Ambassador Craven Wickedbreed stepped closer to the parapet of the Wall, breathing in the full chest of a fresh breeze passing from the west. He was a Troll, a New Breed, as the Reclamation Army misguidedly called the Blessed. His long arms reached all the way to his ankles, his skin shared the same gray of his outdoor clothes, and his face was flat and serene. Such was the nature of his group; the Trolls struggled to articulate their feelings through facial expressions.
But deep inside his chest, there was a storm of awe. In the past, this entire region had been a single megapolis, home to billions of souls living in habitat blocks and vast skyscrapers. Steel and concrete, like a skin, had covered every centimeter of the ground until the Extinction struck, rendering supercity into a necropolis subjected to the merciless whims of nature. The sober reminder of mortality didn’t disappear; the bastions of the Walls were partially built from its remains, while the earth swallowed the rest.
It was a surreal visage. One side of the border had green pastures, concrete roads, and open stores. Beyond the dividing line was rocky ground, with bunker’s emplacements entwined by creepers. The ancient tragedy had doomed ecological laboratories in the area, and their products had escaped. Humanity had eradicated the most dangerous specimens, and sentient Blessed joined settlements scattered around the globe.
But dark blotches, green vines, crimson creepers, and more of the man-made flora stubbornly grew from barren soil, bringing happiness to the distant kingdom through their sheer abundance of edible and medicinal plants and annoyance to the Recamiers who had to burn them off the wall each morning. The oxygen produced by the Old World’s unfinished terraforming projects filled Craven’s lungs, and he broke from his reminiscing to face a group of children.
“What do you think about the light show in the atmosphere?” Craven asked in an even voice, stepping aside so the children could see.
“It’s… magnificent.” Young Halina pressed her fists to her chest, her mouth agape in amazement. Behind her, Sister Défenseur Peggy Dimont, clad in heavy armor, smiled cheerfully and patted the girl’s head encouragingly.
Peggy belonged to the ancient and respected Six Lames Order of Oathtakers. Charged with protecting youth by the Taker of Oaths himself, they slowly evolved into mentors, guides, and teachers as civilization had rekindled anew. Their sisters and brothers traveled the lands, offering words of advice to parents, smiting slavers with the unrelenting fury of their consecrated Heretic Bane machine guns, and returning lost or abducted children by force when necessary. Scars marked Peggy’s face like medals and age bleached her hair, but there was genuine kindness in the sister’s face, and she spent her journey engaging the little ones in games to build bonds.
Halina Jović was the never-ending source of her worries, as the sister admitted to Craven. The girl had recently learned of her father’s brave sacrifice and had shut in herself, not responding to either teasing or attempts to befriend coming from the orphans. Unlike the rest of the kids, she wasn’t an orphan. Her guardian had sent the girl on this trip hoping to shake her up a little and to break this prison of solitude the girl had erected around herself out of worry of losing another dear person, and Peggy blamed herself for failing the child.
To see her show emotion pleased the ambassador. He had come here to survey the Reclaimers’ reach as their nations competed for the kingdom’s allegiance, but the girl’s joy was a reward in itself.
“Tch. Seen better,” grumbled T, a slightly overweight child, tugging at his collar in an attempt to appear serious. No matter Peggy’s efforts, T had refused to tell her his full name.
“Where?” Halina blinked, and T startled at the genuine question, hastily trying to come up with a believable lie.
“Yeah, where?” Jay playfully elbowed T. Lanky and long-haired, he often assisted Peggy in bridging members of their little group together. “C’om, big guy, admit it. You never seen anything like that.”
“Fine. It is something,” puffed T, surrendering. “What is that?”
Clouds obscured the entire horizon. Not the usual, heavy and black storm clouds and not the deadly, flashing sand pools of the Ravaged Lands—no, these clouds had black and blue colors mingled with red and purple, yellow and green, and glowing spheres, smaller white clouds, dotted this tapestry. The clouds swirled, jumbled, forming a living painting of a cosmic nebula in the atmosphere, hiding everything behind them.
“A side effect of a series of aerosol toxins released after the Extinction.” Craven stretched out his hand as if to hold the painting in his palm. “The deadly reagents that doomed our ancestors are no more, but nanomachine agents still permeate the air in the region, creating this majestic sight. Such is the lesson of our world, children. Human hands forged a tool of doom, and God, in His infinite wisdom, reworked it into a thing of beauty to spare the next generation.”
“I wish God had saved the living today,” Halina said bitterly. “None here deserved to lose… to lose…” Her lower lip trembled.
“This is the conundrum of our existence, Halina.” Peggy lowered on a knee and hugged the girl. “God gave us free will, the most precious gift of all. It is thanks to it we are able to love, grieve, and persevere, to overcome obstacles and build a better world, not because we follow chemical cues and physical stimuli like ants, but because we want to. It is thanks to it that some commit cruelty, and many bring light to where darkness reigned. Like a loving parent, God can’t just take it away or violate individuality, even if it means stopping the wicked, as it would forever scar our souls. But in His mercy, God had sent us powers and the Blessed to help humanity recover from the catastrophe, thus subtly saving us.”
“Bah. Religious superstition,” T said haughtily. “Those who died were weak. There is no God, no afterlife. Some people…” he clenched his fist. “… are simply not strong enough, not smart enough, or unlucky.”
“T.” Jay slapped him. “You make Haly sad.”
“It’s true!” T insisted. He glared at the rest of the kids. “I’m not saying it’s our folks’ fault, but it is undeniable! Sweet lies don’t help anyone; they are dangerous! If you are strong, you live. So I’ll become the strongest to protect you all. That way I… you won’t lose anyone again!”
“Thanks, T. You are very kind.” Halina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“An interesting perspective, T.” Craven nodded amiably. “It is very noble of you to grow into a protector, but you are missing a crucial point.”
“Yeah? And what is it?”
“There is a settlement to the north. Back when our story takes place, it was little more than a labor camp that sprang up in the Extinction's aftermath. They lived modestly, trading mined steel and found electronics for food. Until one dawn, when a Blessed approached them, boastfully demanding women and children as tribute. A defender fired at him, and the bullet barely scratched the man’s skin as his claws slashed across the brave soul, and fear rived the community.”
“See?” T stated smugly. “Strong and weak.”
“But a priest rose.” Craven raised a finger, asking not to be interrupted. “He beseeched people not to engage in slavery. Inspired by his religious fervor and concern for their fellows, the miners armed themselves. And when the Blessed returned, he learned that while a single gun could do little, hundreds were another story entirely. Yours truly stands here in part thanks to their decision to resist.” Craven laid his long fingers on his chest. “Do you see that individual strength is not everything, T? Faith had kept that community together, guiding them toward the right choice.”
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“That’s just smarts and strength of human spirit!” T proudly slapped himself over the chest. “It wasn’t belief in God that saved them, but cooperation. And the Reclamation Army has that in spades. Strength of spirit! Intelligence and might! These are the things that save nations!”
“Well said!” A voice thundered.
Two soldiers marched through the regulars to the group. Though their size was no different from the thousands of Normies manning the Wall, Craven immediately recognized them as fellow Blessed. The first one wore a rock-colored camouflage coat, a breastplate, and a lieutenant uniform. Blond and smooth-skinned, his hard gaze resembled the mighty bastions under his command. This was Lugal-marada, the regional commander of the Provincial Army in this sector. Beside him was a sergeant of the Exotic Platoon, Sagit Wolf, a lithe and almost ephemeral woman whose coat was buttoned and black sunglasses hid her eyes. Occasionally, yellow streaks flashed briefly from behind the sunglasses.
“You are wise to trust your judgment over mindless dogma, boy.” The lieutenant pressed two fingers to his cap in salute. “Far too many have been led astray when the answers to what is good or evil lie on the surface for all to see.”
“What is strength of spirit if not spirituality?” Craven asked, shaking hands with the man. “Church has nurtured the best qualities in mankind since the dawn of time.”
“And brought human sacrifices in the times of ignorance. Spirituality has no correlation with an innate understanding of what is wrong and right and refusal to quit.” The lieutenant replied, glancing briefly at the ambassador. “I grant you that the houses of prayer served as places of understanding of nature, and their prophets taught important values at one point in history, but humanity has long since outgrown that crutch. Your assumption of a divine origin for the powers rather than treating them as unexplained genetic anomalies is ridiculous. Shackles of your Oath are more of a hindrance than help. These days, to learn more about acceptance and understanding, a person could simply glean it from the Net.”
“Can’t imagine any downsides to such a method,” Peggy said sarcastically, and a corner of Sagit’s mouth twitched, but the sergeant maintained her composure.
Craven paid no mind to Lugal-marada’s words or his admission about spying on them. They weren’t enemies, for everyone here wanted humanity to prosper. The lieutenant didn’t trust him, likely believing that the ambassador was seeking to persuade soldiers to swear the Oath. It was fine; their nations rivaled in the past, and there will be skirmishes in the future. Time will heal these wounds of mistrust. The Oathtakers never lied. If Craven promised not to convert anyone here, he’d keep his word. It was Lyudochka’s task in Houstad.
The Reclamation Army put too much emphasis on individual traits and charisma. It was the Dynast’s ambition that saw to the rapid restoration of vast tracts of land. But between faith and ambition, faith always triumphed in the end. It was inevitable, for faith was an idea handed down by God, while ambition stemmed from an individual. And those never stayed around for too long. A century, even a millennium, of waiting was nothing. While faith had survived in various forms to this very day. Individual religions died, cruel practices disappeared, but faith, a belief in the benevolent Creator, persisted. If that wasn’t a sign of celestial interference, Craven wasn’t sure what was.
“But I was a poor host,” said Lugal-marada. The man introduced himself to every child, shaking their hands, and stopped at Halina. “My deepest condolences. Your father is a hero.”
“I know.” Halina forced a nod. “It’s just… I’d love to have a dad, not a hero! I know it’s selfish; he saved lives, but…”
“But nothing.” Lugal-marada stopped her, taking the girl by the shoulders. “What you feel is human. It is not selfish, it is not wrong, and you are not a machine. Grieve as much as you need to. What matters is how you deal with it. Don’t dishonor the memory of your parent; don’t sink into despair and live to the fullest. Find a way to be happy, for you deserve it, and in doing so, you will also honor Mirko’s memory.”
“You knew my dad?” the girl asked.
“No.”
“But then how do you…”
“Because seeing our children grow in peace is every soldier’s dream,” Lugal-marada told her softly. “It rarely happens. But you should give it a try.”
“Thank you, sir,” Halina said.
“About the tour… sir,” Jay began, and the officer nodded. “These clouds! The ambassador told us they are harmless. Is that true?”
“Correct, but you won’t see them up close today. I offered you a tour of our territory, but I had to postpone it, and I wasted too much time dealing with mundane problems.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” Peggy inquired.
“Remains to be seen,” Lugal-marada answered. “Our scouts failed to report in time, but such things are not uncommon due to the cloud phenomena that interfere with communications. However, we found a panicked family twenty minutes earlier who claimed to be from the kingdom, and I sent them to the Investigation Bureau in Houstad. Their statements are concerning.”
“Is this why the Wall is on full alert?” Peggy pressed on.
Craven blinked, looking around. He wasn’t a military man; short of basic self-defense courses, he had never even been in action, thank the Oath. To him, the busy marching of soldiers, the working of radar antennas, and the almost lazy tracking of artillery seemed normal. What else could one expect from a military base?
“Best not to take any chances. Not when there are lives on the line,” said Sagit, breaking her silence for the first time. A crack accompanied her every sentence, and the woman smirked at the wide-open eyes of the children as they noticed electricity sparking from her lips. She raised her palms, and arcs of light left her hands, coalescing into images of racing horses over the woman’s head to the gasps and claps of the children. “We’ll explore the bowels of the Wall today while our forces confirm security outside.”
“Aw,” T said disappointedly, then collected himself, as if surprised that the word left his mouth.
“Don’t worry, lad, the freak show won’t be disappearing anytime soon,” Lugal-marada said. “There will be plenty of opportunities to wander through it.”
“I wasn’t…”
“Is it true that the Wall is connected to the underground ruins?” Halina asked and looked down as everyone turned to her. “I’ve read it in a magazine.” She tapped her index fingers together. “There are supposedly immense domes filled with various biomes deep underground and caverns filled by ruined cities.”
“What, really?” Jay’s eyes flashed. “Can we check out the ruins? Can we take anything we find… I mean, souvenirs, sir! A skull or an ancient TV…”
“No, you can’t, government’s property,” Lugal-marada stated.
“And taking skull?” Peggy’s fingers drummed on Jay’s head. “Kiddo, you must learn to respect the deceased. These fallen souls had their dreams and desires; desecrating their helpless remains is an act unworthy of a human.”
“Oh, I planned to honor them; trust me, sis!” Jay clasped his hands together. “I was going to clean a skull, coat it in bronze, paint it dark, and then sell it for... Use it as a talisman, I mean! That way, a ghost could see the world and calm itself with the knowledge that life remains!” The boy finished dramatically.
“Even I don’t believe it.” T frowned.
“Yuck.” Halina raised her hands. “Jay, do you really need tokens so badly that you are willing to commit grave robbery?”
“Halina’s right; there is a way in; we even use it to grow fresh vegetation, but the area is not safe,” Lugal-marada continued as if nothing had happened, steering the argument away from the morbid topic, while Peggy sighed and scrubbed notes in her notebook.
“Have to pry exotic fruits from the stalks of fauna trying to murder us,” Sagit explained. “Good environment for honing the survival instincts of New Breeds. Not so much for children.”
“Agreed.” Peggy and Sagit exchanged nods.
Ear-piercing cries of warning sirens interrupted the further discussion. Craven leapt to the kids, unsure of what was going on, but Peggy was already near the orphans, and a group of soldiers surrounded them. The ambassador heard humming, and the very air outside the bastions trembled as the force shield bubble activated. Hundreds of feet stomped around them, taking up defensive positions; mechanic crews brought in projectors, surprising Craven.
“Situation report!” demanded Lugal-marada, glancing down at his terminal and hiding it in the pocket of his coat.
“Sir! Communications with Houstad and Regional Command are down!” A younger soldier saluted him. “We tried the emergency channel and couldn’t reach anyone! The Net is unavailable either!”
“Send orders to use radios and recall the bunker teams.” Unafraid, Lugal-marada stood on the battlement and surveyed the orderly preparations of his men. His voice, used to giving orders and being obeyed, boomed loudly, overcoming doubt. “Artillery crews target the cloud front; mortar crews stand by to support the withdrawal of our forces. Recon team Alpha-1236, start an immediate sortie into the Core Lands, deliver the news of this interference to the Third, and…”
“Oy vey,” said Sagit, joining the lieutenant. “Something massive is approaching.”
“Affirmative!” shouted a soldier showing from a door. “Sensors have detected seismic activity to the west!”
“An earthquake?” Lugal-marada inquired.
“Negative, sir! Not…”
“Your scouts have failed.” Synthetic speech came from the west, piercing through the clouds. There was no emotion in it, but every single syllable sounded loud enough to potentially deafen even a Blessed or explode windows. A second later, the dynamics of the fortress repeated it. “Your security has failed. You are cut off, alone. As I speak to you, your leaders are about to be felled, and your city is burning. The only thing left for you to decide is whether to bend your knees and live, or to be brought down with your wall. The Gilded Horde is here to claim everything. Choose your fate and give your answer.”
Then a new noise reached the defenders. A deep, low rumble that grew louder by the second, followed by the avalanche of stones being pulverized by something incredibly massive. A titanic shadow appeared in the clouds.