Cale rose with the sun that morning. The night had been comfortably cool, and he fell asleep with ease, even with the voices of Terra, Ryan and Nalya outside the tent. When he awoke and emerged from his tent to relieve himself, he was surprised to see Bayne was already up, sorting through some of the items in his pack.
He gave Cale a nod while he wandered into the bush to relieve himself. When he returned, Bayne had laid out several strips of dried meat on a rock.
“What’s that?” Cale inquired.
Bayne looked at him quizzically. “D’ya not break fast in your Ladysmith?”
“No, I mean– well, we do. I’m just wondering what that is.”
“Cave Jag,” he responded. “Camp cook prepared it a few days ago. Perfect for long journeys. It’ll give you energy to march until midday.” He glanced over at the line of quads surrounding their camp site. “If we were marching, that is.” He absently rubbed his lower back.
“The quads take some getting used to, don’t they?”
“Aye,” he replied. “That they do.” He maintained an aura of silence for a moment before continuing. “Noisy bastards. The growl of these beasts announces us to the whole of the Disputed Lands. I expect every critter between here and the Spine can hear us. Might scare most away, but the hungry ones I’m not sure about.” He passed Cale a strip of meat.
The meat was light-coloured, salted, but seemed edible. “What’s a Cave Jag?” he asked.
“Nasty beasts,” he said. “Would sooner eat you than look at you. Half the height of a horse. Claws that’ll tear your belly open and two giant, sharp teeth jutting out from their mouths to eat your guts while you’re still taking your last breath. Agile bastards, too. You have to be quick to hunt them, and they’re almost always hunting you back.”
“Wait, like a giant cat?”
“Aye. Cave Jags are everywhere around these parts. But they don’t like smoke too much. Avoid fire. They like their dens cool and damp.”
“So they’re jaguars?”
Bayne raised an eyebrow. “No, they’re Cave Jags,” he said. “Jaguars are smaller. Still dangerous little beasties, but you’d need three to match one Cave Jag.”
“And they’ll hunt humans?”
Bayne nodded. “They’ll hunt anything they can eat. But as long as you’re wise to them, they’re no danger. Besides, we’re on the edge of the Featherclaw hunting grounds. Even Cave Jags know to avoid the Featherclaw.”
Cale had honestly been surprised to see a raccoon the previous night. He’d half expected that the wilderness would be full of entirely alien animal life, but most of what he’d seen so far was commonplace on Earth. Even the cave jags, being some sort of species of giant cat, didn’t seem that alien. But then there were the wyverns, which completely threw him off. Giant, winged lizard-like animals and…
“Featherclaw?” Cale asked. He was pretty sure he’d heard the word the night before, but had been busy jotting notes down in his log book to pay full attention.
“Aye,” Bayne said. “The Featherclaw usually don’t bother with men, but they’re an unpredictable sort. They offend easily if you’re not careful with your words. Some of them understand the common tongue. Best not to stoke the ire of their kind. Even a young Featherclaw can kill a man with little effort.”
“Hold on,” Cale said. “I get the impression you’re not speaking about humans.”
Bayne raised a confused eyebrow. “Of course not. I’m talking about Featherclaw. D’ya not have them in your world?”
“Well, I won’t know unless I’ve seen them, but… you’re saying they can speak english?”
“Nae, I said some can speak the common tongue.”
Cale had never really considered the possibility of their being an intelligent species of anything other than humans in the Pactlands, and he found the realisation to be somewhat unsettling. “On Earth, we… well we have some types of bird that can mimic human speech. Some apes have learned to use sign language, but there’s nothing else that’s really capable of speech.”
“Truly?” Bayne raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a paradise.”
“So wait, hold on. There are intelligent species here other than humans?”
“Not sure I’d call them intelligent,” Bayne said. “They’re hardly civilised. The Featherclaw live in huts made of twigs and mud. The Tyl are thieving little bastards. El’Dar are formidable, but keep to the foothills of the Spine. Then there are the Binar, the Nymphus, the Grij. Most stay out of human affairs, and few are found outside of the Disputed Lands.”
Six. There were six other types of intelligent species in the Pactlands. The very thought echoed in his brain.
“What are the Featherclaw like?”
“Bah,” Bayne said. “They’re a hunting people. They have their rituals, keep to themselves. As long as we’re polite with them, don’t hunt in their lands, they’ll keep to themselves. Mind you, we’d never know they were there unless they wanted us to know.”
“But you said they’re dangerous.”
“No, I said they can tear a grown man to shreds, and I meant that. But only if you give ‘em reason to. I’d be much more fearful of El’Dar or Grij. El’Dar hate men, and Grij hate everyone. We stay clear of the foothills of the Spine, we’ll not have to worry about El’Dar. And the closest Grij is across the sea in Caede. They stay in their forest, which is fine by me. A Grij catches you, you’re in for a slow and painful death while you’re digested alive, and no amount of reason or bribery will change that.”
“What about the others?”
“The Tyl have colonies all through the Pactlands. Little rodents are a pest. A nuisance, but not dangerous. They’ll steal yer food, yer coin, live in yer cellars, but they’re wee cowards and run and hide at the first sign of danger. Binar are also everywhere. They’re mostly harmless. They’ll even work for men in exchange for food and a dry roost. Great black birds, always found in pairs. They usually find work with the Swift, or the Street Sirens as messengers because they can fly, but they’re hard to trust and have no ability to hold their tongues. The Nymphus look most like men. Stories go that on a cloudy day, ye’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference. Legends say that once they were men, but took to the seas and lakes long ago, and live beneath the surface away from us. They only emerge out of curiosity, but you’ll likely go your entire life without ever seeing one. Some think they’ve been extinct since the Signing of the Pact, but nobody’s really sure.”
“So what do these Featherclaw look like?”
Bayne stroked his beard in thought for a moment. “Waist-high little beasts,” he said. “With long, toothy snouts. Long necks. Sharp, unforgiving claws and teeth. Covered in colourful feathers like a Vectoran jungle bird, but don’t have wings. They can run like the wind, jump higher and farther than any beast I’ve seen. There are three tribes we know of in the Disputed Lands, but they also inhabit areas of Vector and Rasza.” He paused for a moment and watched Cale’s expression, then laughed. “Ye don’t have to worry unless ye offend them, lad. Even so, they have a strict code. They don’t hunt men, they won’t eat men. Or any of the other speaking races, for that matter.”
Cale shook his head. He might not have been so surprised to hear that in a world with wyverns, there were races like elves or dwarves. But so many of the beings Bayne spoke of seemed not human at all.
The telltale sound of zipper being undone turned his attention to a nearby tent. A bleary-eyed Ryan emerged, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.
“Morning,” Cale said.
“Is it?” Ryan asked. “I couldn’t tell. That planet-moon thing is bright enough sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between that and the sun.”
“Aye,” Bayne said. “The High Dream guides night travellers. But at low dream, you can’t see your hand in front of your face if not for the starlight.”
“I’ve been wondering about that, too,” Cale asked. “Does anyone know what’s up there?”
Bayne cocked his head to one side. “I don’t get yer meaning.”
“Like, it’s clearly got an ocean. The landmasses look like it’s covered in vegetation. There’s life there. Has anyone ever gone there?”
Bayne broke out laughing. “Gone there? To the sky? It’s higher up than even the birds can fly.”
“Ah,” Cale said. “Right.”
“Yeah, I guess we’re a long way from a functional space shuttle program,” Ryan added.
“Space shuttle program?” Bayne asked.
“Back on Earth we have the Moon,” Cale explained. “Sort of like the Azure Dream, except it’s a big rock. Barren. No liquid water, no clouds. No life. About fifty-sixty years ago we visited it. Haven’t been back since.”
“That we know of,” Ryan added.
Bayne laughed. “You lot went into the sky? Ye must’ve sprained your arms flapping them so hard!”
“No, we used rockets,” Cale said. “Think of them like… long tubes that spat fire out of the bottom so hard it propelled it up into space. Astronauts would ride in them. When we get back to Ladysmith, I could show you some pictures.”
“I know yer people are capable of wonders,” Bayne said. “But to visit the sky? It’s impossible. The Dream isn’t a place we can go. The old stories said it was the realm of the gods. But the gods are dead, and so is their realm. Men could never fly as birds do, let alone these… rockets of yours.”
“No, he’s serious,” Ryan said. “We fly all the time. Hell, there’s an airport in Ladysmith too. We have planes, helicopters. Flying machines. They can’t get us up that high, but the sky’s not off-limits to us.”
“This jest is growing old,” Bayne warned, pointing a small knife in Ryan’s direction. “How could a machine fly? Don’t take Bayne Dalon for a fool.”
Cale decided to change the subject. “You said the gods are all dead. What do you mean by that?”
“Bah,” Bayne said. “They’ve been silent since before the Pact was signed. Even before that, they lost interest in the affairs of man. It’s said in the times before the Eventine Wars, the gods walked among us. They guided us. Protected us. Then the Void came. Some say that’s when they abandoned us, but the Eye of All says they died.”
“The Eye of All?”
“Abram’s God,” he said. “The highest of powers. That which guides the hands of men, that judges us worthy of entering the Great Well. The Creator of the Latticework. The One who gave us the Sun. Who gave laws to the world.”
“Sounds like God,” Cale commented.
“Some say the Eye of All is the King of gods,” Bayne corrected. “Others say it is a force. The governing force of all we know. The thing that keeps all things in order. The Eye of All watches over us all, judges, and deems some worthy of eternal life, and the rest he turns to salt. The Eye of All guides us in our dreams, and punishes those who hate the world of life.”
Ryan and Cale looked to each other knowingly.
“What?” Bayne asked.
“It just sounds familiar,” Ryan said. “Abram’s God. We have this concept back on Earth– hell, probably half the people in Ladysmith believe in the God of Abraham. There’s a story about how he turned people into pillars of salt.”
“That’s a little too on-the-nose to be coincidence,” Cale said.
“No surprise to me,” Bayne said. “It makes sense that the Creator of the Latticework would be known to your people.”
“The Latticework?”
Bayne remained silent in thought for a moment. “Deer eat the grass and are fed. Cave jags eat the deer and are fed. The cave jag dies and the grass is fed. Snow falls in the mountains in the winter and in the springtime melts to feed the rivers that we drink from. In the summer, the Sun drinks all the water, and in the fall it forms the very clouds which drop the snow. The Azure Dream encircles Eiden, never falling from its point in the sky. These forces and laws we call the Latticework.”
“The laws of nature,” Cale added.
“Aye,” Bayne said. “The laws of nature.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Terra suddenly asked as she emerged from her tent.
“Life, the Universe and Everything,” Ryan said.
“Sounds like religion.” She walked up toward the fire. “Nalya not awake yet?”
“I should wake her,” Bayne said. “Come, have some cave jag.” He gestured toward the strips of meat on the rock next to him.
“Cave jag?” Terra asked.
“You probably don’t want to know,” Cale replied.
With a shrug, Terra picked up a strip and smelled it. She took an experimental bite.
“Tastes like cougar,” she commented.
----------------------------------------
The sun rose into a cloudless sky over Ladysmith that morning, but Keltz paid it no mind. He had more important things to worry about, and even that far south of Halen, the summer sun wasn’t too bad. Upon his return to town the night before, Goose Payne, who acted as something of a Baron in Ladysmith, had asked him to attend to a place called Aggie Hall with Lieutenant Syrel, stating at the meetings of the so-called Emergency Committee were being moved there to allow for greater space. The problem was, he hadn’t the faintest idea where Aggie Hall was.
Thankfully, he spied Sergeant Boone talking with another member of the Emergency Committee he had recognized. He believed her to be named Carla, but he wasn’t confident about the name. The two stood near the edge of the school field, and appeared to be in the midst of a highly animated dispute with one another. As Keltz approached, Carla broke off and stomped over toward the main building at the edge of the field.
“Is something wrong?” Keltz inquired as he approached Boone.
Boone looked over and shook his head sharply. “It's nothing. Let’s just say that woman's not happy unless she's making money.”
Keltz shrugged. “Lieutenant Syrel and I must go to Aggie Hall, but I confess I don't know where it is. I had hoped you could direct me before I fetch him to meet with the Committee.”
“Yeah,” Boone said. “It’s down at First Avenue and Symonds. Go up about two, three blocks on Sixth, then follow the hill down to the roundabout.” He paused. “Actually, I can give you two a ride down. I need a few moments of your time, and I think I should include Syrel in this as well.”
Keltz nodded. “That would be acceptable,” he said.
“All right, then go get Syrel, 'cause we should leave now,” he said.
Keltz nodded, then ran off to fetch Syrel. He found the older man berating a group of soldiers who had taken to the task of playing target practice with the metal siding of a building near the school. In the process, they had inadvertently broken a window. The two of them walked back to where Boone was waiting in the nearby parking lot, and climbed into his vehicle.
It was Lieutenant Syrel’s first time in a car, and his apprehension was apparent. As the vehicle started to move, he grasped onto whatever he could, uncertain of the vehicle.
“We need to discuss a few things,” Boone said. “We're still in the process of setting up our militia here, but we've got about a hundred fifty volunteers so far. Mostly kids, mind you, and the closest they've been to real action is in the movie theatre.”
Keltz was about to ask him to explain what a movie theatre was, but he decided it was unimportant. He imagined he would find out soon enough.
“What I want to know is if I can rely on you guys to help us train these kids,” Boone asked. “If we can hook them up with you guys to teach 'em the ropes.”
“What kind of training did you have in mind?” Syrel asked.
“We have some guns,” Boone said. “But we have a slight problem in terms of ammunition. Those guns require bullets, and while we have a lot, we don’t exactly have an infinite supply, and once we run out of bullets, we’re limited in our ability to make more. Even if we found a reliable supply of copper, lead and zinc and had all the materials ready, we probably can’t make more than a few hundred bullets a day at full tilt. So we have to conserve what we have as best as we can. All your men have swords, bows and arrows, that sort of thing. Am I correct in assuming melee combat is likely how most of it goes?”
Keltz and Syrel looked to each other. “The Pactlands haven’t known war for a thousand years,” Keltz eventually said.
Boone looked to both of them in his rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry?”
“The Pact forbids acts of war between the nations,” he continued.
“But everyone is armed,” Boone replied.
“Yes, for defence,” Syrel interjected. “War is forbidden between members of the Pact, but life and limb can still be at risk in the Pactlands. Bandits and hostile creatures are still risks. And here in the Disputed Lands, skirmishes might form between factions. Vector may deem our presence here to be of hostile intent, and may choose to attack us. We may then choose to defend ourselves, but such acts would likely be deemed outside of the Pact. That is the hope, at least.”
“The hope?” Boone asked. “That’s right, you guys aren’t really even supposed to be here, are you?”
“We don’t have hostile intent toward Vector,” Keltz explained. “We are only meant to observe and discover their intentions here. But these lands aren’t under the Pact. If a skirmish were to arise from an encounter with them, it is arguable that we have broken no laws of the Pact.”
“So I’m to understand that your men aren’t trained in melee combat?”
“Oh, they’re trained. Trained well,” Keltz said. “But there might be ten among the thousand men we have that have actually engaged in real combat.”
“So that’s true of the Vectorans as well?”
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“Vector is… different,” Keltz said. “For the past thousand years, Vector has defended the Pactlands from the Southmen, who live across the Lost Ocean and raid settlements across the coast. There are also the tribes of Caede, some of whom are hostile toward us.”
“That complicates things,” Boone said.
“Regardless,” Syrel said. “All those under our command are skilled with their weapons. It is a prerequisite of serving under the Knight’s Common Order. Vectoran Imperial soldiers are often conscripted, while our men serve out of duty. We are more than a match for them.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you might be able to help train some of our people?”
Keltz nodded. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “We have several men capable of training others in swordplay, although I might suggest pikes for your people.”
“Pikes?”
“Long reach. From what I’ve seen of your guns, they are useful at long ranges. You’d be best served keeping Vectoran attackers at a distance with pikemen while your guns pick them off. We can certainly help train them.”
Boone remained silent for a moment. “That might be an idea,” he said. “What about magic?”
“We have twelve trained War Mages,” Syrel said.
“War Mages?” Boone asked. “Who have never seen war?”
“It is a title, not a description,” Syrel added. “I think you’ll find them very capable.”
“We’d like to get started on training some of our Mages for our defences. Would your men be willing to help with that?”
“I… would not recommend that,” Keltz admitted.
“Why not?”
Keltz sighed. “Your presence here is… a surprise, to say the least. Many men aren’t certain what to make of you, but they are happy to serve. The War Mages, however, were all trained at the Deyish Academies under the Wings of the Raptor.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“War Mages have a strong code. While they serve Halen, they only do so in loyalty to their creed. Mages that have not been educated at the Deyish Academies are known as Wilders. Feral Mages. Untrained, unrefined and ultimately dangerous. Those taught under the Wings of the Raptor have a much more rigid philosophy than others because they know how to use their magic to kill. They spent years learning of the physical nature of their abilities. How to control fire, to manipulate water, earth, air. To heal the wounded. They would be… hesitant to teach Feral Mages how to do so, regardless of your special circumstance. Many take issue with their very existence.”
“So you’re saying we’re shit out of luck on the Mage front?”
“Perhaps,” Keltz said. “Perhaps not. The Shavian girl who volunteered to help you? Arie? She may be your best option for honing their skills. The best I can do is meet with them, perhaps advise on some known tactics.”
Boone looked at him. “And that’s not an affront to your own time at this academy?”
“I did not study under the Wings of the Raptor,” Keltz said.
“Okay,” Boone said. “In that case, I’d like to ask for your help. Yesterday we had the first meeting with those of us who have manifested abilities since we arrived. Apparently they’re meeting today, and have grown by an extra eight people since yesterday. If we’re going to be fighting Mages, I’d like for us to have some of our own. If you’re willing, I’d like to arrange for you to attend some of the meetings and consult on what we should be doing.”
“I believe I can oblige,” Keltz said.
“As for melee training, we’ll obviously need to start actually making some weapons for our men. But in the meantime, I’d like to get them as trained up as possible. Can I send you a batch of soldiers tomorrow, and see what we can do to make this work?”
Syrel nodded. “I can handle that,” he said. “I will have them trained by our best.”
“Good,” Boone replied. “We need all the help we can get.”
----------------------------------------
The sun was high in the sky by the time Boomer finally made his way down to Transfer Beach Park. Ever since he had heard about the gas rations, he’d been walking around everywhere. It was just as well, he’d been relying too heavily on his car and had gained a few pounds in the process. It gave him an excuse to go outside and get some exercise.
To his surprise, there were a number of townspeople outdoors at the beach. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought it was just a normal day, except for the fact that the kid’s playground was almost entirely devoid of actual children. Apparently the stories about the wyverns bothered enough parents that they decided it was better to keep their children close to home. He couldn’t blame them, but there were plenty of other people there. With the only jobs available at the moment being related directly to public service, many people were out of work, and without the internet, they were clearly bored, so they populated the park, sitting on the grass and looking out over the water. He’d heard a pod of Orca had been spotted in the waters, and wondered if they came across with them during the Blacklight Event, or if there were Orca native to the Pactlands.
He spotted Lily and Arie sitting on the concrete steps leading down into the amphitheatre at the edge of the park. The amphitheatre had been constructed where a coal transfer once stood, a remnant from Ladysmith’s mining town history, and how the park itself had been named. He could still see the rotted wooden supports beams jutting out of the beach.
The amphitheatre itself was built on a platform of wood and concrete construction that hung out over a rock ledge. During high tide, you could look straight down from the railing to see the ocean water below. During low tide, the smell of booze and pot smoke would waft up from the teenagers who would choose the spot for their parties because it was out of sight, thinking themselves cleverer than the adults, most of which simply didn’t care if the kids were causing trouble, as long as it was out of sight.
At the centre stage of the amphitheatre, two logs sprouted from the ground and towered almost a hundred feet in the air. Boomer wasn't sure of the significance of it, but he wasn't sure he cared, either.
Arie was the first to notice him approaching, and gestured towards him. She and Lily stood up and began walking over to meet him.
“Took you long enough,” Lily said.
“Don't you start,” he said, putting a finger up. “I’m out of shape and my legs are angry with me, okay?”
“I was thinking we should have the meetings down here,” Lily said. “On nice days, at least. Besides, I don't feel very comfortable with Fire Mages and all the old wood at the Trav’s. At least here they won't damage anything.”
“You mean other than the view?” Boomer asked.
“It is truly beautiful here,” Arie said. “Just when I think I've seen all the technological wonders this place has to offer, I see a natural one.” She stared out across the bay towards Shell Beach, where the Stz’uminus First Nations reserve resided, then whipped her head back to face Boomer. “I should show this to Tam,” she said. “Introduce him to Ladysmith. He’d love it.”
“Your brother? Isn’t he confined to your pendant?” Boomer asked.
Arie looked to him. “Confined? Yes, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have experiences.”
Lily cocked her head. “Don’t you generally need to have senses in order to have experiences?”
“Of course,” she said. “And there are ways to provide him with those senses in a fashion. Sight and sound, at the very least.”
“But he’s in a rock,” Lily pointed out,
“And I am an Earth Mage,” Arie said.
“So… wait. I don’t get it.” Lily scratched her head.
“Do you know why we call them Widow’s Tears?” Arie asked. “Because during the Eventine Wars, many lives were lost. Field Summoners would go out and find those near death, who were beyond saving, and with their blessing, move their souls into these stones.” She held up her Widow’s Tear. “The stones would then make their ways to their families. It became tradition to then take the stones to Mages, who could, at least for a time, provide them with a physical form. Earth Mages were sought after the most, as it was the only Foundation of Magic that could create a vessel that wasn’t certain to harm anyone. They could be made to inhabit a body of clay or stone. In some cases, during the Eventine Wars, Mages would use Widow’s Tears to create bodies of flame, or water and lightning and use the souls of perished soldiers to fight back against the Void.”
“Shit you’re talking about a golem,” Boomer said. “And you can do that? He’ll be able to talk and move and everything?”
Arie nodded. “It takes much concentration,” she said. “And it can’t be maintained for too long, but yes.”
“Oh this I have to see,” Boomer said, crossing his arms.
“I can maintain it for several hours,” Arie said. “I think I should like this harbour to be his first insight into Ladysmith. Oh, and I should like to show him a movie!”
“A movie?” Boomer asked.
“We watched Wizard of Oz last night,” Lily said. “She loved it.”
“I did. The music and the wonderful costumes,” she said. “I want to watch all the movies there are!”
“You might be hard pressed to do that,” Boomer said. “There are more movies than there is time to watch them. Wizard of Oz was made like eighty years ago.”
“We’re watching House of a Thousand Corpses tonight,” Lily said.
Boomer looked at her. “You’re not.”
“It’s my favourite movie,” Lily asserted.
“You’re going to traumatise her,” he warned.
“She can handle it.”
Boomer sighed. “If you scare her away, that’ll be on you.”
“I don’t understand,” Arie said. “Is the house made of corpses?”
Boomer shook his head. “No, it’s… never mind.” He sighed. “Look, I actually came down here to ask you something about Mind Magic.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been having these… dreams. Weird dreams, but… it’s like someone is trying to talk to me, but I’m not sure if that’s related to this magic or it’s just my own psyche.”
“What kind of dreams?”
Boomer hesitated for a moment. “Nightmares,” he said. “But also not. I just need to know if dreams are part of the whole Mage thing, or if I’m going crazy.”
Arie regarded him for a moment. “Not explicitly,” she said. “Not with Earth Magic, at the very least. But I could not say with Mind Magic. You said someone was trying to talk to you? What were they saying?”
“It was the voice of… someone I used to know. But then it’s the same voice, but different. Pleading. Maybe even a little desperate. There’s a door, and it’s chained up. But she’s telling me I have to go through it.. Then she says it’s for the children of the halo. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Children of the halo?” Arie asked. She put a finger to her bottom lip in thought. “The night appeared, I bore witness to the light that brought you. What you called the blacklight. That could be called a halo, and your people are its children. Beyond that, I could not say.”
Boomer nodded. He, too, had made that assumption as well. “The voice also told me something else. That you could help me.”
“Me? Did the voice name me?”
He shook his head. “Not exactly, but I… I just felt it was talking about you.”
Arie paused for a moment. “They say that dreams can show us to ourselves,” she said. “But I know so little about Mind Magic, I could not say if the voice was real. There are stories from the time of the Eventine Wars about a dead goddess speaking to Becca Ayre in her dreams, but I do not know what else it could be.”
“A dead goddess?”
She nodded. “Kalla, the Goddess of Knowing,” she said. “But that cannot be. The gods grew silent long before the Eventine Wars, and there is no record of anything since.”
“I’ve had them two nights in a row now,” Boomer explained. “Same dream. Same setting, same script. She’s asking me to open the door. It just feels so… so real, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Seems to me you might try opening the door,” Lily added.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Boomer said. He looked to Lily. “Some doors are better left closed.”
“I know from the stories I’ve heard of Mind Mages that dreams can affect your abilities. I’ve heard some have been able to manifest their nightmares into reality without intention. I cannot tell you what to do in this case, Boomer. But I do know that you should do it with the utmost care.”
A chill went up Boomer’s spine. His mother was a world away, and that’s where he wanted her to stay. He didn’t know what he’d do if she suddenly appeared in Ladysmith. Not to mention that the version of her in his nightmares wasn’t the same as she was in reality.
She was worse.
Far worse.
The big problem was that Boomer wasn’t sure if ignoring the nightmares was going to work, and he wasn’t confident enough to actually open the door. Either way, it wasn’t something he was ready to do.
----------------------------------------
The food had arrived by midday, and that had been a big relief to Goose. Two full days of meetings, moving their general meetings down to the more spacious Aggie Hall, listening to the concerns of townspeople, and electing two new people to the Emergency Committee had been a hunger-inducing process, and his wife had been working all morning on making sandwiches.
The new members of the Emergency Committee were welcome additions. Dan Charlie was a representative of the Stz’uminus First Nations, the local Coast Salish Band whose lands had been swept up in the Blacklight Event along with the rest of the area surrounding Ladysmith. Having him on the Committee made sense. If they truly were stuck in the Pactlands, then they had a major part to play in the building of a new way of living simply by virtue of their connection to the land.
The second new member was Barb Renaud. Barb had been serving as the Vice Principal of Ladysmith Secondary School for three years. Since the Principal himself had been residing outside the community, that made her the new Principal. Education was still going to be of vast importance, and what she brought to the table would ensure that the right decisions for the students of Ladysmith would be made right off the bat.
Unfortunately, two members of the Committee had to drop away from it, for the time being at least. They simply had too many other responsibilities to be concerned with. Gerry Boone was heading up the militia initiative with the assistance of the local branch of the Royal Canadian Legion. He’d already appointed several people to head up the Naval, Air Force and Intelligence branches of their new military, while he himself was working on the Army and experimenting with a Mage branch. Boone was an Army man himself. He’s cut his teeth on policing when he was young with the Canadian Armed Forces as a Military Police officer, but before that he’d been in Operation Cavalier in assisting in Peacekeeping activities in Bosnia in the 90’s. After he retired, he joined the RCMP, then came full-circle.
Brad Renfrew also had his hands full dealing with power plant woes. They were steadily getting the power back on all over the region. The cold storage facility near the airport had been able to function on their back-up generators for a while, but they were quickly running low on propane. With the amount of frozen food stores at the facility, it was a hard priority. Not to mention that the airport was on the same grid, and the fact that it had come across with them might yet have been the key Ladysmith needed to prove itself as a formidable force within the Pactlands.
Not that Goose particularly relished the idea of war. But if war was going to come, they were damn sure going to have a few surprises for whatever medieval force might think to invite themselves to loot the town. After a few conversations with Boone, Goose had come to realise that a medieval army would be no challenge for consumer-level military hardware. Sure, they didn’t exactly have access to tanks or destroyers, but a modern semi truck and fishing trawler could outmanoeuvre almost anything that existed in the Pactlands.
Not that it was that simple. The existence of magic was a huge wildcard that frankly, nobody really understood how it would look on a battlefield. Not to mention that the people of the Pactlands had a head start of at least a thousand years.
Goose wanted to, at least for the time being, give Boone carte blanche authority over military-level concerns, but the issue of bureaucracy prevented that. The Emergency Committee had to agree, and it was clear they didn’t. For now, at least, all major decisions on the formation of military branches or major activity had to be voted on by the Committee.
Boone also stepped down that day from his role with the RCMP, appointing Mike Chambers to be the new Sergeant in his stead. The police force of Ladysmith presented another problem. Of the twenty-five officers serving at the detachment, only ten came across. That meant new officers would have to be trained and hired at a rapid pace. Even the veteran officers were now forced to change policy in a major way. While there were a few holding cells at the detachment, it was by no means going to serve well as a permanent solution. Law and order were still going to be observed, doubly so under the martial law of the Emergency Act, and that meant the lack of a prison was something they would have to address.
Even worse, they’d have to consider what was to be done about people who could use magic and how to construct a prison that could keep them safe from themselves and others.
Ashe had some ideas. The older gentlemen sent down as an emissary from Stone’s Mouth was refreshingly erudite and well-spoken. Goose wouldn’t have expected that from the Freeman population of the Disputed Lands, but Ashe was an anomaly even there. He’d been born in Shavi, educated at the Deyish Academies that Goose had heard about so much, but decided he did not want to live his life under the Pact, so travelled to the Disputed Lands to set down his roots.
There, he met a wife, had children, and was now a respected member of the village. Now he was a consultant for the Emergency Committee on matters where local knowledge was paramount.
Apparently his background was in alchemy, but he had a wealth of knowledge regarding all the political nuances of the Disputed Lands in a way that none of their friends from Halen could match.
Roston, the other Stone’s Mouth emissary, was a farmer by trade. He particularly dealt in livestock, but wasn’t the most hygienic of people. Still, they needed someone connected to local agriculture to advise them.
Since that morning, however, most of the votes had been on the formation of various councils and committees to deal with any one of the millions of concerns they had about living in the Pactlands. Just in terms of economics, there were a good half-dozen new committees dedicated to trade, currency, debt, and banking. They could not remain at an economic standstill and hope to survive. Commerce would have to return, with a completely new set of rules regarding it. The decision was made to reopen some businesses starting the next day, and the banking community had agreed to honour any bank statement that could be proven. For those who did not, there was still the matter of what was to happen.
The issue of tenancy was also of great importance. Many homeowners in Ladysmith did not make the trip to the Pactlands. Therefore, there was nobody for their renters to actually pay. It made sense to Goose that in lieu of an owner, tenants of rental properties should get the rights to ownership, but that came with a number of other issues. There were several apartment buildings and hotels in town, and none of the owners were present. Businesses existed with no bosses. Who, then, did the controlling interest in such properties go to? The tenants? The employees? There was much to consider, and Goose didn’t want to see anyone go homeless.
Then they were back to the issue of fuel. It had been a relief to know that in a pinch, many of the fishing boats could run off of cooking oil. But besides a few grazing pastures and small farms, there weren’t many places that could grow the amount of canola needed to support a cooking oil industry.
What they did have, however, were a number of hobbyist mechanics with good ideas. Natural gas could be extracted from any number of places, and it was possible to install natural gas conversion kits into many types of vehicles.
Ironically, electric vehicles would be unlikely to last very long. Once the batteries started to go, there were no good lithium deposits, nor the infrastructure required to mine them. His wife’s Tesla would probably be sitting in the garage for a while.
Suffice it to say, Goose had a lot on his mind, and there were still weeks of decisions needing to be made.
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Terra was in her own little world. While outwardly, her consciousness appeared to be geared towards the operation of her quad, inwardly, she was deep in thought, dead to the world and blinded to the happenings. They'd been riding since morning, with one brief stop to refuel and get some food in them, but it was quick. Nalya and Bayne were very serious about getting through Featherclaw Territory as quickly as possible, but Terra was hung up on the idea of the creatures. She’d been filled in on the existence of other races that were present in the Pactlands, but she had a hard time wrapping her head on it.
Perhaps it was her own sense of human primacy. On earth, there was no question about who reigned over the animal kingdom. It was humans, end-of-story. As much as Terra loved animals, it couldn’t really be denied.
Ryan had taken the lead ahead of her, but wasn’t letting himself get too far ahead. According to Nalya and Bayne, it was a simple matter of staying on the paths and heading north, so he’d stop at every branch in the road and wait for direction from the others. Bayne had gotten good enough at riding that he was able to gesture toward the correct path, keeping the train going.
Terra had always found driving to be where she found her Zen. On the quad it was a little different, but her mind was still able to wander while her body operated on autopilot. She played over the strange vision she’d had the day she met Nalya, reimagining every little detail. She thought it over so much that now she wasn’t all that certain the experience was exactly how she remembered it. Had she invented details that sounded right and just assumed her memory was infallible? Or was her recollection of the visions a perfect image of what she saw? The whole thing was somewhat distracting.
Not so distracting, however, that she didn’t notice a strange movement in the brush alongside of her. She glanced toward the movement, but could see nothing more than the trees whipping by.
She slowed a bit as she second-guessed herself. Had she actually seen something or was it a normal consequence of moving at high speed down a forest path?
She took a glance behind her. Nalya was riding along behind her, and Cale took the caboose of the quad train.
Only, she couldn’t see Cale anywhere.
She slowed her quad to a stop and waited for Nalya to catch up.
“What’s wrong?” Nalya asked as she approached.
“Where’s Cale?” she asked.
Nalya looked back over her shoulder and paused. Ahead of them, Terra could hear both Bayne and Ryan’s quads slowing down to look behind them.
Nalya shouted ahead toward Bayne. “The Constable!” she exclaimed.
Bayne quickly stopped his quad and stepped off.
Ryan backtracked and rode up to them. “I’ll go down and take a look,” he said. “How far back would he be?”
“I saw him moments ago,” Nalya said. She looked to Bayne.
“Nae,” Bayne said. “Ryan, you stay here. Something’s off. Everyone quiet your machines.”
They each turned off their quads, and were immediately introduced to the growing sounds of the forest.
The four of them remained still and silent for several seconds before Bayne raised his eyebrow toward Nalya. “We need to leave,” he said.
“What about Cale?” Terra asked.
“Is it Featherclaw?” Nalya asked.
Bayne slowly nodded. “We need to get out of their territory,” he said. “Blast, I should have known. It must be the quads. The sound offends them.”
Terra felt a stab of fear.
It was quickly followed by a stab of pain in her neck. “Ow!” she exclaimed, putting her hand to her neck.
Something was sticking out of it.
Suddenly, she felt off. Even atop the quad, she was struggling to keep her balance. Her vision started to wane just in time for her to see a small black object sticking out of Ryan’s neck.
Bayne then fell limply off of his quad, and Terra found herself starting to follow in suit.
She didn’t feel a thing when she finally fell to the ground, but the last thing she saw before losing consciousness were two sets of bird-like talons walking across the ground toward her, each one containing a massive three-inch claw.