Anger.
Anger was what Olendris Valm felt.
Seething, overwhelming anger.
The Voskian watched, his head held high, as the Sovereign Melody crashed into the earth. As it lay, dead on the ground, like a downed goose, a sudden landmark upon the face of the plane. Those who had come with him, crawling out of the escape pod, watched with horror. One of them broke down into sobs, for her sister had been working in the engine room, and there was little chance of her survival. Another retched, vomiting into the grass, clutching his stomach and falling to his knees. Still others merely stared.
But not Valm.
No, all he felt was anger.
How dare they.
He reached into his robes, pulled free a Silverfish. One of the most advanced of its kind, beautiful and shimmering, it had been rediscovered during one of his expeditions into Alu Alay, the City of the First Men. A priceless artifact, but its practical applications overruled its historical value.
For half of it floated in the spaces between, for the First Men were eager to learn of the walls that separated the worlds, in hopes of better strengthening them, to turn them into walls in truth.
And to do that, one had to have a great understanding of them. As any great scientist should.
It was difficult to look at, this Silverfish. Valm pressed a few buttons, and even his own prodigious mind swam as the Silverfish clicked on, as parts of it flitted in and out of existence.
Until...
“Bluebell,” Valm said, “Bluebell, this is your guildmaster.”
A moment.
A second.
And then-
“Guildmaster,” Bluebell said, “What news?”
“The Sovereign Melody has been shot out of the night,” Valm said, and though his voice was stern just the mere mention made him see red.
Bluebell was quiet for a second, dumbstruck.
“My... My guildmaster,” he said, “That's...”
“I need you,” Valm said, “To signal the closest fleet in the Outer Reach. Send them here. These Mutts have crossed a line. They have enacted violence against us, and shot down our shining star.”
He took a shaking breath.
“Do this. Now.”
“O-Of course, guildmaster,” Bluebell said.
There were the sounds of shuffling. As Bluebell ran over, shouted to a few of his guildmates to get a communications array up and running.
“Guildmaster,” Bluebell said, “It appears the closest fleet is a few days from here. The Twelve-Thousandth Blessing-Upon-Blessings.”
Valm had never heard of such a fleet before.
But then, the High Federation possessed many groups, so many that some had been lost to the bureaucracy of the galactic state.
“Send for them,” Valm said, “Tell them what has happened. That the Prime Voice himself is here.”
“Of course, guildmaster,” Bluebell said, “I will let you know when they respond and are on their way here.”
“Good,” Valm said.
He hung up the line. Stowed the Silverfish away.
And, with that, he moved off.
“Guildmaster!” one of the crewmembers called out, “Where are you going?”
“Stay here!” Valm roared, “That is an order!”
And he continued on. With long strides, he made his way towards the forest, his robes billowing with the false wind, the result of plasma expulsion from the Sovereign Melody. The tree-sized dandelions blew with the wind, plucking away their seeds which drifted through the night sky.
It was a fell air.
But it would hold him aloft. Despite the fact that he was going against the wind, Valm spread his great, manta ray-like wings. He took a running start, and then jumped into the air. The wind picked him up, carried him back for a few moments, then with a few titanic flaps he pushed forward, swimming through the sky, towards the forest.
Luminary would be there.
Luminary, weakened.
Valm would break her.
***
Lord Freak's laboratory was deep within Father Mountain.
He ignored the calls and roars of war and combat above. As the natives of the plane reclaimed their home, with their Worker allies.
In truth, Lord Freak saw the writing on the wall. He was currently in the middle of packing up to get the hell out of dodge. He had made his home within a vast, natural cavern, though he had drained the small river that had run through it and had Pauldros close the indents in the stone. The stalagmites and stalactites had been shorn away. Lights lined the walls of the room, revealing desks that had been host to beakers and notes, piles upon piles of papers. Machines had been set up, Lord Freak's various autonomous implements, steamworks and crystal-powered and Fedtek. Some were used for chopping, others for injecting, one was a scavenged Neos security drone that floated around as a third eye for the Freak, connected via implant so he could see through its camera with his mind's eye.
But much of the place was packed up. The papers had been moved into bags that were larger on the inside. The experiments had been cleared away. The only machines that had not been dismantled or shut down were the violent ones. A few of them, soldier units, with arms and legs and thus able to assist him directly, moved at Lord Freak's command, for he was still relatively frail after his run-in with the Mark Eta. He had been forced to use old standby mechanical legs, and his arms were not of the best quality, though there were still a few surprises held in the wrists, the forearms, even the shoulders.
Movement. From the doorway, which Lord Freak had sealed with rock.
Rock, which shifted.
“Ahhh,” Lord Freak said, “Pauldros. How nice it is to see you.”
He turned to consider Pauldros the Stonemaker with his one-and-a-half real eyes. Pauldros was as gargantuan as ever, moving with a tectonic grace down the stairway that led into the cavern. The earth rippled with each and every step.
The sounds of combat were outside the hall. The Oshya:de were moving swiftly.
“You know, under normal circumstances, those Warriors should be trouncing them,” Lord Freak said, “Homo mirabilis is not created equal. Some just have sharpened teeth, others can move mountains.”
He smiled.
“Most of us are superior to baselines, as well. The Warriors, especially. Even with the reduced numbers, we should be defending this home easily.”
A tilt of the head.
“But we aren't. Why is that?”
“Where,” Pauldros said, “Is the Pit?”
But Lord Freak ignored this.
“You've been holing them up, haven't you?” Lord Freak said, “Covering them with stone. Leaving them trapped in the mountain. They will suffocate, before long.”
“The Pit, Freak,” Pauldros said, “Where is she?”
“Suffocation in an enclosed space,” Lord Freak said, “It could take days, if you make the room large enough.”
“I am not a monster,” Pauldros said, “They will be freed, when this is over.”
“Oh, come now, Stonemaker,” Lord Freak said, “We are all monsters. That was the cost. The price of nation.”
He turned back around, started putting more of his experiments away. A couple alembics. He left one of the potions in hand, however.
He gave the illusion of ignoring Pauldros.
The Stonemaker had flinched at the Freak's assertion. But he could not refute it.
He was a monster.
A murderer.
A butcher.
A party to genocide.
“The Pit,” Pauldros said, “What did you do with her?”
“Oh, you won't be finding her again,” Lord Freak said, “I intend to keep her. To set her free, when I leave this plane. You can join us, if you want.”
Pauldros glared at the scientist.
“What?” Lord Freak said, shrugging, “It's over. The nation of New Ludaya won't survive... all of this. Too many know the truth now. The Federation's found out about us, and they won't just send one piddly warbird next time. The skies will choke Fedtek, my friend.”
Another beaker put into the bag. By now the servants were moving deeper into the cavern, opening up a hole, a small tunnel out of the mountain.
“Better to get out with most of my skin intact. I've taken my licks from this whole endeavor. Learned a lot, too. Political science was never my strong point.”
Pauldros lifted a hand.
Squeezed it into a fist.
The hole closed up, crushing one of the servants in a squeal of metal and scraping rock.
“No one is going anywhere,” Pauldros said, “Until you give the Pit back to me.”
“And what will you do with her?” Lord Freak said, “Give her to those native dogs? Those barbarians? They'll kill her. Eat her, too. You saw them, Stonemaker, all fur hides and stone tools.”
“Fur hides and stone tools,” Pauldros said, “Is that how you justify what you did to them?”
“Oh, Stonemaker,” Lord Freak said, and his smile became wider, “I'm a former Darwinist. My justification is that it sates my curiosity.”
Pauldros stepped forward.
“I will not ask again,” he said, “The Pit. To me. So we may face our crimes. Leave, if you must. But you will not take the Pit with you.”
Lord Freak studied Pauldros for a long time. Every wrinkle on his aged face. How old, Pauldros had become, and in such short a time. Lord Freak found he could not relate.
“Well,” the Freak said, “That isn't going to happen. Too much good knowledge in her.”
With a flick of his wrist, the bottle was in his hand. Lord Freak rushed forward, just as Pauldros gestured to the stone. The ground where Lord Freak had just been erupted into spikes, but the shark-toothed metahuman was far faster than the Stonemaker realized.
He unstoppered the bottle.
And threw its contents into Pauldros's face.
And the large man let out a roar of agony as the acid began eating away at his eyes, his brow, parts of his nose.
He fell to the ground, writhing, and Lord Freak stood over him, and his face became something akin to demonic.
“Oh, Stonemaker,” he said, “You always did have a bleeding heart, didn't you?”
***
“Tell me, Professor,” Clan Mother Wá:ri said, “Is this how we die?”
The two of them were alone in the flames. A cacophony of fire, falling like meteors on a dying world, had come down with the Sovereign Melody's fall. The wildfire that now swarmed across the forest came in oranges and red and blues and greens. A kaleidoscope of death. Smoke choked the night, covered up the stars.
People screamed. Bodies – metahuman, Oshya:de, and Federation – littered the forest floor. Wá:ri and Evancar had gotten separated from the others, in this mad rush of violence and flame. On occasion, a Warrior of New Ludaya would land, start picking off anyone they could find. Oshya:de warriors, armed with plasma weaponry or simple bows and arrows, or clubs, or whatever they could find, would fall upon them.
The Professor saw the result of such scenes everywhere he looked. His heart hammered in his chest, and he knew that Izmanuzu, watching through his eyes, was hollering and laughing at the scenes played out before them.
“I...” Evancar said, and he licked dry lips, “J-Just concentrate on getting out of here.”
But by now the flames were pillaring as walls. Wherever the two turned, fire greeted them.
And now Wá:ri was starting to cough. To choke, as the myriad world closed in on them.
“Nowhere to turn,” Evancar muttered to himself, flames dancing in the reflection of his spectacles, “Nowhere to...”
At one moment it was blistering hot.
And then, the heat disappeared.
No. It coalesced. Took shape, a block of mirage that shimmered in the night. It pressed down upon a wall of flames, choking it down, suffocating it, extinguishing it. Then formed into a tunnel of warmth.
“Professor.”
Becenti's voice was frank, almost quiet, yet through the wildfire's screams, Evancar heard it.
His guildmate was standing beside Hadawa'ko. The young Warleader was holding a scavenged plasma rifle in hand, his tomahawk looped on a belt, his face ashen and set. He and Wá:ri had witnessed scenes like this, during the initial purges. At least demons were not howling this time.
“Becenti!” Evancar called out, “By god, it's good to see you.”
He had to help Wá:ri to her feet, the two of them stumbling together to safety. They moved out of the worst of the wildfire, before Becenti wheeled on them.
“Professor Morandus,” he said, “I was under the impression that you and the Clan Mother were supposed to be far away from all of this.”
“We were,” Evancar said, “But Clan Mother Wá:ri insisted.”
The old metahuman looked at the leader of Sky Clan.
“There are Sky Clan here,” she said, “I had to make sure they're okay.”
“You could have been hurt,” Becenti said, “You could still be hurt.”
“And that is alright,” Wá:ri replied, “I've been hurt before. If I die, they will just choose another Clan Mother.”
(One who is more competent, but she did not say this aloud.)
Hadawa'ko shook his head.
“You are to leave,” he said, “You and Professor Morandus both. Go north. That's where most of us are meeting.”
“Right,” Evancar said, “Come along, Clan Mother, let's-”
He made to move.
And froze.
“Myron,” he said.
His guildmate turned.
For stumbling out of the woods nearby were two figures. Luminary and Mister Meaning.
We should speak of Luminary. Haggard, haggard Luminary. The strike to destroy the Sovereign Melody's shields, as well as the answering barrage after, protecting herself and her people, as best as she could, had exhausted her. She all but tripped her way through the forest, her attendant supporting her. He had pulled a cane out for her, for the love of god. She shook. She trembled. When she looked up at Becenti, her eyes were hollow with age and loss.
And then they sharpened, beady and hateful, at the sight of Wá:ri and Hadawa'ko.
She lifted a hand.
Light peeled from the flames. From the stars.
Heat, too, as Becenti swept a hand forward, and a rippling curtain whooshed in front of them, blocking Luminary's beam of light.
“Luminary, enough!” Becenti screamed, “It's over!”
Mister Meaning was fumbling, reaching into his chest fishing around for a weapon. His face was contorted in panic. Luminary did not respond to her old friend. She simply gestured, and a serpent formed of light curled around them.
Becenti twisted a fist, and part of his curtain formed into a vise, which closed on the serpent's neck, crushing it. The light dissipated with the construct's death.
“Get them out of here!” Becenti roared to Evancar, “Go!”
Evancar and Wá:ri ran off one way, Hadawa'ko another, and Becenti gestured, unleashing a wave of heat at Luminary and Mister Meaning to occupy them. Luminary brought up a fist, and light coalesced in front of her, sharpened into a blade, which cut through the wave, which rippled on either side of the two Rulers as a gale...
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It was not enough, of course.
It was not intended to be enough.
Myron Becenti simply stood a ways from them, staring them down, his fingers twitching, slowly collecting the heat from the wildfire around him. He was in hell. Yes, he was in hell, and forced to fight his dearest friend. This was certainly the scene for it. The wildfire burned on either side, behind and in front, reaching towards the sky and scouring the earth. Screams echoed in the night. An explosion roared in the distance. Embers drifted from the trees as falling leaves.
Luminary was pulling herself to her full height now, trying to will some of that iron back into her form. Her glare at Becenti was as ice.
“Luminary,” Becenti said, “This doesn't have to end like this.”
“I believe it does,” Luminary said, “No. More than that. It has to end like this. This was the only way it could have shaken out, in hindsight.”
Her voice was flat and analytical. It was the tone she took when she was discussing philosophy. Philosophy bereft of emotion. Without curiosity. Hard and cold.
“The nation of New Ludaya has encountered its first evolution,” Luminary said, “And only two years into our history.”
“Is that all you can say,” Becenti said, “Is that all you can be?”
“Shimmer, oh my Shimmer,” Luminary said, “You see all of this, and you must be horrified.”
She brought a hand to her heart.
“I am too.”
“I... I doubt that, Luminary,” Becenti said, “I doubt that a great deal.”
“Of course you do,” Luminary said, “Of course you do, because you do not see. That is the price of nation, Myron. Shimmer. We must harden our hearts, if we are to forge a future. A world for our children.”
“Lies,” Becenti said, “I will not be party to this. I will not...”
He sucked in a sob. And his eyes were shining.
“I did not watch my friends die, my families die, I did not sacrifice so much, just to become a monster.”
“It is-”
“Unacceptable,” Becenti said, “It is unacceptable, Luminary. We will not recreate the conditions that led to the world that we live in. We must be better.”
Luminary batted her eyelids, and her frown deepened, not in anger, but in a matronly sort of disapproval.
“And who,” she said, “Is going to stop me?”
He was a little boy again. A little boy before his older sister. Confused and innocent and naive to the world.
But no more.
He shakily stepped forward.
“I will,” he said, “This hell, it ends here. It ends now.”
Luminary sighed.
She flicked a finger.
Light glowed.
Heat rippled.
And the two forces clashed.
***
The earth closed in at once, covering Pauldros and forming a dome to shield himself.
Lord Freak, at this, simply turned around, and continued packing. The Stonemaker could hear him, albeit muted, through his created sphere. The shuffling of paper. The sound of metal feet on the rock. One of the shark-toothed metahuman's mechanical servants started carving away at the stone, trying to recreate the path that Lord Freak had made.
Pain dulled Pauldros's senses. Agonizing pain. He could not see. He was aware that some of his face, most of his face, was gone. But he had not lost consciousness. He had stopped screaming, instead breathing in and out, managing as much as he could, willing himself to think. To react.
He had been in similar circumstances before.
He rested a hand against the earth. Felt vibrations.
Lord Freak was walking to and fro, seemingly ignorant of Pauldros.
The Stonemaker took a deep, shuddered breath.
Yes, he could feel him.
He could not feel the Pit anywhere. He was not a speaker of the earth, not like others. The earth merely shifted with his will. Like a muscle, and one did not speak to a muscle, they merely moved it.
And Pauldros flexed.
The floor ruptured where he sensed Lord Freak to be. Spikes erupted, poking out of the ground and stabbing upwards-
“Now, Pauldros,” he heard Lord Freak say, “Do you think me dumb?”
Pauldros froze.
Where...
Where was he?
“I suppose, by this point, you're blind,” Lord Freak said, “The acid only chews on your face for but a little while, just enough to do lasting damage, but not enough to eat into your skull and the pebble that is your brain.”
His voice was somewhere above. He was flying. Yes, Pauldros could see it now. The Freak had removed his legs, set them walking around the room as bait, while he himself continued his work. Lord Freak's game was one of distraction. He needed to delay Pauldros, enough so he could escape.
And, eventually, his vibrations would cease, and the now-blinded Stonemaker would lose him forever.
Would lose the Pit forever.
Pauldros slammed a fist into the ground.
The earth above cracked, and then started flying. Boulders and bullet-speed pebbles and shards of rock whirled around the room. He was aware, distantly, of the Freak avoiding them. Letting out gasps of shocked pain as he overestimated his own capabilities, and was dashed by the stone.
He heard something crumple on the ground, which swallowed it up like a starving catfish. It was not Lord Freak, but it was message enough.
Time to turn it up a notch.
Pauldros knew he could not go all out. By now, he knew that the Pit was not here. She was, most likely, being stored in one of Lord Freak's bags, with just enough air to keep her breathing and alive. No, he targeted the servants. Swallowed them up. Broke them apart. Speared them with rock-hewn lances, shuddered the earth and made it fall upon them as meteors.
All of the world was a hurricane of rock.
***
Becenti and Luminary traded another flow of power.
Heat and light ran up against each other. Glowing serpents, rippling walls and javelins and spears, will-o'-the-wisps that formed into arrowheads mid-flight. They ran into each other, danced and juggled, and then dissipated as the two metahumans went for other avenues of attack.
Becenti found himself moving and dodging, nonetheless. Weakened as she was, Luminary was still Luminary. Still overwhelming. Still, in her old age, nigh-unstoppable. The level of control, the intensity, the depth and potential of her ability dwarfed Becenti's by a considerable margin.
And she was crafty, too. Becenti was forced to keep a bubble of heat around him constantly, for Luminary had started flinging out spiked constructs, concealing them to near-invisibility. The fingers on his left hand twitched as ribbons whirled out from them, covering the ground like mycelium, connected to the nerves in his hand to feel and find.
To detect.
He kept up his attack, nonetheless. The advantage of a wildfire is he was never for want for ammo. Heat rippled throughout the world around him, and he threw pillars and waves at Luminary.
Mister Meaning was caught in the crossfire. He moved off into the trees, disappearing, unable to match the sheer level of power that the two demonstrated.
They stopped, at one point, both of them panting, wiped and on their last legs. Becenti felt his joints crying to give out, that old pain in his knee was coming back. Luminary's hands were shaking, and it was not from fear, but rather from her arthritis.
They were too old to be playing this sort of game.
Old folks, in a young person's war.
And then the eldest of them descended.
He struck Luminary first. A quick crack upon the head with a gnarled fist, before Olendris Valm, in a whirl of manta-ray wings and white cloth, bodily threw Luminary through the forest. She cracked against the trunk of a tree, sliding down, her eyes wide in shock.
Becenti took a step back.
The Prime Voice, in all of his splendor. Tall and imposing, tower-like, his wings flapping the heatwave air and whipping up gales of leaves and embers. He was frowning, and at the sight of the metahuman his globe eyes narrowed.
“Shimmer,” he said, “I expected you to keep your people in check.”
And he whirled forward, faster than Becenti could react, before he could even think of raising a hand in defense. A flutter of smooth, naked wings, and Valm was upon him.
Voskians are much stronger than the average sapient. Naturally so, they were on par with a gorilla, despite the seeming frailty of the form. And Valm used the techniques of Evok'shu, the pre-eminent martial arts practiced by the upper echelons of his species. His fist was the practiced fist, the slam into Becenti's stomach sending him into the air almost perfectly, so that the other hand could curl around the metahuman's throat and slam him into the ground.
“I should have known better,” Valm said, and still his voice was deep and smooth, though there was a thunderous anger in the back of his throat, bubbling, “I should have known better to trust a sheep to lead its flock.”
Becenti's hands closed around Valm's thin wrist, trying to pry those cold, slender fingers from his neck.
Prime Voice be damned, he had to defend himself. He willed the heat from around them into a spear, gesturing an arm sideways-
Valm noticed.
Valm lifted Becenti into the air, in the path of his construct.
Which whispered away, the heat rippling from the two of them, lest they burn the metahuman, too.
“Oh, no, Shimmer,” Valm said, “None of your tricks.”
He tilted his head.
“I should kill you now,” he said, “One more body on one more backwater plane. Your guild would have questions, but then, I am of a guild as well, am I not?”
And now, only now, only after everything, after the destruction of his warbird, did Valm smile. Cold and heartless and far too cruel.
“The cost of doing business,” he said.
The torrent of light was not caustic, nor burning, nor sharpened. It was a dull wave, washing over the Voskian, pushing him forward with enough force that he dropped Becenti, who crumpled to the ground.
Luminary, despite everything, stood, stooped like a vulture, stockily willed herself forward, step by shaky step. She coughed, both from internal injury and from the choking smoke.
“Gene bitch,” Valm said.
And his eyes widened, and he dodged away, as Luminary sent her power towards him. This time, she was able to, just barely, form constructs, daggers of light that scream-sang as they pierced at Valm, who dodged them, flying higher and higher into the sky.
For a moment, she saw him, a blight against the moon.
And then he darted downwards towards her-
Only for something to shoot him. A globule of plasma caught one of his wings, and his straight dive spiraled.
“Hadawa'ko,” Becenti said.
The Oshya:de was still somewhere in the trees. For a moment, Becenti saw him, the young Warleader's eyes ablaze with more than fire.
Valm landed. He gave no indication of feeling any great pain as he inspected his wing. A solid hole through the membrane. He would need healing, if he was going to fly again.
Luminary stumbled after him. She gestured, and a carpet of light billowed beneath her, picking her up.
She went after Valm.
Hadawa'ko ran to Becenti’s side.
“This is no place to die, Myron Becenti,” the Warleader said, “Get up.”
The old man took the younger's proffered hand.
“Valm is here,” Hadawa'ko said, “He survived.”
“Yes, he did,” Becenti said, and he took a deep, shaking breath, “I... suppose I shouldn't be surprised.”
“We can change that,” Hadawa'ko said, and he smiled a horrid smile.
Becenti looked aghast.
“What?” Hadawa'ko said, “They are glassing our home anyways, are they not? More of you outsiders will come. With your wars and Federations. We might as well bite back.”
“They'll do more than glass this place if you kill him,” Becenti said, “There's worse than death. They may decide to keep you alive.”
He looked at Hadawa'ko with a hard look.
“You do not want to be in the clutches of the Federation, Hadawa'ko.”
“You speak from experience?” the Warleader asked.
Becenti simply nodded.
And a bit of the fire died. Hadawa'ko took a hard look around him. At the wildfire just barely kept at bay by the old man's powers. The further destruction of his home and people.
How many Oshya:de had died, just on this night alone?
How many were even left?
How many would suffer, if he did this? He had heard what Valm had said. Ten people, in total, to be taken to another place. The rest exterminated. But there was a look in Becenti's eye that said that this was nothing personal. This was the Federation at its base form. Cruelty without reason.
But cruelty with reason...
“Very well,” Hadawa'ko said, “We... We don't kill him. But I don’t know what we can do.”
Becenti sighed.
“We...” he swallowed from a dry throat, “We... we go for Luminary. She's still powerful enough to dissuade Valm, I think. Then we finish her off. The Sovereign Melody is gone, but there will be others. But at least we will have breathing room.”
He looked on the verge of tears.
Hadawa'ko narrowed his eyes.
“You still do not want to do this,” he said.
“Would you kill your sister, Hadawa'ko?” Becenti said.
He let the statement hang in the air, for he trudged forward. Aching, broken, both physically and emotionally. For now the chance to breathe was also the chance for emotions to catch up to him.
The full weight of what Myron Becenti was doing this night caught up to him.
He almost stumbled as it overtook him.
***
And, at last, a blow struck Lord Freak in the side of the head. Another struck his side, still more carried him into the wall, a metal and flesh reverb that perked Pauldros's head up. The earth swallowed up the Freak as he fell to the ground, the earth beneath Pauldros's feet shifting into a tunnel that moved his adversary forward until he was directly beneath him.
Pauldros opened up just a slight hole, to let the former Seat of Science breathe.
Lord Freak squirmed.
Pauldros brought up a fist, and rocketed it into his face. He broke something in the Freak's mouth.
He could not see the red froth dribbling down Lord Freak's mouth. How his remaining teeth stained crimson, as though he had just torn an animal to pieces with his jaws alone.
“E-Enough!” Lord Freak coughed, “Pauldros, stop, stop-”
Pauldros raised up his fist again.
Brought it down.
This blow splintered the man's nose. Pushed it inwards, crumpled cartilage and all. Lord Freak let out a gagged scream of pain, tears streaming down his face.
“STOP!” Lord Freak said, “Pauldros, please, I don't- I don't want to die, I don't, please, I-”
“We are all monsters, aren't we?” Pauldros said, “Aren't we?”
A third blow.
A fourth.
A fifth.
Over and over, a practiced repetition. Pauldros had beaten another man to death but once before, long ago, when he was younger, but with the same naivety to the world. It was in the famine years of Daren, and his sisters, still alive then, were on the brink of starvation. He had found a man with an extra share of rations, and fought him for it. Wrestled him down, for even then Pauldros was a large man. Fists flying, earth trembling, he beat the man down, and kept going. The worth of one person's life was a sack of grain.
Lord Freak was mewling when Pauldros, blind yet still seeing red, came to his senses. He had not been screaming. Had not done anything but swing his fist downward. He leaned down to Lord Freak.
“The Pit, Freak,” he said, “And you may go.”
Lord Freak, crying, red snot bubbling from a smashed-up nose, let out a choke in response.
“The...” Lord Freak's voice was a rasp, “Second servant to the right. Holds her in a bag.”
“And the antidote?” Pauldros said.
“In... In my sleeve.”
“You will give it,” Pauldros said, “It must be the right one. If it is not, god willing, you will not leave this mountain.”
Lord Freak let out a gasp in agreement.
The stone dome fell away. Lord Freak was lifted up and out of the floor. Pauldros heard him gingerly reach down, retrieve the vial from his sleeve.
A braver man would have had more tricks.
But Pauldros did not see the fearful look in Lord Freak's still-working eye. Did not see just how brutally he had mashed up the former Founder's face.
One of the servants approached, and opened the bag. The Stonemaker heard the sound of breathing. The smell of brimstone. Yes, the Pit was before him now. That was all that mattered. He didn’t even notice Lord Freak scamper off into the shadows.
With a bloodied hand, he reached down, took one of his lover's thin arms, injected the antidote.
For a moment, silence.
And then, she coughed. Spluttered. Wheezed and cursed. When she opened her eyes, she beheld Pauldros the Stonemaker.
The upper half of his face was gone. Melted. He was bent over himself. His right hand was caked in gore and metal and a bit of a tooth was embedded in the space between his index and middle finger.
The Pit's eyes widened.
“My love,” she said, “What have you done?”
***
A braver man would have fought back.
But Mister Meaning was not a brave man. A cunning man. A smart man.
But not brave.
He sat, transfixed, behind a tree, shaking and hyperventilating, the fire burning around him, as he hid from the Prime Voice of the High Federation.
Olendris Valm was pushing his way through the burning brush, an unimpressed look on his face as he approached Luminary. The old crone stood alone, hunched over and witch-like, light weaving around her as ribbons. Her face was defiant.
There were no words traded between the two.
Only hatred.
Valm struck first. Mister Meaning, turned, watched, as the Prime Voice flung himself at his Founder, as Luminary brought up a hand, and erected a glowing wall between the two of them.
It was not a testament to Valm's strength, but rather of Luminary's weakened state, that the wall cracked beneath the Voskian's fist. It splintered, shattered, and Valm’s fist kept going.
Luminary, however, had foreseen this. The shards of her construct stopped midair, and as Valm's blow cracked the side of her head, they whirled as daggers into his form. They struck his shoulders, his arms, one even grazed the side of his long neck. He dived back, grimacing, blood splattering his body-
And Luminary twisted.
Collected as much light as she could. From the fire. From the stars. From the light of the moon. From the glitter in her eyes. The vestiges of light-wielding metahumans. The scream of plasma.
All of the world's light.
The fist and arm was the size of a train. Luminary threw it at Valm.
It collided with him. Sent him flying, heads over heels, through the air as though flying. He sailed past Becenti and Hadawa'ko, cracked against a few trees, broke the trunks completely in a spray of lightless embers.
He hit the ground.
Was alive.
But was still.
And Luminary slumped over. Dragged herself over to a nearby tree.
…
…
And the Oshya:de drew forth.
Rifle in hand. Anger in his eyes.
But he was not here for Luminary. Hadawa'ko had, in something between mercy and cruelty, allowed Becenti the job of eliminating her. No, the Warleader stood before Mister Meaning, who was still wrapped up behind the tree.
“On your feet,” the Warleader said.
Mister Meaning looked at him.
“It's over,” Hadawa'ko said, “Get up. Put your hands in the air.”
“Don't kill me,” Mister Meaning said, all elegance gone, “Please, don't kill me. I'll do anything, just don't-”
“You will not die here,” Hadawa'ko said, and there was rage in his voice, “Despite everything. I remember you. The man who had a door in his chest. Your words like honey. You didn't kill my people.”
He leveled the rifle.
“You merely watched. And smiled. For that, I will not kill you here. Now, on your feet.”
Mister Meaning rose. Raised his hands in the air.
A defeated man, and he had not even been struck.
A ways away, Hadawa'ko saw the form of Valm. The Prime Voice. Guildmaster of Pagan Chorus.
Unconscious. Injured. Vulnerable.
And an idea came to Hadawa'ko. The Warleader.
What could be won, with him a prisoner.
…
…
Myron Becenti stood before the crumpled form of Luminary.
Smoke clouded the world, the fire raged, but did not bother them, for the old man had erected walls to protect himself and Hadawa'ko. The Warleader was collecting Meaning, as well as the fallen form of Olendris Valm. Both of them would be kept alive, for the dialogues to come.
But not Luminary. She was too dangerous.
The Founder of New Ludaya's justice would come from her brother's hand.
She looked up at him through hazy eyes. Valm had broken something in her, during their battle. She should have died standing, Becenti thought. She should have died triumphant. Not like this, not like every other old thing, decayed and discarded.
“Myron?” she said, “Myron, is that you?”
“It is, Luminary,” Becenti said.
“What's going on, Myron?” Luminary said, and she sounded confused, “Did we... Did we win?”
Becenti sighed. Fought back a tide of emotions.
“No, Luminary,” he said, “You did not.”
“Oh,” Luminary said, “Oh... Oh dear...”
She was quiet. And then, her eyes widened, as though remembering that, for perhaps the first time in her life, Becenti was against her.
“I see,” she said, “I'm... This is it, isn't it, Myron.”
“You're... too dangerous to be left alive,” Becenti said, “There's no way to control you. Not with your powers. And... even if we could.”
He glanced over at Hadawa'ko. At Mister Meaning and Valm, the former sobbing, the latter unconscious.
“The Warleader insisted,” Becenti said, “You must die tonight, Luminary. Justice will come in other forms, for the others. But the woman in white must be removed completely.”
“No trial,” Luminary said, “No jury.”
“No.”
“So uncivilized,” Luminary said.
Becenti sighed. He knelt down to meet her face. She wouldn't hurt him, not anymore. The spirit of defiance had left her completely.
“If...” Luminary said, “If I had found a place for us, Shim, a true place, without history and without murder, would you have stayed? Fought by my side?”
“I would have died for you, Luminary.”
Luminary gave a sad smile.
“Don't sacrifice your life so, Shimmer. We have too many martyrs, and not enough... good people. Symbols can only go so far, and say so much.”
He did not respond to this.
Instead, he brought a hand to her forehead.
“Shimmer,” she said, “What are you doing?”
“I'm moving the heat out of your body,” he said, “You will die cold, Luminary.”
She frowned. Closed her eyes. Already she could feel it, the heat leaving her extremities, despite the firestorm.
“...You haven't pulled this trick for a long time, Shimmer,” she said.
“Not since the war.”
“You did it as an execution,” Luminary said.
“I did it as a mercy.”
She laughed, hard and hollow.
“You call this... mercy?”
And Becenti, Shimmer, nodded.
“It is quick. It is quiet. It is painful for only a second,” and his voice cracked, “It is... It is... as merciful as I can be, in a world such as ours.”
Luminary opened her mouth to reply, but by now she felt like she was in a frozen wasteland. She did not feel the flames, did not see her Shimmer, but instead saw something cold ahead of her.
“I...”
But whatever she was going to say was lost.
So passed the Luminary, frozen to death in a wildfire.
Becenti held her slumped-over body. Bereft of life, it was a little thing. Like a bird's, all frail, with hollow bones. Becenti looked down at her for a long time.
He started to break down, his whole body shaking.
Hadawa'ko looked away.
As brother mourned sister.
And this part, at least, was over.