4

----------------------------------------

THE DAY THAT WAS

“Excuse me, young miss,” Tarn said, brushing Pandora back from the rostrum. The Crijatan was nothing if not polite as he pushed her by the small of her back to the far side of the stage. Pandora did her best to bat his hands away, but he was most insistent. Once she was suitably sidelined, Tarn shuffled back to the rostrum and put a hand to something set into the pedestal. When he drew his hand back, a step protruded from the rostrum, just his size.

Tarn stepped up onto the step, and placed one hand onto the Soulstone plaque. The shutters closed around the dome, the lights dimmed, and a massive hollowcast filled air at the rear of the stage. Pandora could feel the room heating, as though a Scorcher was producing the image. Light resolved into the image of a large city. A foreign place of strange architecture. Tall, blockish buildings of steel and glass, all packed tightly together. Like field stalks of maize just before harvest. There were a few good krystarian buildings, elegant domes of Soulstone and mortar. Terrish symbols streamed around the edges of the image spelling out the headline of a news gazette.

Krystarian Facility in Gratis attacked.

Pandora adjusted her spectacles, squinting up at the image. That couldn’t be right. The Gratisians hadn’t made any trouble for the last twenty years. They wouldn’t…

There was an explosion at the city wall, a building collapsed. It just fell. The tower seemed to become dust at the base, disintegrating into the earth as the building was devoured by a maelstrom of detritus and debris. Pandora could not see any people in the image. But she knew there must have been hundreds in that collapsed building, thousands. Fires began to crop up on other sections of the wall. Smoke rose into the air. The entire image began to shake. It became a blurred mess, then it cut out, resolving into smoky white light.

A tan woman with dark hair in a krystarian bun appeared in its place. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she had been crying.

“So as you can see,” the woman swallowed before continuing on.

“Cantel’s walls have been b-breached. There are now Sovereign troops on Krystarian soil. Word from the city garrison is sporadic, and… The, um… casualty reports are still coming in, but… so far the count is um… over four-thousand dead. And… eight-thousand wounded.” The woman’s voice broke several times as she spoke, but her words were clear enough.

Barneaux made a slashing gesture at Tarn, and the hollow-cast, cut out, the light seeming to evaporate into mist. The shutters opened up, and the assembled crowd began to murmur. The murmurs became hushed arguments, then full on shouts. Pandora could feel the tension in the air, the panic. Fear over took her then. The thin veneer of soldierly discipline she projected melted away.

“Relax,” Shadow whispered.

Pandora ignored it.

“What does this mean?” She asked.

“Have the Gratisians attacked?” Durant asked.

“Why now?” Tarn asked. “After all these years?”

“Hush,” Barneaux said with a wave of his hand. No one could hear him over the din, the panicked shouts of confusion and worry.

“Quiet,” He said. Still the shouting continued.

“Enough!” He roared. Everyone and everything went still.

“You’ve all been inducted now, so you can see yourselves out. Dismissed.”

The members of the crowd just stared, looking up at the Lord commander from the auditorium floor.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Barneaux said. “You’re all dismissed. Anyone still in this room after I count to ten, is going to learn just how fast you can get to the ground floor from the top of this tower. So move. Now!”

That got them moving. The youths all began to scramble for the exit, pushing and shoving their way to the doors. Even the Sentinels gave up on their neat ranks to file out of the room among the other jostling inductees.

Durant sighed in resignation. “Ladies and gentlemen, the graduating class of thirty and thirteen,” she shouted.

She clapped for the youths, but no one joined her. They were too busy clogging up the doorway. Pandora decided she’d better make her way as well. At least this incident had saved her from having to make a speech. She started down the stairs.

Then she paused, turning to regard the Lord Commander over her shoulder. He was facing away from her. His fists were at his sides, clenched in apparent frustration. Pandora was bouncing a little on her toes, trying to fight down a sudden wave of anxiety.

“Don't,” Shadow said in her mind.

“I have to,” she replied. “That looked bad. I need to know if this concerns me.”

“It doesn’t. But it will if you try to get involved.”

“Aunt Yanis lives in Cantel. Maybe I can get him to tell me more by asking about her.”

“You think he gives a damn?” Shadow asked.

“I have to know,” Pandora insisted. “Is this it? Why I was chosen. Barneaux knows. He has to.”

“So what if he does. He thinks we’re a failed successor. Unworthy. He won’t talk.”

“We’ll see,” Pandora said out loud, as she headed back onto the stage. Her other half grumbled but offered no further objections.

Pandora could feel people coming up behind her, felt them by the pulses of Ether they produced. For once she didn’t check over her shoulder for assassins. She wasn’t surprised when Aria, Freyja, Finn, and Esh joined her on the stage and walked up behind Lord Commander Ekeku Barneaux.

Tarn saw the coming and gestured emphatically for them to turn around and flee. Pandora kept coming anyway. Durant was kneeling at the rostrum, one hand on the Soulstone plaque. Praying to the oracle no doubt. She looked up as they approached and stood to regard them.

“You kids should really head home,” she said. “This will be all over the athenaeum by now. Your parents will be worried about you.”

“We will, Sister, we will,” Freyja said. “It’s just…” She turned to Finnigan, but he looked just as lost as her. He stammered, trying to finish her thought.

“We just… uh…”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Pandora and I have an aunt in Cantel,” Aria said. “We wanted to ask after the citizens of the city. Are they being well treated? Deported? We were hoping the commander would know.”

Pandora looked at Aria with lips parted and one eyebrow raised. Had she had the same idea as Pandora? Or had she guessed Pandora’s plan without even having to discuss it? Or perhaps it was genuine concern. Pandora’s aunt Yanis was bloodsister to one of Aria’s mothers. But as far as Pandora knew, Aria hadn’t spent any more time with Yanis then Pandora had. They weren’t close. In the end it didn’t matter. They had their opening. She could ask Aria about it later.

“Commander,” Pandora said.

Barneaux didn’t respond.

“Lord Commander Barneaux."

“You hayseeds should listen to the Sage. The building’s gonna be packed soon. Packed with yokels asking questions, wondering how we’re going to respond to this…” He twirled one hand about. “Insult.”

Pandora pursed her lips. “How are we going to respond, sir?”

Tarn was shaking his head vigorously, massive green eyes as wide as dinner plates. Pandora ignored him.

“Wen, do you realize what that hollow was about?” Barneaux asked.

“We’ve been attacked,” Pandora replied. The Sovereigns are taking Cantel.”

“Have taken Cantel,” Barneaux corrected, rounding on her. “That hollow is from two days ago. One of our Legates had to smuggle it out of the city.”

Pandora drew back, feeling her face drain of blood. “What’re…” She swallowed. “What’re we going to do?”

“What do you think? We’re going to respond in kind. We’re going to mobilize a force, take back the city, and remind those Sovereigns what happens when you challenge the krystarian way of life.”

Pandora winced. “Sir, we studied the Secession at the academy. They’re radicals. We’ll have to kill thousands of them just to land in Gratis.”

“Oh most definitely, and then they will respond in kind to us.”

Pandora did not like the sound of that at all.

“Pardon me for saying, sir.” Aria said. “But that sounds an awful lot like the beginning of a war. Surely the admiralty and the Lords Senator know how this will end.”

“Which is why!” Barneaux’s voice became a shout. “We’re gonna hit those bastards now before they can mobilize their civilians!” Barneaux folded his arms. “Savages.”

“Perhaps we could… negotiate with the Sovereigns?” Freyja said. “Ask them why they attacked Cantel. Address their grievances.”

Pandora nodded. “She’s right. It doesn’t have to be war,” Pandora said. Finneon arched an eyebrow as her, but she went right on. They didn’t need to fight. They didn’t need to use Pandora. “They can’t win against the Krystarium. They have to know that. We can talk to them. Demand reparations. We made peace with them before.”

“Dark Lord Sehk made peace with them before!” Barneaux snapped. “But I don’t see him around anymore, do I.”

Barneaux leaned down, getting right in her face. She turned away, but he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look him in the eye.

“No. Just you. The Admiral’s pet, the chosen one. You want to talk. No surprise there, talking seems to be all you’re good at. You’re lucky we don’t test Sentinels on Solar ability otherwise you’d be the bottom of the barrel, Valedictorian.”

Pandora couldn’t stand it anymore, his fingers digging into her flesh. She smacked his hand away and took a step back. It was a defensive stance. Shadow was roiling within her. And if she took over there’d be no telling who might be hurt. But Barneaux didn’t make any more aggressive moves. He just shook his head, staring down at her with disappointment.

“I do hope our forces end this war quickly. If we have to send you kids to fight, then those savages will be painting the streets with your innards.”

“Ekeku!” Durant snapped. “That is enough.” She turned to Pandora. “Please, children. Go. The Commander is… distraught… right now.”

“Yes, you kids were dismissed,” Barneaux said. “Run along now, so the grown ups can talk. Don’t know why I’m even bothering with you brats.”

Barneaux turned his back on them, clasping his hands behind his back. Pandora felt a hand on her shoulder. She almost wheeled on the person, but a quick glance showed her that it was only Freyja.

“C’mon, Dora. Let’s go,” Freyja said.

Pandora shot one last angry look at Barneaux. He was staring up at one of the stained glass murals. The newest one, over a decade old. It depicted a man with a sharp chin and jet-black hair in a krystarian topknot. Dark Lord Arden Sehk, with his arms upraised, barring the path of a great amorphous beast.

Pandora turned to go, Freyja practically hauling her towards the golden steps. The other inductees were already gone, having filed out while Barneaux had been raving at them. Eshu ran up to Pandora’s side as they descended the steps.

“So, anyone wanna tell me what all that was about?” He asked.

“Esh. Be quiet,” Aria said.

“No seriously,” Eshu said. “Are you two trying to thrown off the top of the guild tower? I’ve seen him do it, y’know.”

“What did he mean by that?” Finneon asked. “Admiral’s pet?”

“I mean… not to people, but contraband…” Eshu said.

“It’s nothing,” Pandora said, quickly. “Barneaux hates me. You know that.”

“Well at least we know he’s got good taste,” Finneon replied.

“Stop it, Fin,” Freyja said. “This is no time for your mean spirited jokes.”

“He caught me with a bottle of moon wine, once,” Eshu said. “Threw it right out the sun gate. Right in front of me.”

“Do you really think there’ll be a war?” Freyja said, looking up at Aria.

“Hard to say,” she replied. “Dora was right. It’s not a war they can win. They barely have any Solars worth the name, and they get all their Sunstone from us. It doesn’t grow in the Sovereign States. Which is why the first thing the Krystarium did was cut off their supply.”

“Wait… What?!” Finneon said. “When did this happen?”

“I watched it fall all the way down the side of the tower,” Eshu said. “Didn’t hear it shatter of course.”

Aria sighed as she led them all into the lift. “It happened this morning. All Kahjemuji airships in route to the former colonies were called back and not a single one has been allowed to leave since.” She put her hand to a Soulstone panel in the lift, the doors shut, and it began to descend. “What’s more, several Kahjemuji are headed to Skithia now, on the other side of the Sea of Silver Spears from Gratis. Word is we are amassing troops there, preparing our response.”

Freyja’s eyes widened. She looked poleaxed, her usually tan face going almost as pale as her ghostly white hair. Pandora didn’t blame her. She herself wasn’t shocked. She just felt numb.

“This can’t be happening,” Freyja said.

“How do you know all this,” Finneon asked, looking just as disturbed as Freyja.

“My bloodmother has a brother in Skithia,” Aria said. “He called my mothers and fathers this morning. He was… He was worried I might get called up to serve.”

Finneon shook his head. “Is there anywhere you don’t have relatives?”

Aria appeared to contemplate this question for a moment. “Not that I know of. Nantura is a closed state. I don’t have family there.”

“That’s what you meant earlier,” Freyja said. “About the Krystarium needing good Sentinels.”

“And she was right,” Pandora said. “The Krystarium is going to need good Sentinels.”

People like Aria. Even people like Finneon. Good honest Sentinels that actually deserved the recognition that came their way. Not people forced to play the part. Barneaux had been right about one thing. Pandora was no Arden Sehk.

“Dora, are you alright?” Freyja asked. “You look…”

“I’m fine.”

Pandora turned her back on the others. Opting to stare at the transparent walls of the lift. They were not entirely transparent. Pandora could see her reflection in them. She could see Shadow bleeding through, splitting her face with a rictus grin.

“Really. Thanks, but I’m fine.”

They were nearly at the bottom now, and Pandora could see the statues coming up below. She could not see the inscription on the statue of Arden from this angle, but the words on the pedestal rang out in her mind all the same. The future is Incarnate on you.

Shadow laughed bitterly through her lips. If that were true, then it would be a very bleak future, indeed.

*****

When the days grow short, when darkness and death reign,

when the ground splits, and the sky is set ablaze,

when flowers of war take root, and the sea of strife swallows the land, when the crown of wisdom rusts and breaks,

Hope will die, while salvation lives.

Sing for your salvation.

From The Prime Causality, Parareal.

Prophesied in 131 FE,

Interpreted in Year 48 of The 7th Century AE.

by Indra Hadur, Born of Nukare, under Bhazima