, voicing, visions, madness? I¡¯ve always known this would be how you¡¯d end up.


    I am not ended yet, Shean thought back.


    Arrogant, Siel slapped at her, and Shean flinched away.


    Cut it, a graduate called to both of them from the front. Save it for work. This is not the time.


    Irritated, Siel nonetheless subsided, obeying her elder. But Shean still felt her mind near, with its fiery brilliance that saw nothing but sharp, black shadows and pure light.


    The grounds met them all with a sporadic rain, a pearly sky, and a faint smell of cinder drifting in from the great mines in the mountains.


    Much strangeness came from the mines, but Shean had long ago learned not to question. The mines were secretive enterprises, employing only those who excelled in thought closure, so that the discoveries and practices of one mine could not be stolen by another. Smells and sounds, eerie lights, even an oddly-colored precipitation now and then ¡ª they all went unexplained, pointedly ignored by the Mistresses, and even when rare outliers like Siel dared ask, no answer came.


    The main yard was large enough to accommodate the whole school ¡ª the students and the staff, several hundreds in total. Some children would get frightened at first by the crowd ¡ª those who grew up in manors or villages and had never before seen such numbers in one place. To Shean, born and raised in a city, this had felt almost like home ¡ª but only in the beginning, only until the first Affirmation came and tore her apart, leaving her weeping blood. Shean had not expected it to be much worse than what occurred in the city, but she had learned better. Back home, with the Affirmations led by the Mayor, the force of them was spread among all the citizens. Here, though, there were only a few hundreds ¡ª and to add to that, the Directress held a higher rank in the Academy than the Mayor and therefore possessed greater power. Shean had regretted coming here then ¡ª had spent a long time regretting it, hurt and lonely as she¡¯d been then. Now she was older and stronger, soon to be a graduate herself, and the Affirmation was no longer a destructive force to her. But even now she still had not learned to appear unaffected by it the way the Mistresses did.


    The Directress rose from her seat and stepped forward, and Shean watched, trying hurriedly to empty her mind. It was not working; still her worries clung to her, and she felt Siel¡¯s attention on her, like an arrow trained on her back. When the wave came Shean would not be ready. She gave up trying and braced herself for the coming darkness.


    The wave of silence was a complex piece of mental arts, far above even the graduate level. Shean could never think her way through it ¡ª might as well try to swim up a waterfall. There was no place for awareness in it, no place for a sense of time passing; but there would be pain, if you failed to be sufficiently prepared. At least it was short.


    Once it was done and her consciousness returned, Shean found herself shivering and blind; she stared in front of herself, waiting for her eyesight to recover, and listening to the envy that echoed all around her. There were a lot of younger students here, those who had not learned better yet, had not truly understood. The Affirmation would teach them, eventually. Ambition was expected here, in one of the most prestigious schools of the colony, but it had to be stifled.


    Follow me, the Directress thought at the assembly, her voice so strong an imperative that it bent the will like a blade of grass. Repeat. Remember. Believe.


    After years here, Shean knew all too well what was to come.


    I am guilty, the Directress called, and they followed all as one, irresistibly compelled, broken already.


    I am guilty, as those that came before me were guilty. My guilt is that of conceit, and of haste; my flaws are numerous, and must be restrained. I am angry, and anger has no place in the natural world that surrounds me. I am defensive, and defense is redundant. I am evil, and I shall pay for it unless, and until, I change. Thus I promise to spend my life, changing; I shall grow, and evolve, until time or death erase my flaws, and I am at last forgiven.


    Until I am rid of evil thoughts, until I am rid of anger, I shall always carry the guilt. I shall always pay for the Crime. I am one of many, and until I die, I shall labor for the redemption, unattainable though it might be.


    Shean found herself facedown on the grass when it was over, and sat up with effort, feeling the weight in her bones as if they were made of lead. This made the wave of silence seem almost tolerable. The emanations of pain and misery coming from all around made her queasy, and her hunger was gone. Yet at the same time she was hazily glad to have done her duty ¡ª to have gone through another Affirmation, and survived; to have suffered, and perhaps bettered herself through it, and paid a little more of the great debt incurred by her ancestors.


    It had been generations since Shean¡¯s people came to this place, but the story of their arrival still reverberated. They had thought the world empty, the civilization that had populated it long gone. Once they discovered there was another, they came to meet it, intending at first to come in peace ¡ª but with the many flaws that riddled their minds it was, of course, not to be. They failed to understand what they saw, and responded with violence to what was in fact only confusion. By the time they learned of their mistake, it was already too late. The innocent locals had perished, murdered by the invaders, and the shame and guilt of it would be indelible. One mistake it was, only one ¡ª but one was enough when it showed the true depths of evil that reigned in their hearts, poisoning their mind and their genes forever. The Affirmation was meant to remind and to punish, to ensure that what had been done is remembered, and would not happen again.


    Yet by now, after so many years, the significance of it had diminished. Back home, Shean remembered, the Affirmations were seen as largely irrelevant ¡ª something to endure, then forget about. The Academy disapproved, but it had little power over the cities, populated as they were by lower office and field workers. At least in its own schools the Academy could do as it saw fit; and so at least here the Affirmations functioned as they were meant to, shining a light on the truth and making sure that no-one could look away regardless of how much it hurt.


    The smell of burning was still in the air, mixed with the morning damp. Waiting for her stomach to settle, Shean watched the Mistresses as they stood up and fanned out, each proceeding to her class, so graceful and poised as if they¡¯d not been affected at all. Whether they truly weren¡¯t in pain, or simply knew how to contain and hide it, Shean had no way of knowing.


    Exercise, now, Mistress Sian ordered Shean¡¯s group as she came closer, and sent them a picture of how they were to arrange themselves. No more instructions were needed, because the morning exercise was always the same: concentration and exploration, and general preparations for the day to come.


    The mental aftereffects of the Affirmation were beginning to set in, and Shean¡¯s mind was growing pleasantly blank. She sensed Siel¡¯s approach and turned to face her. Siel¡¯s eyes glittered as she settled on the grass, tucking her legs under herself. She was arranging the folds of her robe carefully, so as not to crinkle it, when Shean heard her speak ¡ª


    You can¡¯t do it today. Not now, not after what you did during the night. You¡¯ll fail.


    She looked up, serenity and spite mixing peculiarly in her expression.


    Not if you guide me, Shean thought, meeting her eyes ¡ª and falling.


    It was rare to find your true opposite, so you had to make do with the next best choice. For her, that was Siel. They were not a true match ¡ª not exactly dissimilar in every way, as it should be ¡ª but there was enough of a natural discord between them to make things work, to allow for a safe channel most of the time. Where Siel was hard and stubborn, Shean was flexible and retreated easily, stepping away from trouble when Siel would pick up a fight. But both alike lacked warmth, and in that similarity lay a weakness which at times had left them open to outside influences and damage. Still, that did not happen often, and it was at least more than some others here had. Being able to work properly, as only the presence of the opposite allowed, was worth it, even if occasional disturbances were the price to pay for it.


    Today, though, the channel opened strong and clear, separating the two girls from the rest, excluding the world. Their surroundings retreated fast, until there was nothing left but an ocean of endless, blissful light.


    And you said I couldn¡¯t, Shean thought, elated, feeling the surge growing between them and carrying her onward, as the energy built up. Here we go, here I come¡­


    Pulled by the current, she had taken the first turn without asking, and now she felt Siel¡¯s irritation at that; but it only made her stronger. Here, in the light and quiet of near-solitude, all tasks seemed easy ¡ª all goals attainable, as if all it would take was for Shean to reach for them. She was aware it was only an illusion, a consequence of this artificial environment; the sense of power would end, and leave her drained. Yet while it lasted, work could be done.


    Don¡¯t go too far, Siel called, it¡¯s only morning. But the flood had already claimed Shean, and she rose with the waves, unwilling and unable to stop, reveling in the addictive joy of privacy, of her mind being ¡ª almost ¡ª only her own¡­


    Her kind had a complex relationship with the idea of being alone. Separation was sought, precisely because it did not come naturally. When awake, they would hold back their thinking as much as they could to avoid intruding; and while keeping secrets from minds more skilled than your own was impossible, it was only polite to try and stay out of others¡¯ thoughts as best as you could. Yet in the same time none of them could do well when deprived of contact with the minds of others. Hearing nobody but yourself felt wrong, unnatural somehow; and so when faced with a lonely journey their instinct was to pull someone ¡ª anyone ¡ª into joining, by force if need be. This kind of call could have great power, and even trained minds would find it hard to resist ¡ª unless they were the opposite, and therefore immune.


    While not a true match, Siel was close enough to that to not really feel the pull, and stay safely on the ground. Shean could just see her down there, far enough that they could no longer hear each other. Then even that distant shadow fell away, lost in the blinding sunlight, and before Shean could think she reached for it¡­


    She was walking down a sunlit street, wide and quiet. The newborn leaves on trees glistened wetly, motionless in the warm, still air. The dandelions dotted the lawns, bright yellow and wide open to the sun. Apart from this new growth, the city seemed unchanged from when Shean had been there last ¡ª unchanged, yet oddly empty. Where she would have expected the usual grumble of disordered but wakeful thoughts, or even the chaos of sleeping hours, she felt nothing, and found nobody.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Shean stopped.


    There was nobody she could hear.


    Did she bring it on herself by thinking of it? But she could not quite remember when that happened. Fear took over, making her shiver despite the heat. Either she had gone deaf, or they had all left. Shean walked faster, then broke into a run.


    She galloped through the streets, looking into windows, but there were only shadows inside. She tried to breathe deeper, to will her panic away, but it was not working, and she ran on.


    An old memory was rising in her mind, too worn-out to be clear. Something she¡¯d learned once ¡ª layers, there was something about layers. If she found a way into a deeper layer, she would find her way to people, and with that might come answers. But there was also danger, some danger, because she was not ¡ª not trained enough, should not, should¡­


    Should be careful. That was always the right choice. Shean stopped to listen again, straining, and this time caught something ¡ª a scratching at the edge of her consciousness, unintelligible, scrambled, as if she was picking up thoughts across great distance. She was used to tuning these things out, but now in the utter silence that surrounded her this tiny prickle of sound was the only guide she had, and she headed towards it at a gallop, hoping ¡ª listening ¡ª


    Shean did not get far before coming to a wall.


    She glared at it, exasperated, anxious. The signal, weak but distinct in direction, came from beyond the wall, she was sure; but there was no door in sight.


    Shean closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm down and think. It was only an old district wall; there would be passages through it somewhere. She would eventually come upon one or another if she followed the wall. She put her hand to it, just to be sure ¡ª in this maze of narrow, winding streets it was all too easy to lose the way ¡ª and walked along, turning with the wall as it snaked through the city.


    Abruptly the distant call came louder, and then Shean saw it ¡ª an archway, small and low, with steps leading up. She rushed to it and through, taking it in just a few leaps, certain now that there, at last, she would find others ¡ª would find someone and at last hear ¡ª she could almost make out the words, could ¡ª


    In a flash sound and thought assaulted her, and she fell to her knees on the last steps, clutching at the stone. Her head was exploding with pain, but she forced herself to look.


    Before her, just an arm¡¯s length away, was the stampede.


    They were galloping past her, all in the same direction, stumbling into each other in the smoke; their thoughts crowded her head, so shrill she could no longer hear herself, could only perceive ¡ª and what she heard filled her with dread.


    Get away! they screamed, words only half-formed, but the emotion behind them was enough to make the meaning clear. To the river! Run, run from the fire, run before death!


    And then ¡ª then the other voices came, wordless cries of those who had not been fast enough ¡ª who were dying; and Shean cried with them, petrified by the unspeakable pain the fire gave as it shrank the skin and boiled the blood, peeling the nerves raw until the heart could no longer take it, and gave out¡­


    Terror muddled her thinking, tricking her senses and rendering the world blurry, but even through this she could still make out something ¡ª something in the distance, among all those running legs; something small like a stone, but with an inner glow ¡ª and moving, oddly moving¡­


    Then something tore at her chest, and she screamed ¡ª a river had risen around her, black and freezing ¡ª or was it only rain she was screaming into, only rain that held her in its waves, the cold calming the pain¡­


    What have you done? Siel¡¯s voice broke into her consciousness, angry and terrified. Why did you bring this to us? What is the meaning of this?


    Gradually, Siel¡¯s face swam into focus, shadowy against the grey sky. In her eyes, Shean could see her own reflection.


    What? Shean thought back, trying and failing to concentrate, as her dizziness came and went. Others were thinking at her as well, but they were so loud ¡ª too loud for her to understand. The rain was seeping through her robe, making her tremble in Siel¡¯s arms. I don¡¯t know, I know nothing, what do you mean? I haven¡¯t done anything¡­


    A vision, Shean. The proclamation fell heavy as a stone, and the face of the Directress came into view. You¡¯ve had a vision.


    Oh, Shean thought weakly. That¡¯s what it was.


    The skies were growing blacker. Siel had let her go, stepping aside to make way for the Directress. The woman¡¯s hand felt cool on Shean¡¯s skin, and as she met Shean¡¯s eyes there was something ¡ª a probing, a push ¡ª but Shean was too tired to obey or listen. For a little while, she was still aware; but soon enough darkness overtook her again.


    By the time Shean came around she had been brought indoors.


    With effort, she sat up on the bed, untangling her limbs. The tall, pale walls were the same as everywhere else in the school, but the rows of empty beds around told her she was in the infirmary. Next to her Mistress Sian stood by the bedside table, mixing a drink.


    The quiet will help you recover, the Mistress thought. She was not looking at Shean, her attention all taken by the medicine she was measuring out with great care. Visions are quite taxing on the body. Now you will need much rest; it is very stressful an experience for one of your age. Take this.


    The liquid she offered Shean was clear and colorless, indistinguishable in appearance from water, but when Shean took a gulp it felt oily, and the taste made her cringe. The drink dropped heavily into her stomach and sat there, radiating coolness.


    What will this do to me? she wondered.


    It should ease your mind, the Mistress thought. Whether it will, remains to be seen. If it does not, we will try other treatments. Relax now.


    Shean tried, but the memories were floating up, clamoring for her attention, and with them came worry.


    Visions were known to be unreliable, showing only what was possible rather than certain, and few were qualified enough to be able to wring any useful truth out of them. The students were encouraged to avoid this phenomenon, to close their minds to the paths from where it might come; and Shean had followed those instructions with the rest, never doubting the reasoning behind. Yet now she knew what a vision felt like, and could not help but question.


    The city had been exactly as she remembered ¡ª not at all an alien, bewildering jumble that she¡¯d have expected of a reality far removed from her own. The people¡¯s thoughts, too, had felt real ¡ª and familiar, the overall timbre of them the exact same color as she recalled.


    She had not gone far ¡ª it was for the best, really; now that she was out of it, she remembered what it was about layers that she could not quite place. Visions had layers, and a well-trained mind could penetrate them ¡ª could, if lucky, find a grain of usefulness in an otherwise confusing picture. But for a mere student like herself it was an impossible task. No wonder she only managed to sink one step, one level down ¡ª no wonder¡­


    You¡¯ve done well to have attained even that, the Mistress thought. Yet at the same time, you should have remembered not to make the attempt. Conceit and haste, Shean. The work to overcome your flaws must never cease, not even when you are unwell.


    I understand, Shean responded.


    You have frightened the other students, the Mistress continued. Do not speak of this to them, when you return. We wish for no more turmoil.


    I apologize, Shean thought.


    The thoughts of the Mistress took on a compassionate tone.


    Don¡¯t dwell too much on it. Finish your drink, rest, and try to forget what you have seen.


    Shean held back from wording, but the feel of her mind must¡¯ve been clear enough, because the Mistress went on ¡ª


    It will be hard, I understand, yet it must be done. There is an allure to visions, an illusion of reality greater than they truly hold. You must not succumb to it. This vision will not come to pass ¡ª there are no grounds for us to believe so. Her thoughts turned slightly sour. You are not the first I have to explain this to, today.


    I am sorry, Shean repeated. I reached for it. I didn¡¯t think.


    It was a mistake, the Mistress agreed. But this experience has been punishment enough. Take it as a lesson, do not take that path again, and we shall forget this misstep. Don¡¯t stress yourself over it. Finish the drink, and rest.


    The window next to the bed on which Shean sat was half-open, and the cold air coming in felt pleasant on her burning forehead. Rain had begun outside, covering the far distance in a soft grey mist. A few drops flew in with a gust of wind, landing on her robe. As the Mistress was turning to leave, Shean remembered ¡ª


    I haven¡¯t eaten.


    Nobody has, yet, the Mistress thought irritably. Our day has been much disturbed. But we shall eat now, and I¡¯ll send some food to you.


    Shean thanked her wordlessly, and in a rustle of robes the Mistress left.


    The rain was growing stronger, and Shean watched it as she sipped the medicine, trying and failing to chase away the ghost of sunlit, smoke-filled streets. It had felt real ¡ª the pain, the dying ¡ª she had to remember it was not, and work to overcome her flaws.


    Yet at the moment Shean was too depleted to summon appropriate rancor. She stared into the rain, as it pelted the leaves ¡ª the same leaves as in the vision; small and sticky, they would not be that way for long, the spring was fleeting here¡­


    Before her meal arrived, she had fallen asleep right there, in front of an open window.


    At first, Shean mistook the persistent vocalizations for a part of her own dreamscape. But when she was shaken by the shoulder, and so roughly that one of her front legs slid off the bed, she had no choice but to wake up.


    Twice in as many nights was decidedly too much. When she pulled her eyelids open with effort and again saw Siel, anger flooded her mind.


    What do you want? she lashed out. Why are you here? Have you decided to torture me? Once was enough! I don¡¯t want to be awake, nobody wants to be awake at night! Why are you doing this?


    Slow down, Siel shot at her, grabbing at her wrist for better contact. You¡¯re in the infirmary, remember? Not surrounded by sleepers, alone. Listen to the quiet, and calm down.


    Shean glared up at her, but the words penetrated. She could sense none but Siel around, not even in the distance. Still, she was not well-rested. The moon was nearly full now, she remembered as she felt for it ¡ª and there it was, in the east, just risen.


    You could¡¯ve let me sleep, you know. Siel let her go, and Shean sat up in bed, pulling the blanket to the base of her neck. The air was cold; she could see her own breath and Siel¡¯s, coming in small puffs. The lamp Siel had brought in stood on the table, with its tiny flame burning steady behind the thick glass. What do you want that couldn¡¯t have waited until morning?


    In the weak light, Siel¡¯s eyes seemed luminous.


    I want you to look at this.


    And just like that, Shean was outside again ¡ª under the heavy grey skies, on the lawns, watching her own unconscious body being carried away. It was Siel¡¯s memory, seen through Siel¡¯s eyes ¡ª Shean recognized the slight tinge of oddness on everything, the barely perceptible shift in colors that signaled she was in another¡¯s mind. Memories could be incorrect, but Shean had been trained already to notice the signs of that; and either way, Siel was too close to her in skill level to be able to trick her. For now, this seemed real enough.


    The Mistresses stood congregated in their usual spot, deep in private conversation among themselves. Siel considered them for a moment, hesitating, then approached.


    Wordless thoughts were too fleeting and numerous to be coherently recalled, which meant Shean could not know now what Siel was thinking. It was jarring then to hear Siel¡¯s voice call out with no warning ¡ª


    What will happen to her? Will she recover?


    As one, the Mistresses turned to stare at her, the exact same impenetrable look on all of their faces. Eventually, one responded ¡ª


    That is probable.


    Will she be punished? Siel took another step towards them. She did nothing wrong. She did not stray from the path. You can see it, I remember it well.


    Indeed, that is how you recall it, the Directress assented. However, you could have missed something. You did not appear to pay much attention. She did not sound angry ¡ª she never did, there was no need to. You must do better in future.


    I apologize, Mistress. Siel looked down. Contrition did not come easily to her, and Shean was worried now she¡¯d not last, would start with the questions again. But before she could, someone interrupted ¡ª


    What of the vision?


    A group of graduates had come closer; tall, all but grown and months from being initiated, they could not be dismissed as easily.


    It was so clear, one of them thought. Horrible. This can¡¯t happen, can it?


    I have never been so afraid before, another added. I did not know such pain existed.


    Shean should not be punished, the third one stated. She carried this burden without breaking. She came back to us, found her way out. She did well.


    The Directress moved forward, breaking away from the other Mistresses, drawing all eyes to herself. The graduates took some steps back.


    She came out, because I pulled her out, the Directress thought, her voice as dispassionate as before. Her punishment is not for you to decide. Let this be a lesson to you. You have been told not to stray; now you have seen why. Return to your work, now.


    The graduates hesitated. Siel stood still, forgotten, listening.


    But what of the vision? the first girl repeated, unable to let it go. It won¡¯t happen, will it?


    How can it? another countered. Where could this fire come from? The city uses hardly any, and with all the regulations it couldn¡¯t possibly ¡ª


    If it showed up in some vision, then there must be some way ¡ª


    I think she saw something moving down below, do you remember? What was that?


    This time, none of them were ready.


    The field flickered out of existence. Shean stared into blackness, waiting for Siel¡¯s sight to return. There must have been pain, but much like Shean herself, Siel did not remember. Slowly, grass swam into view; with effort, Siel got up.


    The rain had picked up again, and she shivered. The Directress was looking at them all in turn, one by one; she did not appear changed, yet her consciousness loomed, daunting, suffocating, making any protest impossible, as her quiet words pelted them like hailstones ¡ª


    There will be no more questions. A vision is not the truth. It is not your place to scrutinize it. This is no concern of yours. You will return to your work now. You will think no more of this incident. The command came undeniable, harsh as lightning. Go.


    And just like that, it was over ¡ª the memory, the daytime, the rain; Shean was back on the bed, with Siel sitting next to her, apparently expecting her to have understood.


    Shean had not.


    I don¡¯t know why you showed this to me.


    Siel was unfazed ¡ª


    Suspicious. Odd. Doesn¡¯t add up.


    I don¡¯t see it.


    Siel radiated exasperation.


    Did you notice when, exactly, she sent out the wave of silence? What they were speaking of, just before?


    This doesn¡¯t mean anything, Shean argued. They were asking too many questions.


    So? It is not forbidden, Siel countered.


    She does not have to answer.


    She did not have to silence us all, either. Siel¡¯s mind was rushing, harried by her certainty. She has the right, yes, but how often does she use it, outside of Affirmations? And yet this time ¡ª this is what she chose, this is what she thought of, the moment they began to ask why. She knows the wave of silence cleanses the mind, that it¡¯s a distraction. She did not want us to think of the vision, did not want us to ask ¡ª


    You have thought, though, Shean noted. How did they not catch you?


    Siel shared a sequence ¡ª Shean¡¯s empty spot on the grass; a hallway; a library, a lonely table by the window. She had used Shean¡¯s absence to leave, and go study on her own.


    Mealtimes were a challenge, Siel admitted. It was hard to distract myself, to avoid thinking of it. But if I¡¯d failed, I wouldn¡¯t be here, would I? She was not entirely sure. I did not sleep, waited for the others to. I feel sorry for you now ¡ª I forgot how bad it was, to be awake when they are not¡­ I don¡¯t know how I made it out of there, it was awful, I had to wait it out before I could even move ¡ª


    Tell me why you¡¯ve come, Shean interrupted. Tell me what you want of me.


    Siel caught her wrist again and leaned in closer. Her skin felt hot, a little feverish.


    She did not want us to talk about the vision, Siel thought. Did not want us to wonder about the cause¡­ She knows something, and won¡¯t tell us. She must know the vision is true, or likely to be. She must¡¯ve recognized it. Shean could feel Siel¡¯s mind spiraling, leaping from conclusion to conclusion, convincing itself along the way. Of course she wouldn¡¯t tell us then ¡ª imagine the panic it would cause. She must be panicking, too, if she let herself overreact like this.


    You¡¯re reaching, Shean thought.


    No. Siel¡¯s breath touched her skin. I am sensing something. Something is going on. They¡¯re not telling us, but I can¡¯t just leave it be, we must do something ¡ª


    And there it was, in her mind ¡ª a sketch, a plan ¡ª the road, the village, the shadowed entrance; all there already, outlined, decided ¡ª


    No! Shock made Shean try to scramble away, but there was only a wall behind her. This is forbidden, she shot out, against the rules three times over, too risky, too much ¡ª


    I didn¡¯t ask you to come with me!


    But Shean was staring at her, and she had already seen it ¡ª for the first time this night, she was really looking, not into Siel¡¯s eyes but at her back. She was wearing a robe and a coat, ready for the outside; and across her back was draped a spare coat ¡ª not Shean¡¯s own, because that would¡¯ve taken a trip into an unknown bedroom, but the intent was clear enough.


    Siel jumped off the bed, glaring.


    So what if I wanted to ask you? I don¡¯t need you! It was the truth and it wasn¡¯t, and they both felt it, the double-edged impact of it. I can do it on my own, Siel continued more calmly. If you don¡¯t care to join me ¡ª don¡¯t care to know the truth ¡ª then I can go alone.


    Shean reached for her hand, stroked it gently to calm her down. Words came to her, but she kept them back, unwilling to hurt. Before Siel could notice it, she thought instead ¡ª


    What would it gain? So you look into the Academy¡¯s papers, find out what is happening; let¡¯s say you are right, that the vision is true, that they are hiding it. What then? What can we do that the Academy cannot? What good will it be if we know?


    If we do, we can let the others know as well, Siel thought. Then they will not be able to stop us. We are not Academy yet, so they won¡¯t tell us anything ¡ª won¡¯t ask for our help, even if they could use it. A vision is not the truth, remember? There has to be a way to prevent it, to force another outcome.


    It felt unwise, inadvisable, yet in a way indisputable, too. Shean considered it.


    It was spring, too ¡ª it has to be soon, she thought. If the Academy still hasn¡¯t done it, it might not be possible.


    The Academy is governed by the principles of the Affirmation, Siel reminded her, grimly. Defense is unnecessary. Do you believe they would abandon that, just to save one city? There are many more; it won¡¯t matter to them if this one falls. She took the spare coat and laid it next to Shean. But it will matter to us. It¡¯s home, to you as well as me. I cannot let it burn.


    There was a plate of food left on the table, sent by the Mistress as promised. It was cold now, but Shean had not eaten in over a day, and it still seemed appealing enough now that she finished it in just a few swallows, while Siel was checking the lamp. Once that was all done, Shean pulled on the coat, and together the girls crept out of the infirmary, and into the night.

 4. (part 2/3)

    It was much colder outdoors than Shean had anticipated. The grass was covered in frost, and it crackled noisily under their feet ¡ª or perhaps it only seemed that way because all else was completely quiet.


    The school buildings stood in a semicircle, each connected to the next one with a covered walkway. The opening in the circle faced east, to provide the best light possible for the morning exercises. Now the moon hung there, dimming and brightening by turns as the clouds shifted across its face. Up there, the winds were strong; down on the ground, Shean did not feel them, but on the road that could change.


    Siel had snuffed the lamp once they¡¯d stepped outside. The windows were to be curtained for the night, but it was not of great importance, and so diligence could lapse; and then if there was a slit left open somewhere, the lamplight could make its way in and wake someone. That had to be avoided. Shean and Siel both knew the grounds well enough to find their way across even in total darkness, but Shean was grateful for the moonlight, still ¡ª seeing enabled them to walk more rapidly.


    They would need to hurry. The village was close enough, but finding what they needed might take a while; and then they¡¯d have to make their way back before the school awakened, so that they could spring their newfound knowledge on others before the Mistresses had a chance to interfere. It was essential to waste as little time as possible, move as efficiently as they could.


    The buildings swam past, glimmering faintly where the moonlight touched the windows or the pipes. Shean counted as she cantered on ¡ª the main hall, the kitchens, the bathing house. The garden was next, with its short hedge and its apple trees; then, at last, the open lawns where you could run faster ¡ª faster ¡ª to the fence.


    Leaving the school without permission was forbidden, and so was leaving it at night. Neither of these, though, would seem like much of a crime next to unauthorized entry into the Academy building. The fence was low, easy to clear; Shean forced herself not to think of it, to forget what it represented. Rules were for normal, everyday life, and since she¡¯d seen the vision she knew her life was no longer normal ¡ª could not be, until it was over, prevented or true.


    She leapt over, crashed into a bush on the other side, straggled out and stood there, panting. Here, the woodland began. The firs spread out, covering the sky, cutting off most of the light, and she could not make Siel out anymore. She could still hear her, though.


    There has to be a way to stop it, Siel was thinking, over and over, clinging to the words in a hope that had little foundation to it. This side of her was pitiful and admirable both. There must be something. They¡¯re just not telling us. But we¡¯ll find it, we will. We have to.


    There was something poignant about that lonely voice in the night, the desperate feel of a mind less sure of itself than it wanted to be. Shean heard her jump, too, and stumbled onwards in the dark, feeling for the moon as she went, trying to remember which way the road would be.


    Light the lamp, Shean called. We¡¯re far enough.


    The wood was dense here, a true forest almost; navigating its undergrowth was going to be tricky, but even so it was still a shortcut ¡ª would take far less time than circling around to the road through the main gate. Siel carried the lamp in an outstretched hand, away from her body, and as it swayed its light danced around wildly, only occasionally hitting the ground. Still, it was better than nothing ¡ª it let the girls find a path between the bushes without having to break through them outright. The forest smelled wintry and bitter, the morning hint of cinder long gone. The frost glittered in the firelight like crushed amber, and above, the clouds were thinning.


    Siel and Shean walked in silence, focused on the ground, the pace ¡ª but Shean did not need Siel to say it, in order to know that she noticed, too. By the afternoon, the clouds could be completely gone; by the afternoon, sunlight could come unimpeded, just as she had seen.


    There could be even less time than they¡¯d thought.


    The road lay atop an elevated foundation, with its graveled sides steep and forbidding. Traveling up there, Shean had never realized how distant from the ground it really was.


    Let¡¯s find the steps, Siel thought. She glanced left and right, then decided on a whim. Shean followed, peering into the night, picking fallen needles off her mane as she went.


    It did not take long before they found a way up. The steps were taller than convenient, with patches of black ice here and there, but after several slips the girls did manage to climb onto the road, and stood there for a bit, getting used to it.


    The road wound through the woods, black and ribbon-sleek. In daytime, the village would be visible from here, but now all Shean could see was darkness. It was indeed windy up here, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. It did not feel quite real ¡ª the night, the woods, the road. None of it had felt fully real, ever since she had seen the vision.


    The traffic was non-existent at night. The girls galloped comfortably in the center of the road, not worrying anymore about the light or the clatter ¡ª here, there was no-one around to notice either. In the village, they would have to be cautious again, but that was a concern for later.


    After a while, the bobbing lamplight grew almost hypnotic. Shean stared at it as she ran, allowing it to lull her mind just for the moment. The moon drifted above, gaining altitude.


    As the village drew close enough to be heard, they had to slow down.


    I can feel it from here, Siel thought in revulsion. I forgot how loud they are.


    The less trained a mind was, the more noisily it dreamed. Shean could hear it, too ¡ª a distant rumble, not unlike the sea but far more grating. Instinct pushed her to stay away, but the Academy building stood just outside the village, and to get in she and Siel would have to pass very near.


    With the lamp snuffed again, the girls walked on carefully, picking their way down the sloping hillsides.


    The village lay in a valley ¡ª a small, compact settlement, and the Academy made it seem smaller still. Towering far above even the Hall, it could cover the entire village with its shadow when sunlight fell right. Now it was near-invisible, and only when Shean¡¯s eyes fully adjusted to the dark was she able to just make out its outline, traced by the moonlight.


    The houses that comprised the village were even harder to see, but the thoughts emanating from them made them easy to avoid nonetheless. Shean and Siel kept as far as they could ¡ª as much as the hilly, difficult ground allowed ¡ª but it still made for sluggish going, with the chaos of dreaming too close for comfort.


    Eyes could be shut, ears could be plugged, but minds were meant to be open, always; such was the nature of their kind, and learning to go against it ¡ª even preparing to learn ¡ª took years. Most of that was done within the Academy. Shean and Siel had only the most rudimentary knowledge of it, for now ¡ª all of it theory, as was proper for their age ¡ª and that left them vulnerable to the dreaming of others, that vortex of fragmented thought devoid of control and direction. Shean had gone through it the night before, Siel tonight when she had to sneak out after the others fell asleep; but neither experience prepared them much for this, the hum of untrained hundreds all in one place ¡ª jumbled, meaningless, pulling you in irresistibly until you drowned. Even with distance to weaken it, Shean knew she would not be able to stand it for long. She was hard pressed not to run, even though she knew it was too dangerous on this unknown ground ¡ª she would only fall, most likely, and break her legs; and broken limbs did not heal well in her kind, not in this world with its alien gravity. Still, when the village was at last behind her and its call grew quieter with distance, she was flooded with relief.


    The Academy building hung above now, covering half the sky with its bulk. The gates were held in place with magnets, and clicked open easily when Siel pushed them. The Academy property was never locked ¡ª there was no need, with the Academy able to read any mind it wished, to spot ¡ª and punish ¡ª any criminal intentions well before those could be carried out. Internal crime was common enough, though, but within the Academy the rules were different.


    Siel had been counting on that, when she had come up with her plan. For a non-member, trespassing would carry a harsh penalty, and rifling through the Academy¡¯s private documentation a harsher one still ¡ª possibly as bad as temporary deafness, if the Academy judged it fitting. Siel and Shean were students, though ¡ª uninitiated, not members yet, but they had been pledged, and a pledge could not be broken. Whatever happened, their lives now belonged to the Academy; but that meant the Academy belonged to them, too, in a way ¡ª in future, at least. Whether it would be enough to save them in the present, neither of them knew for sure, but it was at least a hope.


    Behind the gates, a short alley led to the main entrance. Shean remembered it from school visits ¡ª apple trees, they would flower soon enough, showering the ground in petals white as snow.


    White as smoke¡­ They might not flower this year, she realized ¡ª not if they burned, too. This whole land could turn to ash tomorrow ¡ª today, even, for all she knew. If only she could see why ¡ª if only she could understand¡­ The vision alone did nothing for her, only made her more fearful.


    If only she had been strong enough to go deeper¡­


    Don¡¯t think about it, she snapped at herself, seeking to convince, just as Siel had been doing before. Siel herself seemed too distracted to comment, for once. Concentrate on what you need to do.


    They needed to find the porch. It should¡¯ve been straightforward enough ¡ª it was at the end of the alley, just as you¡¯d expect ¡ª but the dark confused, and somehow they¡¯d lost their way, and had to stumble around for a while, before Siel finally walked into it.


    The burst of pain from her mind made Shean cringe, too. As soon as it faded she ran to help, but Siel was already getting up.


    Stone, she hissed, and Shean knew she was glaring at the porch despite not seeing it. Why do we build of stone? It¡¯s cumbersome, it¡¯s dangerous, if it falls on you, you die, what is the point ¡ª


    Stone doesn¡¯t burn easily, Shean reminded her.


    Right. Siel deflated a little. Do you think someone might¡¯ve heard me?


    They strained to listen, but the village sounded unchanged ¡ª sleeping, just as disturbing and yet apparently undisturbed as before. Siel went up the steps, feeling cautiously in the dark for their edges. Shean followed.


    The front door was not locked, either. Siel pulled it open just wide enough to let herself in, waited for Shean to slide through, then closed it shut.


    It was as dark as a well ¡ª as a tunnel ¡ª as the depths of the ocean, or the space between stars. It was easy to believe, for a moment, that nothing existed here ¡ª nothing but thoughts, and even they were slipping away, whittled at by the chaos of the dreaming village, stranded in the blackness, lost, forever lost¡­


    With a crack, the light came on, and Shean shut her eyes. It was still the same lamp, with its puny flame, but after a long break it seemed blinding, and it took some time before she dared to look.


    Siel was staring around, blinking at the shadows. The windows were curtained here, too. On both sides of the entrance, staircases led upwards, disappearing into the gloom, but Siel¡¯s attention was not on them.


    The library, she thought. We should start at the library.


    It did seem sensible ¡ª that was where the formal correspondence would be stored ¡ª and Shean didn¡¯t argue.


    The library lay below, in the basement, where it was easier to safeguard the books from the sun, dust and humidity. There had been other types books in their home world, Shean knew, those that the sun did not threaten, but upon coming here it had proven to be simpler to borrow the ways of the local dead civilizations and make them from trees. Both girls had visited the building on school trips, but they had never been to the library; they knew where the entrance was, though, having seen it during those same trips. It lay half-hidden behind one of the staircases, and now Siel headed there, with the light in her hand swaying again in a mesmerizing rhythm.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    This door had no lock, either. Beyond it a narrower set of steps led downwards, ending it what looked like a corridor. Shean looked around with interest as she descended, but the place was quite nondescript ¡ª pale walls just like the school, no windows and no decorations. The corridor below smelled faintly of plaster. Only when the girls reached the door did Shean finally see something worth remarking on.


    This looks so complex, she thought at Siel in wonder. How does it open?


    Has to be here somewhere, Siel responded. She had placed the lamp on the floor, and was running her fingers over the edges of the doorframe, looking for the locking mechanism. Found it!


    A slim lever lay parallel to the door frame, half-hidden by it. Siel had to use both hands to pull it all the way down. The door began its ponderous shift outwards, and Siel stepped out of the way.


    One of her legs bumped into the lamp, overturning it, and she leaned down to right it and check the flame. Because of this, Shean was the first to see.


    Even before she could process it and understand, something in her had already reacted ¡ª panicking and grieving, and knowing it was over. Siel shot up, alerted, but it was already too late. The light shone around the edges of the door, bright and incontestable; someone was inside, and there was no time to run.


    Together, they stood paralyzed with fear, watching as the door drifted open. There was no thought coming from the inside, nothing they could hear, but that could only mean they walked on the Academy members, and high-level, too. So much for outwitting the Academy; so much for saving the city. So much for their plan. It had been stupid from the start to think they could manage, to think they could pull it off ¡ª something like this was bound to happen¡­ It seemed suddenly ludicrous that neither of them had expected it, neither had been smart enough to have seen it coming.


    At least you understand that, a familiar voice called dryly from behind the door.


    Then, abruptly, the world fell to nothing.


    This time, coming to it took work. Shean was used to the effects of the wave of silence, of the Affirmation, the exercises ¡ª all of it took a toll and left her weary and altered, one way or another. But none of it compared to this. Her head reeled, her mouth was filled with blood, and before her eyes odd circles of light swam and shivered. Her eyelids were stuck together; she reached up to unglue them, and saw through a haze that her fingers came away bloody. Above the ceiling swayed, the lamps there leaving streaks across her field of vision. Shean felt around for Siel, but could not hear her.


    Fear jolted her upright.


    It was a mistake; her head split with pain, and before she knew it she overbalanced and fell, rolling off of something ¡ª an elevation ¡ª the floor hit her in side of the face, but she lurched upwards defiantly, trying to untangle her legs and stand up despite the vertigo, to get up to find Siel ¡ª


    Stop it! Nothing happened to her! Stop this, before you hurt yourself further!


    The same voice as before. Now she recognized it, and her insides twisted with horror. Of all the people to encounter here, on their rule-breaking journey, of all the possible Academy members ¡ª it had to be the Directress; worst luck imaginable. Shean had known there would be punishment, but she¡¯d thought there would be time to prepare, to brace herself, to figure out a line of defense.


    There was no time. She would have to explain it now.


    You may have a short while to compose yourself, the Directress allowed.


    Shean blinked at her surroundings, waiting for them to settle. Her brain still hurt, but her vision was slowly clearing. She was lying between two desks; she understood now she must¡¯ve fallen from one. Gingerly, she stood up.


    Whatever this place was, it could not be the library. No shelves, no books, no comfortable seats ¡ª only a few desks, and some seats in a corner. One desk away, she saw Siel laid on her back ¡ª unconscious, silent, she had smears of blood on her face, too; Shean wanted to reach out, to wipe it, but was suddenly afraid to try.


    The Directress stood in the corner by the door, still as a statue. She returned Shean¡¯s look, but said nothing.


    Shean hesitated.


    May I ask what you did to us? she began, nervously. When will she wake up?


    Soon. The Directress stepped a little closer, looking down at Siel. She lacked sleep, was weaker than you. But it shouldn¡¯t take too long. Her disconcerting gaze traveled back up to Shean again. It is the same wave of silence you are familiar with, but a more potent version. You have erred greatly. It was not a moment for lenience.


    We wanted to help, Shean ventured, without much hope. We only wanted to save the city.


    I am aware. Same as before, there was no anger in the voice of the Directress. Yet it gave you no right to defy the Academy. No right to defy me.


    A flicker of consciousness lit up nearby; they both turned to Siel.


    You may approach her, the Directress permitted.


    Shean came closer. Siel¡¯s eyes opened, but her mind was still in disarray, bewildered ¡ª


    Shean? Explain? What happened, where am I ¡ª


    There was some drying blood on her mouth; Siel lifted a hand to wipe it off, then stared at her fingers much like Shean had.


    You¡¯re on a desk. Careful, don¡¯t fall. Shean helped her to sit up, holding her by the shoulders. Siel blinked a few times, and saw the Directress. The feel of her mind snapped to freezing cold.


    Have you been lying in wait for us? There was not even a trace of reverence in her tone.


    Shean¡¯s mind lunged to interfere, but the Directress overrode her before she had a chance to word it ¡ª


    No, let her go on. She addressed Siel then, speaking in colorless, measured words. You have walked in on a meeting. There was no trap. No need, as it turned out.


    A meeting? Siel¡¯s voice was mocking. Were you discussing Shean¡¯s vision, perhaps? How to stop it, I would hope?


    The Academy¡¯s private matters are of no concern to the uninitiated.


    Is the city of any concern to the Academy? Siel snapped.


    The Directress watched her for a bit, saying nothing. Siel radiated discomfort, unable to hide it, but she did not lower her eyes. Shean reached to touch her hand, drew away when it only made things worse.


    What is the purpose of the Academy? the Directress asked at last.


    To preserve the land, Shean volunteered promptly. To educate the people. To light the path that leads away from temptation. To prevent the recurrence of the Great Crime.


    I knew it. Siel¡¯s mind was gaining speed again. So you will not stop this, because you¡¯re afraid of repeating the past? It is not the same at all! Desperation rang in her voice, and a tentative, heartbreaking hope. Fire is not a being worth protecting! It does not feel, does not think, so why can¡¯t we simply ¡ª


    You do not know of what you speak, the Directress spoke.


    Siel stared at her, stopped in her tracks.


    Enlighten me, then, she thought bitterly. Light my path away from this.


    Enlightenment cannot be demanded, the Directress replied. It must be given when it is fitting, and only then. You are not in a fit state; you are not an initiated member.


    Shean sensed it come in waves ¡ª disappointment, anger, dejection, betrayal; above all, the utter frustration of not being heard. Siel¡¯s emotions flooded Shean¡¯s mind, too loud to be shut out; yet behind it Shean knew her own thoughts, too, knew that she herself was not surprised at all.


    The Affirmation was clear enough. They should¡¯ve known. Siel had known, had said as much ¡ª yet she had still hoped, against all reason, that she could change their mind, could somehow talk them into a different choice. Yet there was no possibility of that, not with the Academy ¡ª not with the people whose minds were as impervious as granite, as distant as the stars.


    So the city will burn, Siel went on, and you will do nothing; and you won¡¯t even explain, won¡¯t even tell¡­


    The vision is not the truth, the Directress repeated baldly. It may happen, and it may not. It is not decided yet.


    But you will not prevent it.


    I will do my duty, the Directress thought, and let the events unfold as they must.


    Siel stared at her for a while in silence, but in her mind a resolve was growing.


    Fine, she shot out at last, decided. You do as you will. But I will go. She stood up and pulled Shean to her. I will tell them, we can still do something ¡ª leave the city, drench the buildings ¡ª


    You will go nowhere. The Directress stepped back, placing herself in front of the door. You are pledged to the Academy, to the school. I decide on your punishment. And I have decided you will stay here, for now. She caught their thoughts and clarified ¡ª Not in this room, but in this building. There are guest quarters above. You will be fed; it will be quite comfortable, since you are, after all, children¡­


    I don¡¯t care for that, Siel snapped. So you¡¯re imprisoning us?


    I am holding you for your own protection. With some surprise, Shean realized there was a hint of regret in the voice of the Directress, a sadness the cause of which was not quite clear. They may reach here, or they may not; but they will definitely come to the city, and you will perish if you go there.


    The inquiry rose in both the girls¡¯ minds, but Shean worded it first ¡ª


    Who are ¡®they¡¯?


    The Directress¡¯s stare had grown remote.


    Some say a parasite, she thought, some say a curse. They do not speak, and so we have no way of knowing.


    What do you think? Siel asked.


    The Directress looked at her in some surprise, as if the answer should have been obvious.


    The reckoning.


    She had never told them anything more. Shean could feel Siel¡¯s frustration as a tangy, pinching cloud, bordering on explosion yet never quite able to reach it. The Directress had held them both under her control as she¡¯d led them upstairs, but the pressure she exercised was fairly light, and only then did Shean realize how exhausted Siel must¡¯ve been for that to be enough. But Siel herself was oblivious to it, preoccupied with her own resentment. She walked behind Shean, dragging her feet ¡ª up the stairs out of the basement, then up some more and more, all the way to the top.


    This was not how Shean would¡¯ve expected to see the insides of the Academy ¡ª the parts closed to regular visitors. Once initiated, she would be allowed to come here whenever she wished, and she had dreamed of that ¡ª of being able to take any book, use any equipment she wanted, permitted to research anything she liked. At last, all those years of hard work at the school would pay off; at last, she would be free.


    That future seemed very far-off now. They¡¯d walked so swiftly that Shean had hardly seen the corridors, had no time to observe. The Directress led the girls into a room, but did not enter herself.


    There are rations in the cupboard, she informed them. I will lock you in here. Do not try to attract the attention of other members of the Academy; they have been instructed not to listen.


    Siel glared at her.


    And if ¡®they¡¯ come here, too? she jeered. Are we allowed to escape, then?


    If they come, the Directress thought, there will be nowhere left to go. Consider your conduct, then, and ponder your errors, so that if it does occur, you will be able to accept your fate and meet your end in peace. There is no more any of us can do.


    With those words, she locked the door and left. Shean listened to her footsteps disappear into the distance, fading until nothing remained but silence.


    Siel stumbled to a bed and sat on it, as abruptly as if her legs ceased working.


    What are we to do now? she thought, all her bluster gone. How am I to stop it, now?


    Shean sat next to her.


    Perhaps we are not meant to stop it, she thought, trying to soothe. She is the Academy; have you not considered that she may be right?


    It was the wrong thing to say. Siel flashed with anger, then turned away, but she did not move when Shean reached to stroke her mane. Weariness was beginning to claim Shean, too.


    It cannot be right, Siel thought. How can it be, if it means the deaths of so many? What good is the Affirmation if this is what it leads to? How is this any better than the Great Crime? I don¡¯t understand any of it. I have lived with it my whole life, and I still don¡¯t understand.


    Beyond the windows, the sky was lightening. The girls fell asleep there, on the bed, too high above the village to disturb anyone with their dreams.


    The room was pleasant enough ¡ª a long, three-windowed suite, austere in a way that reminded Shean of the school: off-white walls with no decoration, two single beds with dark coverings, and a cupboard where, indeed, the girls found boxes of rations. Hungry when she woke up, Shean chewed on one; it tasted of nothing, and it took her a while to finish it. At least that was something to pass the time.


    Sequestered up here, the girls were far enough from the villagers that they could pick up only a faint buzzing. If there were any members of the Academy passing nearby, none made themselves known. The windows were not facing the village, and all that could be seen through the windows were the forest and the road that wound through it. Further away, just behind the horizon, lay the city. On an overcast evening, its lights could be seen where they reflected off the cloud cover; but now the weather was fine, and when Shean looked into the distance, she felt sometimes as if it was not there at all ¡ª had never been, and her vision merely imagined. Yet she knew this was only wishful thinking. The trees below were growing more green, the days passed each warmer and sunnier than the last, and there could not be much time left.


    Siel was set on escaping, and looked with grim determination for any means to do so. But the lock was too complex for her to pick, the door too sturdy to break, and the blankets too small to make a rope out of them and leave through a window. Shean gave up on trying to dissuade her, and simply listened as she paced the room and her mind churned in search for a way out.


    Shean herself did not know what to think. Siel¡¯s distrust of the Academy was largely alien to her, yet the vision had sunk its claws too deep into her mind to be ignored, and she could not help yearning to get out, too, to be able to do something ¡ª anything ¡ª to stop it from happening, even though they were directly instructed to remain in place. She had always been inclined to follow others and do as she was told ¡ª because it allowed her to obey the Affirmation, and be better liked, and stay untroubled by the need to decide, all in one swoop. But now the temptation to cross the Academy and do as she herself willed had grown too strong, and for the first time Shean found herself wanting to join Siel not because of Siel¡¯s forcefulness, but as a genuine choice. Yet then she would remember the words of the Directress, the sorrow in her voice, and was cast into doubt again.


    Boredom did not help. There was nothing to do ¡ª no books, no tools, nothing to look at but the forest and the sunlight creeping across the walls. Shean stared out of the window at the birds and the squirrels, at the passers-by cantering along the road, but none of it was much of a distraction, and her thoughts kept returning to the same thing: the streets, the smoke, the screams. She could find no path to peace in this, despite her training.

 4. (part 3/3)

    At last, a few days in, Siel came up with a plan, but Shean did not share her enthusiasm.


    It won¡¯t work, she thought. This is the Academy. Anyone here can pick up on what you¡¯re thinking. You can¡¯t hide it from them.


    Not from the higher-ups, Siel countered, but the higher-ups have business to attend to, don¡¯t they? They won¡¯t come, it¡¯s undignified. They¡¯ll send some low-level nobody, yesterday¡¯s initiate, just a few years older than we are. And that we can manage. She pressed her hands to Shean¡¯s temples, in a gesture for silence. As long as you play along, too.


    There did not seem to be any point in arguing; it was clear Siel would do it regardless. Shean laid down on her bed, doing her best to think of nothing. Siel stood by the window, waiting for a passer-by to show up. Soon enough, one did, and she pushed a window open promptly. As the person looked up towards the sound, she began to signal, waving her arms about in large, expansive gestures.


    Where a mind could not reach, symbols could. Shean watched her, reading. The words came one by one ¡ª ¡®SICKNESS¡¯, ¡®CHILD¡¯, ¡®HELP¡¯. Sunlight fell directly onto Siel, making her skin glimmer with green. Shean could see the passer-by through her eyes, repeating the gestures to confirm, then, once Siel was done, galloping away into the village. An unwell child could not be ignored; someone from the Academy would be sent to check on them. Shean had no symptoms, no semblance of an illness at all, but she would not need to actually pretend. As long as the door was unlocked, the plan was simply to run, as fast as they could.


    In fairness, it was only a slim chance. Their intentions could be heard; the Academy could stop them on the way out; or they could be caught outside, before they found a vehicle to steal. That would be a crime, too, Shean knew, but it was their only hope ¡ª the only way to outrun potential pursuit.


    What they would do once they reached the city, neither was sure, but it did seem important to at least try. Once they were there, once they could tell the people ¡ª perhaps then a route might present itself.


    Steps were approaching. Siel tensed, forcing her consciousness into silence. Shean used the wall as an aid, staring at it, thinking of nothing but it, trying to render her mind as empty as that pale surface.


    The door opened, and she sensed the sudden change in Siel¡¯s mind as it deflated and bristled, faced with an unwelcome surprise. Shean shot up ¡ª and found herself staring into eyes she¡¯d never seen before, and into a mind that knew exactly what they were up to.


    Siel was looking lower, and Shean saw it through her ¡ª the decorations on the robe, the Academy status symbols; this was no low-level nobody that they¡¯d wished for, but a member standing nearly as high as their Directress. Shean had been right ¡ª it had not worked, after all ¡ª but the understanding brought her no contentment.


    Siel switched to a direct approach.


    We want to leave, she proclaimed without shame. Let us go.


    The visitor¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    You will do best to address me politely, child. There was the same blankness of mind as with the Mistresses, but the detached tone she used was absent. Whoever this person was, he was not interested in hiding his feelings at the moment.


    Siel¡¯s mind turned around, seeking for a way to placate, to influence, to get what she wanted ¡ª


    I apologize, she thought, ignoring how apparent it was that she did not mean it. You have come to our call; clearly you are a sympathetic individual. Pity our plight, then ¡ª have we not been punished enough? We have stayed here for days, forgotten, and in our isolation it¡¯s felt like years. All we ask for is to go home, and help it in its hour of need; all we wish for¡­


    Slow down, the visitor spoke, overriding her. I know why you are here; I know who locked you in. I know what you want. He looked at each in turn, radiating slight amusement. Your words cannot sway me. However, I have indeed come to let you go.


    Both girls stared at him in suspicion.


    Why? Shean ventured cautiously.


    We are departing. The building will be closed; there will be none left to watch over you. Thus, we must be rid of you. He had not closed the door, and now stepped aside, opening an escape for them. Isn¡¯t this what you wanted? Go, now.


    What of our Directress? Shean asked. Did she allow this?


    A sudden flash of anger from the visitor made her recoil ¡ª


    Her opinion is irrelevant. She holds power here no longer. You will do as I tell you. Leave.


    Shean stood up, uncertain, but Siel remained in place.


    Where are you going? she asked. To help the city?


    He allowed his exasperation to radiate ¡ª


    You¡¯re not members. This is none of your concern.


    Where are we to go? Shean asked.


    I do not care. The visitor seemed to have become bored with them, and turned to leave. School, home, wherever you please, just be gone by nightfall.


    The girls listened to his steps fade into the distance. They could sense no thinking around except for each other; but with the door open, some sounds were drifting in ¡ª rustling, pacing, occasional falls ¡ª sounds that suggested packing, now that they knew what to expect.


    They are leaving. Siel was looking at the doorway, unable to believe their luck after days of seclusion. Why do you think they¡¯d let us go? Why not take us with them, why disobey the orders?


    Does it matter? Shean asked, growing exasperated, too. Take it as it comes. The Academy will not share its reasoning with us, and we have more pressing worries than trying to understand them.


    Outside, the morning sun shone brilliantly from a sky as blue as the wildflowers down in the forest. There was no cloud in sight; no smoke, either, but that could change soon enough. Shean strode out, and after a bit of deliberation Siel followed, looking around warily.


    They were not stopped on their way out. Most doors stood ajar; the girls did not risk slowing down to watch, unwilling to attract attention, but as they passed through the corridors they did catch some glimpses of people moving within ¡ª arranging something, checking their equipment, collecting their things¡­ walking out, walking away.


    Closer to the first floor, the stairs became outright crowded.


    So many people, Siel thought, intimidated. She and Shean crept down, keeping close to the wall. The Academy members ignored them, presumably considering some schoolchildren to be unworthy of notice. So far, they had seen no familiar faces around. I know, I know, this is a hub for our entire region, but you don¡¯t get the feel of it from the lessons¡­


    They built it this large for a reason. Shean was trying to concentrate on the steps, afraid to slip on the smooth stone. A few days earlier, she had climbed it in a daze, not thinking; perhaps that was a better way to navigate this place. How do we get to the city? We need to find a ride.


    She did not need to ask if Siel still wanted to go. Behind the suspicions, the intent still shone brightly in her mind, even if muddled slightly by the fact she did not quite believed yet that they were out, that her devices for their liberation turned out to be superfluous.


    Shean had hoped that the villagers, at least, could provide some information, but once she descended low enough to hear them, their thoughts turned out to be disappointingly mundane, and revealed nothing new. The locals knew the Academy place was shutting down; but they also knew it was no use to ask questions, and treated this event as they would any other thing the Academy did ¡ª as a mysterious inevitability, much like the weather. If any of them possessed any knowledge of the vision, they were not thinking of it now. The girls walked across the main square, listening keenly, but could pick up nothing.


    They did learn of a land ferry point just outside the village, though, which did sound like a better choice than stealing. They never had a need of it before ¡ª the school had its own vehicles, employed every time students needed to be taken somewhere. It looked just like the city ferries the girls were familiar with: a long, narrow carriage, with rows of seats and rails to aid movement within. There wasn¡¯t much space assigned to each seat ¡ª barely enough for six limbs, pulled together inwards to fit them into the curve of a spine ¡ª but at least this was a means of reaching their destination.


    Once inside, they found a place in the back and huddled together. Shean watched absent-mindedly the people coming in, concentrated on obscuring her thoughts. There would be no Academy members taking the ferry, she knew, but even with just the villagers around it was best to take care.


    As the last few seats were taken and the driver prepared to pull out, she caught a heightened wave of fear from Siel.


    It can¡¯t be her. It¡¯s her. No power here, he said; more lies. That is her. She¡¯ll come for us. Siel was clutching Shean¡¯s wrist. Shean could sense the remnants of the channel between them, quivering like seaweed, ready to be re-established. The temptation to come together, to shut out the world was strong, but it would be like a beacon to the Directress. Shean followed Siel¡¯s line of sight, to check with her own eyes. The steps of the Hall were too far away to tell for sure, but the figure that stood there did wear the robe of a Mistress, did seem to have the right height¡­


    Shean slid down the seat. It would be stupid to remember to hide their thoughts, and be caught because their faces were seen. Siel had pulled her hind knees to her ears so that the folds of her robe fell around her face, casting it in shadow. The ferry lurched, then rolled on ¡ª slow at first, but gathering speed. After a while, Siel looked out again, but could see nothing but the forest.


    As she watched, several Academy carriages sped by, disappearing into the hills. The road glimmered under the sun, dark and smooth like a deep canal. The day was growing noticeably hotter. The villagers around them sat calmly, deep in their own thoughts, utterly unaware.


    The ferry could only bring them so far; it would take the girls several changes, several more waits at stops before they would reach the city. But they had at least escaped ¡ª were, at least, moving in the right direction, and Shean tried to relax.


    The forest glided past their windows, the cooler air wafting in occasionally from its shadowed insides. Shean could smell the pine needles baking in the sun, the clean scent of grass. No cinders, for now, but that meant little.


    It took the girls most of the morning to reach the city. Logically, Shean understood it had not been that long after all, yet it had felt interminable, nearly as bad as their days in confinement. Her eyes had begun to hurt from all the sunlight, but there would be no chance to rest them any time soon.


    Siel was barely managing to suppress her agitation.


    How do I tell them? she thought, and Shean was surprised to sense panic radiating from her, her confidence for once too weak to overpower it. How do I get them to believe? And what are we to do, once I tell them ¡ª where do we start?


    Let¡¯s find a large group of people. Shean shielded her eyes with a hand as she looked up at the city gates. There is a market nearby, that could be a good option.


    The city seemed untroubled, people milling about as they always did during the day ¡ª walking to or from their places of work, carrying foods, carrying children. The clatter of footsteps filled the streets, reflecting off the stone walls up into the sky. Some trees bore foliage that seemed full-grown, others were only halfway to their summer bulk. Shean stared at it all, feeling the vision rise in her mind again, blurring the line between the reality around her and the future that was coming. Yet even as she saw it, felt it, felt Siel next to her shudder at it ¡ª no-one else paid her any mind; and she remembered.


    In the city, you learned not to listen, unless addressed directly. There were too many people clustered together, too many currents of thought running at cross-purposes. Her own instincts had kicked in without her noticing, too ¡ª she had not been paying attention to them herself, had opened her ears but not her mind. No wonder they did not hear her, either. At school, watched ceaselessly by the Mistresses, you could forget how insignificant your thoughts could be, but here ¡ª here Shean could open her thoughts, with the vision clear for anyone to see, and nobody would care.


    Siel was considering it, too.


    We will have to shout, she decided, but they both knew that would come with its own set of risks. Disrupting the tranquility of citizenry was yet another crime, if a minor one. Still, it would be worth it as long as they were not stopped before they could do what they had come for ¡ª as long as no Academy members were nearby to interfere, as the Directress had done.


    Shean was the lighter of the two, and she climbed on Siel¡¯s back to check the crowds again. Whichever way she looked, though, there was no familiar uniform in sight. This was somewhat unusual, but perhaps things have changed; perhaps the city-dwelling members had been called out, the same as those that were leaving the village.


    The market was vast. Shean could see no end to it, even though she knew where the boundary actually lay. It did not seem to matter where they would begin ¡ª everywhere was full of people, and anywhere could be an audience. Still, the sight of the throng unnerved her; she jumped back down, trembling. Yet delaying would gain nothing. She could feel Siel wavering, too, taken over by fear, but despite it she was reluctant to relinquish what she¡¯d chosen as her duty, and so Shean did not offer to step in.


    A fountain was the first convenient elevation they came upon, and Siel clambered upon that. Through her eyes, Shean scanned the crowd one last time ¡ª still no Academy in sight.


    Siel concentrated.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Listen to me! she screamed, at the top of her abilities. Faces turned one by one, drawn to the disturbance like flowers to the sun. There is great trouble coming! Fragments of the vision flashed in the air, magnified, terrible. Fear came in a gust, as Siel continued ¡ª Leave, save yourselves!


    Doubt showed up fast after the fear, as it always did ¡ª as they knew it would, but it still hurt Siel that she was not credible. Shean was less troubled by it herself, and only listened as the thoughts came at her in fragments, competing ¡ª


    Mad, the girl¡¯s mad¡­


    She made it up, didn¡¯t she? It cannot happen here, stone doesn¡¯t burn¡­


    Look at that robe! She ran away from school, the rule-breaker¡­


    Call the Academy, this is their problem.


    Siel reached for Shean¡¯s hand, gripping it hard enough to hurt, drawing on her strength. Shean felt the pull through the skin, searing her joints, and tried to give in, to open herself to it; but it hurt too much, and through the pain it was hard to think. If they had been true opposites it would¡¯ve been easier, would¡¯ve been¡­


    My friend has received a vision! Siel went on, pushing to keep up the volume. The Academy is hiding it from you, but we escaped, we came to warn all ¡ª


    The Academy would do no such thing, silly child, someone interrupted.


    Visions are unreliable, another added. You can¡¯t expect us to act on some vision. It won¡¯t happen anyway¡­


    No, my great-aunt once had a vision that came true! Siel looked for the source of this voice, for the help, but the crowd blurred before her tired eyes. Sometimes they do, I have witnessed it!


    Don¡¯t be stupid, someone else came in. The city is of stone. It cannot burn.


    Who was that friend, anyway? another called. Why didn¡¯t she come?


    I have. Shean intended to call out, but her voice came out so small she could barely hear herself. She tried again, I have seen it. I am here.


    You have seen it? Now she spotted one of the speakers, but it gave her nothing ¡ª she did not know these people, the city was too large. Who are you, that you¡¯re so sure it¡¯s true? You¡¯re only a child. You cannot know.


    If the Academy did nothing, that means there was nothing to do, another voice stated. Shean had lost count, could no longer tell if this one had spoken out before or not. Stop disrupting our peace. Go away.


    Has anyone called the Academy? someone asked. Where are they?


    And in a flash, in one burst of thought that ran across the place like a flood, the tide turned.


    That¡¯s right ¡ª where are they?


    I don¡¯t see one! Where did they go?


    Only now did the people detect that something was missing ¡ª something that had always been there, or close enough to come when called; something was wrong, after all, and with that understanding the mood of the crowd flipped, fear rising to become terror in moments, as no calls were answered and the realization settled in.


    Siel was looking down on them, with a mix of jubilation and misery in her mind. She let go of Shean, now that they had been heard, but Shean could still sense her, close as they were physically.


    Well, now they know, Siel thought as she slid down off the fountain carefully, standing first on two legs, then on four. The hem of her robe brushed the water, and was dripping it onto the pavement now, but Siel did not notice. Somehow it doesn¡¯t feel like an achievement. I might feel it later, I guess. Her consciousness was hazy, all her energy spent on just the few sentences of shouting. What if it doesn¡¯t happen, now? What do you think they¡¯ll do to us?


    It will happen, Shean thought to her. Don¡¯t you remember how it looked? It¡¯s precise. It¡¯s today. I know now.


    She did know. Looking around, bending under the overwhelming unreality of it, she saw how closely it all fit ¡ª the trees, the light, the air itself were all the same, exactly what she¡¯d seen. The voices shifted all around, a dreamy landscape filled with frightened calls ¡ª


    Why aren¡¯t they coming?


    Have they left? Has anyone seen them?


    So it¡¯s true, then, and they left us to it!


    We should run, shouldn¡¯t we? We should leave¡­


    What¡¯s that?


    The sun beat down on the square, harsh, unforgiving. The fountain had grown too hot to stand next to, the artificial stone it was made of giving off as much heat as if it had been in the sun for days. Belatedly Shean registered that last question, the horror in it, and turned to look.


    The water was boiling. On the rim, about a quarter of the circle away, sat a creature from her vision, looking at her with its tiny black eyes. Shean watched it in complete disbelief, not processing ¡ª not at first. It was here, yet it could not be; it made no sense, because nothing like this could ever exist. Life came from water, she knew ¡ª all life they had ever known of was like this, both back home and here. She had not got such a clear view in the vision, where the creature was running underfoot, obscured by all the legs. She could see it better now ¡ª the tiny body, glowing with an inner fire, the eyes black as coal yet shining like diamonds¡­ And even at this distance, the heat coming from it was near-unbearable.


    The stone had begun to sizzle.


    Run!


    Time slowed, then came to a standstill, or at least so it felt. If Shean could find a way to another level, she would know how to stop it ¡ª how to prevent it, make it so it would never be. She had dreamed it, in a nightmare after being awakened in the middle of the night; it had to be born out of a diseased mind, her own brain losing its grasp on sanity that was questionable at the best of times. Siel was right about her, Siel who had said ¡ª and now Siel was pulling at her, screaming at her to move, but Shean could not.


    She had been the one with the vision, yet somehow it ended up being Siel¡¯s quest ¡ª Siel¡¯s belief that drove them on, Siel¡¯s choices that led them here, while all Shean had ever had was a formless doubt. She had never expected this, not really. Only now was she realizing she had not seen it coming, despite having literally seen. She was the one who had believed without truly believing, and now the time came to pay.


    Move away! Siel yelled in her mind, in her face, pulling her bodily aside, away from the thing and the boiling, dripping fountain; and like in a dream, Shean moved ¡ª stepped away ¡ª started to run.


    The world shifted and fell into place. Siel¡¯s hand was like a lifeline, the only reminder this was not the vision ¡ª no longer the future, but suddenly, rapidly, the present. Shean was not ready, never would be ready, but the time had run out without warning. They had come too late, after all; all they gave the city were moments that would never be enough¡­


    They only let us go when they knew we¡¯d be too late, Siel hissed to her. If we get out of here, I will never forgive ¡ª I guarantee, I will never ¡ª unimaginable ¡ª


    But the words were growing muddled; the focus had started to ebb, as the crowd mentality took over. The stampede had begun, spreading through the city like a wildfire. This was how they had run on the home world, back when there was no Affirmation yet, no Crime, no Academy ¡ª when they were not a civilization but mere prey, their sheer numbers their only defense when away from the healing shade of the woods¡­


    These instincts would not help now. All around, more creatures were emerging ¡ª from the ground, it seemed, or even the walls; the things threw themselves bravely into the path of the stampede, bringing down many with their fiery touch, before being trodden into the corpses. Whether they died there, extinguished by all of the blood, or escaped into the earth, Shean could not tell. Heads and manes surrounded her and obstructed her view, but the pictures in the minds of others were vivid enough to guide her onwards. Shrieks of pain reached her, but they were blunted, unimportant ¡ª later, later it would be time to mourn, to shiver, to weep; later, when they had run far enough, and were freed of this peril. All concern was for later.


    She would never know when she lost Siel, when their hands slipped out of each other¡¯s grasp. Thick smoke was coming from everywhere, turning the sun peach-pink. The fishy stink of the river hit Shean¡¯s nose hard; she saw the current glittering under the bridge as she galloped across. The water was steaming, and the fishes floated on top, bellies up. She was almost a graduate, had to be stronger than this panicked, mindless drive. She needed to think, and find a way out.


    On the other bank lay a maze of tiny streets, and the crowd dispersed. This could not stop the connection, but Shean felt it weakened somewhat by the distance, heard the voices grow slightly quieter, and the pull a little less potent. She drifted to one side, flattened herself against a wall, then stopped, letting people pass her by until they were all gone, without ever noticing they had left her behind.


    She sat on the ground for a while, clutching her head, waiting for the confusion to wear off.


    The sun and the moon had hardly moved, yet it felt like days had elapsed since she and Siel had come to the city ¡ª had walked into the gates, trembling at the thought of public speaking, entirely unprepared for what it would turn into. Their kind was an advanced species, or so they¡¯d thought ¡ª stampedes hardly ever happened anymore, because the crowd madness could be stopped by clear reasoning. But you needed an Academy member for that ¡ª it was they who were trained for it, they who knew what to do.


    But the Academy had left¡­


    Shean looked around. She could no longer hear the others, now that the crowd had moved on. The creatures had gone with it, leaving behind nothing but some blackened cobblestones and patches of soot on the walls. The houses here were tall enough to leave the whole street in shadow, but the heat was still hard to bear. The glow of distant fires made the sky seem pale orange. Had Siel got out, like Shean had? Or was she one of those screams Shean had heard but not registered, too taken by the collective purpose? Siel was accomplished; if Shean managed to find a way out, Siel should have, too. Shean had never understood her, not truly, even though at times she wished to. She could never decide if she even liked her; but then the opposites were often like that. Time was supposed to make sense of it, to bring them closer or apart, to grant them greater wisdom and help them learn what they truly meant to each other¡­ the time they might never have now. Still, Shean had to at least try to find her. Somewhere in the city there was Shean¡¯s own family, too, but she¡¯d been apart from them for far too long to feel invested, to care more about them than she did about any random citizen. Once the Academy claimed you, you were meant to forget; and Shean had done her best to obey. Siel was another matter.


    Uncertain of where to go, Shean walked back towards the river. She did not know these streets, but at least she remembered the general direction. What she would do once she reached it, she was not yet sure.


    It galled how little she did know, really. Now she was beginning to truly understand Siel¡¯s frustration. Why did the Academy abandon the city? Why did a member let them go, when the Directress did not wish it? Why had they never been told anything, explained anything about this happening ¡ª this event that Shean had foreseen yet failed to stop? Where did these creatures come from? What were they, and what did they want?


    Some say a parasite, some say a curse. Fire was the natural enemy to Shean¡¯s kind, something they could not stand even for moments. Every time they used it, they had to build heavy guards around it, because one tiny spark would be enough to kill. Life here was different, though; life here could survive a burn, could even heal afterwards if the damage was small enough. That was how this place was meant to be ¡ª that was its way. Her kind had never really belonged here.


    Smoke made it hard to see, hard to breathe. Shean peered into the murk, but could only make out hazy outlines of more houses and streets, more places she did not recognize. Siel would know where to go. Siel always knew what to do, even if sometimes she had to make it up as she went. A wall drifted out of the gloom; a dead-end. Shean turned around, and came face to face with the creatures.


    It should¡¯ve felt surprising, startling even, but all she felt was an odd, hollow sense of clarity.


    They were far enough away that she could try leaping over them, but as she moved to do so they spread out, lifting their tiny limbs threateningly. One was brandishing a club ¡ª a piece of wood larger than itself, burning along its entire length. The flame was almost invisible in the smoke.


    All the unanswered questions. They would remain unanswered now.


    Shean heard something hiss behind her, and whirled about only to see more creatures climbing out of crevices in the stone. It sizzled, glowing faintly in the gloom. She stared at it, feeling cold creep down her back. True stone, like at the school, would have stood it for longer, but even this imitation should have held better against the flame, unless it was hotter than she realized. But for her body it would not matter either way; she was not stone, fake or real, and would not hold at all. She knew what was about to happen. Why were they not attacking? Shean did not want to wait, was not sure she could take it.


    Still, she had to recognize that, in a way, she was less afraid than she would¡¯ve expected. She did not look forward to the pain, knowing already what it would be like from the sharing of minds that occurred during the stampede. Yet the circumstances themselves did not feel wrong. Almost as if she had known, as if she was always aware this would be how¡­


    But she had always known. Shean carried the ancestral memory within her ¡ª she¡¯d learned to ignore it, as was proper, learned to forget, as far as that was possible. But it still lay there, in her mind, etched permanently, appearing in dreams ¡ª the dark night, the white light, the red beams and black feathers¡­ and fear, so much fear. The Affirmation was only a dry reminder of what happened ¡ª only words, their power diminished by time. But the memory of the Great Crime lived on; the mistakes, committed then, forever imprinted on those who followed.


    They had left their world not only to look for a new, larger home, but also to seek another ¡ª a civilization like their own, to speak to and share knowledge, to come together with. Yet for a long while they had only found remains of peoples long dead. By the time they found one living, they were no longer capable of recognizing it, and destroyed it in their ignorance.


    Once they learned of what they had done, they broke their ties to the home world, disappearing into a self-imposed exile. Shean grew up knowing not to ask, never to question this decision, or any other for that matter. Someday, when she was an adult, a member of the Academy, then she could ask; then she could know.


    That would never happen now.


    Thoughts tumbled through her mind, lightning-fast. She was meant to learn from the mistakes of the past; each successive Affirmation hammered the idea further into her head. Well, she would learn now. The colonists erred when they had not tried to communicate ¡ª had not spoken to the locals, expecting that if their minds were silent, they had to be hiding something on purpose, and with ill intentions. But from that very experience Shean knew better, and knew that simply not hearing them meant nothing on its own. They certainly seemed aware enough, moving purposefully as they did. Perhaps this was a misunderstanding, too. If only she could talk to them¡­


    Shean had learned the spoken language ¡ª all students did, because talking to the deaf would be part of their future duties as members of the Academy. The language her kind used in their thoughts had been itself born out of that speech. There was a time when they had not needed any, before they learned to shield their minds and share only what was necessary. But once that was invented, a language became necessary ¡ª a system of symbols that could limit the expression and allow for greater control. Shean knew these symbols, knew what movements could produce the sounds she was accustomed to hearing only in her mind. But her mouth felt sour and unwieldy, half-numbed by the smoke, the lack of clean air confused her thoughts, and she could not remember¡­ but she tried, she tried, in the moments before they reached her ¡ª


    There it was. Long-forgotten teachings drifted up through the murk. She was out of practice, but it would have to do.


    The abortive croaking she produced sounded nothing like words, but at least it halted the creatures. They looked up at the first sounds, then exchanged glances with each other. Shean tried again.


    ¡®Is this¡­¡¯ A fit of coughing forced her to stop; the beings continued to eye her warily. ¡®Is this¡­ retribution?¡¯


    At first, nothing happened. The air had begun to sizzle from the heat, distorting the perspective ¡ª what little of it could still be made out in the smoke. Shean felt disheartened. This was the language of her kind; why did she assume the creatures could understand it, or any spoken language at all? Perhaps they shared minds, too, just in ways incomprehensible to her kind; or perhaps it was all pointless, and even if they understood, they would not reply ¡ª not to her, marred by the Great Crime as she was¡­


    ¡®They always speak, don¡¯t they? So silent, they are. But at the last, and given time, they do like to speak.¡¯


    Shean stared. The sizzling could be their way of laughing, she realized. The voice whistled and slithered like slipping ash, twisting the words until they were nearly unrecognizable ¡ª but what she could make out was enough.


    She made more effort.


    ¡®Is this¡­ payment? For those¡­ who were here before¡­ what we did to them?¡¯


    One of the other creatures angled its head.


    ¡®What did you do to them?¡¯


    Shean could tell it would not be long now before she lost consciousness. Perhaps it would be better if she did, if she were not there for the pain¡­ But she had to know. Her own kind had told her nothing, would tell her nothing, now; and at least these beings were willing to speak.


    ¡®We¡­ had killed them,¡¯ Shean muttered. ¡®Long ago¡­ our ancestors¡­ didn¡¯t know. Couldn¡¯t hear¡­ And now, you¡¯ve come for us¡­ like we came for them. Is that it?¡¯ She gasped from the smoke again, coughed, righted herself. ¡®The judgement?¡¯ The reckoning. Was she right? She was the Directress, she of all people should have known¡­ Yet she told us nothing, nothing.


    The beings seemed to consider it.


    ¡®Know of no judgement,¡¯ another creature said at last. ¡®No those who were before. All we know is you¡¯re filthy stomping aliens who don¡¯t belong here. And you shall be gone, because this is our land, not yours. You came uninvited, and so uninvited we¡¯ve come, too, to chase you off.¡¯


    Shean felt tired beyond measure. This was useless ¡ª this was no information at all. She wanted to sleep, wanted the smoke out of her body¡­ would not happen, now.


    ¡®What¡­ what¡¯re you waiting for?¡¯ The words she breathed out were quiet enough that she barely heard them, but the creatures understood.


    ¡®We don¡¯t want you to step on us,¡¯ one explained. ¡®But you¡¯re one of the last ones. Will you make it harder? Or can we just get it over with?¡¯


    If she and Siel had been let go earlier ¡ª if they didn¡¯t get caught in the library ¡ª if only¡­ Did the Academy leave, because there was no way for them to save the city? Or was Siel right to be suspicious, to think they would abandon it because it did not matter to them? And where was she, where was Siel, did she escape ¡ª or lie dead in one of those streets? Not her, surely not her, but¡­ One of the last ones, they said. Shean¡¯s thoughts were meandering, and it was hard to focus her eyes. Had she dreamed of this? It did feel like it had happened before, like she¡¯d always known¡­


    ¡®I won¡¯t¡­ make it hard,¡¯ she whispered.


    Then the fiery fingers touched her where her heart beat under her skin, and time ran out.

 5. (epilogue)

    Somewhere overhead the gulls were circling, exchanging loud cries. Where the buildings had stood before, now you could see all the way to the shore. The sun sparkled on the waves, and on the debris that covered what had been pavements just earlier today. The air was filled with fragrant smells of burnt wood, molten glass and charred flesh, and all was right in the world.


    The leader of the fraction climbed onto the nearest pile of stones, and was cheered.


    ¡®We have won!¡¯ he proclaimed, waving his entire body about in enthusiasm. In the sunlight, the life-fire that engulfed him was barely visible, but still under his feet the weak, pretend stone began to melt. ¡®Our fraction of the Society For Free Earth has got its well-deserved victory today, and already there is news that our fellows everywhere are meeting with the same kind of success!¡¯ The cheering intensified. Someone threw an alien limb into the air. A blistered, blackened stick, with its original color and texture long gone, it still made for a decent celebratory torch. ¡®This foreign infestation is about to be eradicated, and a new era shall soon dawn! Perhaps even today, even by this evening, even before Sundown ¡ª who knows ¡ª we may hear that it is done, that it¡¯s over, and the land is once again free¡­¡¯


    More pieces of flaming matter flew up ¡ª flesh, burning clamps of earth, even stones, dripping wet. The dancing was breaking out ¡ª the relief was too palpable, too unbelievable, and nobody could stay immune to it on this fine, long-awaited day.


    They had won. It had been a dream of their ancestors, their mothers and fathers and all who came before, for so long that it had begun to seem impossible they would ever reach it, ever find a way out, let alone rule the Earth. Shut in the depths of rock, they evolved and learnt, and had gradually come to sense the Call. What it was that called to them from above, they had not known then, but the desire to follow had grown so strong with time that at last they chose to abandon the ways of the deep, and search for a way up. And finding the way itself had not even been difficult; but little had they known then that it would turn out barred.


    That was when they had first met the invaders, and soon learned enough of their language to discover their treacherous, alien nature. The creatures were frail but inventive, and far more formidable foes than had at first seemed. It was then that the fight had commenced, the fight that had gone on until today, for all those long years. Many had perished in the freezing showers of water, or substances even more cold and treacherous; many others yet had been trapped in materials too strong even for their best flames, and died of starvation there. The people of the deep knew their right, but could not find a way to assert it; they felt the Call, but were powerless to heed it. Whatever cunning plans the people devised, the invaders thwarted them all.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Until one day, the people had found their break at last. It had seemed hopeless by then that the aliens would ever err, that the people would ever see the day come when there would be an opportunity for them to at last make their way out. But they had never given up, never betrayed the Call; and eventually that day came. From then on, all else was suddenly easy. They defeated those that tried to stop them, still. They flooded through the corridors, up and upwards, out the exits, melting the feeble doors as they ran. And then at last ¡ª at long, oh, such a long last ¡ª they saw the Sun, and understood.


    The glory of its touch, the kinship of it, caressed their flames and sang in their souls. It would be their next stop, they knew then; there they wouldgo some day, and find a superior home. Before that, they would of course need to cleanse the Earth of the alien infestation, but with the Sun in their hearts surely that could not be hard.


    It proved true soon enough.The surface world was not prepared for their coming. The machinery was too fragile, the houses too flammable, and the people ¡ª oh, those could not stand any contact with fire at all. Those watery many-limbed bodies fell at the slightest touch, and rose no more. It was almost too easy, really.


    There were many fractions, active all over the world; the deep had birthed great numbers. This city had already fallen to them,and now it was becoming all too certain that the others would follow suit if they had not yet. And then the whole of the land would at last be theirs, as it should have perhaps been all along. The crowd continued to dance and cheer, basking in the relief of their war being finally over, and in the joyous blaze of the Sun that they had so longed for.


    The gulls kept screaming, busy at their beach, unconcerned with what was happening in the city. In the far distance, beyond the fields, a forest showed like a narrow green ribbon; and on the other side the sea rolled in, and out, and in again, each time coming a little farther inland as the tide flowed in.