26th of Locus
To Live and To Die
VI
"The town had become rubble, the people apathetic zombies... and not just the ones who passed beyond to the deadworld."
Tiana lay in her beige underclothes on her messy, crimson-blanketed bed, in her cluttered room, scattered with clothes and pilfered goods and pieces of armor she'd never wear like a debris field after a strike of catapulted shrapnel. Her hand was toward the ceiling, her eyes inspecting the back of her sweat-slick red palm.
But no matter how much she thought of it, no matter how much she concentrated…
She could no longer produce fire.
She tried the same techniques she'd used in the sewers, the same spells, the same directional manipulations of the ley. The same ones she'd used since she was a girl.
It was no use. She had lost her ability to cast.
And that pissed her off.
"Fia." she hissed with a flick of her wrist. Then again, enunciated, "Fire."
"Fio. Fia. Fiah. FIAH." The intensity of both her gesture and her voice swelled, her tongue barked every word and pronunciation for the spell she could think of.
"FIAH!" she screamed, her voice soon becoming a howl. "FIAH! FIIIAAAAAAAH!"
Again, nothing. She felt like a petulant child, sitting there and begging for something to happen, like a dog begging for a treat. She was so disgusted by the thought of it, she thrashed in unrequited rage, leaped up from the bed and made her way for her sword, a fit of frenzy in progress...
Knock, knock…
Tiana froze with her hand on the hilt. She hadn't intended to do anything crazy, but rage can be a hell of a beast to control. Hers most especially.
She rushed over, launched the door open only to the glowingly opposite smile of the deep-tanned Marisol.
“Oh, good morning!” Marisol covered her eyes in jest at Tiana's unbecoming outfit. “I heard you inside — is everything alright?”
“Has your damn capital been always so slim of ley?” Tiana sputtered.
Her smile did not falter. She said, “Actually I'm from Ruin…”
“Never heard of it.”
“It's right beside—”
Tiana shut the door in her face. People with so much energy make good distractions, good bodies in a ditch – and that was all. There was no benefit to speaking to her nor getting to know her; risking attachment was like asking for a knife in the spine when either one of them was finally killed. It was a ruthless world, and that was the truth of it. Tiana had survived once by luck alone, once by otherworldly power stronger than ley, and she had slim intent of pulling off such a feat again.
The sel girl turned back to her small, uncharacteristically lavish chamber. Red carpets, red curtains, a red bedspread. Too much fucking red. I'd incinerate this damn place, if only…
She held her shaking fingertips out at the curtains. Fiah. Fio. Fah.
Every iteration of the spell. Of course, the language components were only in assistance of remembering the necessary shape of the ley for manipulating the physical world; any good Lluevi knew that. But it hardly seemed to matter now.
Through the door came Mari’s voice again. “It's Calamity, isn't it? Blocking the ley?”
Tiana yanked the door open again. Marisol stumbled, almost fell — the stupid fool had leaned right up against the door.
Tiana waited with a scowl for Marisol to catch her balance. Then she said, “What is Calamity? The sky goes black and with it goes magic?”
“It's the death of all ley,” she said, suddenly immensely more serious. “It destroys, first, those things most unattached. Animals. Crops. Anything organic has the life stripped out of it; some of the old wooden homes still within Calamon have begun to collapse already. Then the ley barrier burns out, a hole burns through to the twice-ley. Etherian magic grows stronger, ley magic dies. And now we're into the final stage of it now – people are dying. A disease called Caine is spreading, a disease that sucks the ley out of people directly.” Then Marisol smiled slightly. “Come to breakfast, at least for coffee. Let's finish our conversation in a more sightly environment.
...And, perhaps, some more sightly appearances...”
There was no finishing that conversation at breakfast. When they'd arrived to the small dining area residing within the quaint, brightly-lit kitchen, sharp-faced Tyverius was already reading a courier paper at the table, sipping from a brown mug. Copper was there across from him, testing the sharpness of a knife with a finger. He stuck the finger into his mouth after he'd moved wrong, or proven the knife was sharp enough after all.
Marisol gestured for Tiana to take a seat across from Tyverius, beside Copper. Then she made a quick hop from the table to the kitchen and back, quickly procuring a mug of coffee each for Copper and Tiana.
Neither of them touched their mugs, only glowered at each other unhappily the same way Tiana glowered at everyone. Tyverius took another loud sip, and they both swiftly turned those menacing gazes to him.
Marisol clapped her hands together at the head of the table, nearly startling Tiana out of her seat. “Good! Now that we're all here… I welcome the three of you to the first real exercise of Calamon's Etherian Knights!”
Nobody responded with fanfare in kind.
She continued unabated, “Cedric assigned us all to this role with lofty expectations: we're to keep Calamon satiated and happy while he's away. Well, truthfully, he only asked that we keep Calamon safe, but I want to prioritize well-being, we need to restore Calamon to its greatness.”
“Fuckers should be happy to be alive. More than enough.” Tiana hissed.
Copper nodded in kind, “I agree with the brutish one, for once.”
They exchanged a glare again. Then Marisol continued with a smile, “We're going to be doing good work, helping those in need. I'm proposing that we take a look around today to see which problem areas would be best to focus on, where our hands can do the most good at this time. And we've got a lofty sum of Cromers in the coffers when we agree on a problem to solve.”
“Today we merely gawk at those less well-off than us.” said Copper, to Tiana’s own unspoken agreement.
Tyverius put down his mug and rubbed his sharp chin. “I like this idea. As knights, we should be appraised of the situations within our realm.”
Marisol smiled wider.
Copper thrust himself out of his seat. “You can go it alone, then. I've better uses for my time.”
Marisol’s smile teetered but did not collapse. “I would ask that you think twice before neglecting to use Cedric's gift of twice-ley for its intended purpose.”
Copper drew the knife. He thrust it down, slammed it sharply through the polished table with a crack of the splintering wood.
Marisol didn't flinch. Her smile didn't shift. Copper hissed, “You don't scare me.”
“I don't intend to. But there are things which must be done.”
The door to the kitchen opened silently then clicked shut. A man with purple skin and very short horns entered in a lavish robe of black with copper trim. He bowed slightly to let his long black hair fall over his face.
“We're harboring immeasurable power. Do not consider that Cedric neglected to take proper precaution.”
A screaming hiss, a high-pitched wail tore through the air. Copper knocked the knife aside as he staggered back and fell over his chair. He clutched his ears in agony. Tyverius fell forward in his seat, grappled the corner of the table. Tiana was the only one who managed to keep her watering eyes open, to watch the air warble and warp as though a raging fire had just exploded to life nearby. All of her body's alarm bells were searing throughout her mind, throughout her body.
“...My friends,” her voice soon grew again through the lingering ring in their ears, “I'd like to introduce you to Antithesis. And my friend Ekzire.”
The sel gave a short, emotionless wave. “Nice to meet you all.”
“His wave of Silence is potent enough to debilitate your natural ley as well as your twice-ley.”
“What the… fuck!?” Tiana managed to gasp, still reeling from the attack.
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Copper pulled himself up on the corner of the table with a slurred, “We're fuckin’ slaves.”
Marisol pouted. “This isn't something I want to do, but none of you seem to comprehend just how powerful you are now. Ekzire will stand down until my command – don't abuse this power. And if you truly want to surrender from your role, I'm sure Cedric would be more than happy to accommodate you.”
None spoke to that. There was a good guess between them what surrendering the role entailed: death, Tiana thought, he'd fucking kill us.
Marisol continued, “We've all fought for Calamon by this point. I want us to continue that way. You're all very well paid, very well taken care of. All we ask in return is that we protect these people, we restore Calamon to what it used to be.”
“First we'd have to restore the ley, no?” asked Tiana, idly picking her ears with her small finger, trying to resolve the remaining buzz. Her face was still contorted in some amount of pain. Her breaths were heavy.
“Cedric hopes one day that'll be possible. As of right now we need to do what we can to heal the surface wounds.”
“I agree in some way with Tiana.” Tyverius’ voice was shaky. “The wounds will not stop growing if we do not at first cure the disease.”
Copper forced himself up, pulled the chair back beneath himself and collapsed into it. “In the Jinn… the only cure for our disease was destruction. Anyone who caught their diseases of body or mind was struck down and utterly eradicated. Solemnists and Euphorists both. Living and dead both.”
Tiana spat, “You are suggesting we just kill everyone? Good luck. Calamon is full of adventurers who have spent decades honing their abilities.”
“And we're full of incomprehensible power. Is that not what she just said?”
"Ahem," Marisol interrupted with a wink to Ekzire, “Now that we've at least got the conversation started… let's go on a field trip!”
Calamon is a shitshow. Those were the collective thoughts of the group as they rode through the darkened streets on horseback, over shattered cobbles and through collapsed buildings. They could count the buildings which still had their front doors and windows intact on less than all fifty of their fingers. Most people had taken to the streets for the warming rays of Hemah under the cold black autumn sky, covering their heads with blankets and robes that looked liable to catch fire, if only the air were just a little more dry.
Tiana thought it was a miracle that fires hadn't been more common. And the only way to put a fire out in this environment was a magi with water capabilities, who even now were losing all potency of their lifelong crafts.
Tyverius hung his head. It was almost too much to bear. Even the horse he rode, and the horses of the other four, were bone thin. No food. No water. No sky. Those who were lucky (or wealthy) had at least managed to evacuate the grand city. But where was there to go? Llueves to the east, Aeon to the west… Alisa to the north, who had likely already killed many handfuls of evacuees during the first days of the siege. The walls were still pressed on some occasions, but that hadn't been their assigned task since taking up the mantle of Etherian Knights. He stroked the horse's thin mane. He longed for a better world.
Copper and Tiana kept their eyes pressed to the reality of the situation. There was no room for escapism, no time to daydream about “what-ifs.” They had a task. And with their last weary glances to Ekzire, they set about it.
Their discussion began with food and water, but none were too experienced on the subject. Then they discussed shelter, building places where the stragglers could go to be warm without being scalded by Hemah. But they knew no builders. They'd have to contact the guilds for more concise answers before they made any moves, Marisol decided. Her chipper mood hadn't yet faltered. She was inhuman by Tiana's estimation — even the sel girl who had seen torture and brutality and horrors uncountable in Llueves found that her stomach could hardly bear the sights, the smells of burning flesh and blood and bodies, nor the sounds of distant screams and wails. War, she considered, was worse in horrors than even slavery.
They discussed the ley again, the capabilities of their Etherians… but none knew the answers. They had yet to use them, had merely put up with the occasional whispers of those separate voices in their minds. Tiana’s did not have a voice. She did not yet know how to describe the gnawing feeling that he created. She knew it was him, or her, or it, but had no worldly idea of what exactly the thing was ever trying to convey. It was only too recently when it made her pursue Tyverius to the Petal wordlessly, inclined her ever so slightly in his direction. It gave her an uncontrollable longing. Not to do anything beyond what she might normally do, but to follow. To watch him of all people. And that was it. More than that, she did not know.
“This is pointless.” Tiana declared after a while of riding, of staring at the starving and dying people on their city streets. There were many places where the dying had been replaced by piles of the dead, not even good enough to be buried properly.
“To my suggestion again;” said Copper, “we snuff out the problem with force. We should take our arms to the bandits responsible. If we're beholden to the responsibility that comes alongside this power, they should be beholden too. They're the same in relative strength, but we did not turn our cruelty upon our peers.”
Marisol nodded from the fore of the party, Ekzire beside her.
There was a shout from a sidelong alleyway. Tiana turned to see a woman being assaulted beneath the shade of Calamity, two silhouettes dancing in immeasurable shadow.
She thrust her hand out at the man as he drew his blade. Fiah! FIAH!
An arrow glinted through her vision. Thwap!
Down went the man. She turned to Tyverius who nodded at her. “I am wont to agree with that plan — kill the bandits. Eradicate those who defile Calamon’s streets.”
He rode off toward her to offer aid. Copper's horse trailed slightly behind, stopped at the mouth of the alleyway.
Marisol pulled up beside Tiana. “You alright?”
“The fuck do you mean, ‘you alright?’ Yes, I'm fucking good. Never been better.” She turned her horse away.
Marisol continued before she could escape, “I was only asking about the ley. But you were a slave, weren't you?”
Tiana’s horse stopped. “What the hells do you know?”
“Nothing. Why else would I be asking?” She smiled.
“My father sold me into slavery when I was just a girl. Happy now?”
Marisol’s smile faded just slightly. “No. But I'm always here if you need to talk.”
Tiana swatted the reins against the horse and continued forward on the main street. Copper and Tyverius soon joined back with the main group. They continued on toward the northern wall, where the biggest press of the war had occurred. The closer they got, the more clearly they could see the shimmering steel gate. It was always open, and now it was sealed forever. The south gate opened for a few hours each day so long as there weren't any parties trying to sneak in or stage some sort of attack down there. That was the only source of heavily examined import and export, of product and refugees both.
Copper asked as they neared, “I'm surprised Cedric hasn't sent us north to fight Alisa. Surely their insolence demands a counterattack?”
Marisol shook her head. “There are more pressing things. Calamon can hold back an assault thanks to Rykaedi, and now that Calamity has taken hold in Alisa their war efforts have all but crumbled entirely. We're better off focusing our people here, using what few Hunters remain to try and undo this damage…”
“...Where are they all?” asked Tyverius, realizing the absence of the so-called five-hundred Hunters that yet remained on their side.
Marisol grinned slightly, though it appeared a hint more somber now. “After we pushed the first wave of Alisans back their orders were to return to the north and south gates. We'll see some soon.”
“Almost two thousand killed to defend our city…” Tyverius muttered in shock.
“How many more would we have lost if they didn't sacrifice themselves? We live to serve. We die to protect.”
None answered that query. The gargantuan wall grew closer and closer still. Soon enough her words were proven true: torchlight bathed the ground and walls all around the northern gate, Hunters milled about everywhere in their silver kit, builders and farmers and members of every guild conversed with the figures in charge, embroiled in tumultuous negotiation.
There was one man nearby who held the bridge of his nose in punctuation of a particularly heated dispute with a plump man in a bloody apron, likely a butcher of sorts. Marisol approached him with enthusiasm in her voice, “Stroud!”
He turned to them. He was definitely older than them — though their best guess at Marisol’s age would likely fall around mid-twenties to early-thirties — his hair was grayed by years of stress, deep wrinkles lined his pale, bone-thin face. ”Marisol,” he said without so much as surprise in his tone, “you've impeccable timing as always.”
“Thank you, thank you.” She hopped down from her horse, Hunter-saluted the man.
He saluted back then gave a wave to the rest of the party. They dismounted. Tyverius bowed courteously. Then Stroud continued, “We've finally received word that the main force is weak. Our spies have reported that the last of their siege weapons have been destroyed by sabotage, one company has been dissolved and one has retreated, leaving a single company behind in the dark.”
“They had siege weapons?” asked Tyverius.
Marisol nodded. “None which landed any hits; Cedric and our mages from Thelani dissipated their incendiaries from afar. We've still got some stationed up on the wall.”
Tyverius’ eyebrows raised. “Impressive.”
“Where's Vim?”
Stroud sucked his teeth as he looked around. He waved and whistled, “Oy! Vim!”
A dark skin man answered by jogging to the congregation. He saluted Marisol and the knights. “Evening, Marisol. Or whatever time it is.”
“Hi, Vim!” She waved cheerfully, neglecting the salute altogether. “How are we doing on recruits?”
He pulled out the scroll from the sleeve attached to his leg and handed it off to her as he began to explain: “We lost about a thousand on the field, five hundred were brought to the infirmary and recovery is proceeding apace for those capable. Five hundred more scattered between the upper walls and other tasks managed to survive the onslaught. Our processes since our original recruitments have improved tenfold; I'm happy — ecstatic to say that our entire reserve of Hunters is now combat ready, and further integration training is ongoing as we speak.”
Vim gestured to the nearby rows of soldiers, their armor clattering in obedience with every shout from the marshal running their training drill.
Marisol smiled. “Excellent! Good, good! Last estimate was about ten thousand Hunters total, right?”
“Yes, ma'am. Most of them were seasoned adventurers or fighters already, it was really just a matter of weeding out the experienced ones from the rest and getting them acquainted to the commands which Stroud has prepared based on his soldiering time in a country named Olvia. That means we've got about seven thousand soldiers ready to go, more than three thousand on the way.”
Marisol clapped excitedly. “Good work Vim! And good work Stroud!”
Stroud bowed. Vim nodded with a smirk.
Then Stroud began, “Marisol, I remember what you said about a counterattack… but right now we've got a perfect shot at running down a third of Alisa’s army. Seven thousand men is a lot of men. We wouldn't even need Rykaedi's help; it would undoubtedly do wonders for troop morale.”
“Hmm. How confident are you that we'd succeed?”
“There is no doubt in my mind. We'd bring half the force to arms, thirty-five hundred men. Archers up front on the mounds blind-firing flaming arrows, our cavalry would run in after and finish the lighted targets. They won't see us in the shadow. But we'll see them.”
Tyverius nodded along. Copper stared intently at Stroud’s enthusiastic eyes, stuck in the center of his drab and lifeless face. Tiana stared off at the black sky disinterestedly.
“Alright!” declared Marisol, turning back to her party, “Who's ready for a live training exercise?”
And Ekzire let his own narrow-eyed smile befall the group.