Arias joined them, somewhere around halfway to their first destination, the town of Rockfall; he had no idea how she had caught up, or how she so effortlessly kept up with his immense ground-eating strides, for she seemed to walk no faster than usual, yet crossed three times as much ground with every step that she took. It hurt his brain to watch her walk. He kept watching anyways; it was fascinating.
There were bodies on the road; mostly the not-quite-human “brood”. But a few that looked like they might have been human; he did not slow to check. He didn't really want to know. They didn't stop, as night fell; Madelaine snored gently next to his head. She couldn't keep up with him on foot, and the tiredness that touched him felt remote and empty. He didn't want to sleep, anyways; did not want to dream. He might take the thing's offer, right now. His mind was a slow recitation of names, and if we was vaguely surprised to discover Ceinpre's name in that litany, it wasn't so much a surprise as it might be.
They reached Rockfall the following morning; the stone buildings were scorched with ash, etched by power, rising over streets now cobbled in flesh and cloth and blood. He ignored the wet crunching underfoot, as he began moving through the city. The feel of flesh ripped, and bone erupting between his toes, was an unpleasant background noise, to the more urgent task of searching for survivors, moving to the center of the town. His gaze moved across the periodic pedestals, where prophets had proclaimed doom. There was more than one body splayed across them. They should have listened better to themselves, perhaps.
It was on the edge of the healer's district where he slowed – he saw motion ahead, just past a waist-tall pile of corpses. Almost all the strange distorted brood, his eyes noticing without emotion the rubbery wooden sticks, the saplings, rising from the bodies.
“HAIL.” His voice erupted in a rumble that startled Madelaine, and he had to catch her, as she tumbled forward from his shoulder; Arias leapt in a single motion atop the pile of corpses, her bow readied, and then lowered, as if a single motion. Men and women turned to them, interrupting a small gathering. A figure in head-to-toe black turned more slowly, hooded gaze hitting Thomas with a small shock of power. The fuck was that?
He stepped over the pile, and set Madelaine down, before shifting back to a more … human size. Arias leapt down, and moved in a smooth and continuous motion past Thomas and Madelaine to the figure in black, hands already in motion with gestures far more elaborate than he had seen from her before – and it took him a long moment to realize she was talking. Sign language. She knew sign language? Of course she knew sign language, it was just useless with those who didn't. Like him.
The hooded figure simply stood in place, taking the gestures in, and then Arias pulled something from her neck, and – a glint of silver, and then the figure bowed, and turned back to the crowd that had started gathering at the wall of corpses. What? He looked between her and the figure, and watched her put the amulet back over her head. And, as it settled between her breasts - he couldn't see it anymore. The confusion drifted past him, but he let it pass.
“ELIJAH!” And then his attention was on Madelaine, and up to the crowds – but she wasn't calling out to the boy, who wasn't in evidence, but looking for him, running into the people who were, as he slowly started processing the world around him, gathering possessions into a cart.
“Thomas.” He jerked at the dark growl, rich with threat, and looked around – and how in the fuck had he missed Balier in the crowd? Relief swept over him.
“Mayor! How … what happened after I left? Is everyone safe?” The lion-faced man moved between two people who were all too happy to make way for him. It took Thomas a moment to realize how tired Balier looked, which was all he got, before he was shocked by the sudden embrace – and belatedly hugged the man back. Balier stepped back, after a second, looking up at Thomas. He smelled like ash and blood. His growling yet posh voice was no more strange, but quite welcome.
“Most. Your report of the trees had given me concern, but even monitoring the area, the situation escalated faster than expected. I sent most of the town to Anchor, a week past. They should arrive soon. From the Black Warden's news … I am glad of my excessive caution.” He looked past Thomas, at the bodies. “I brought some here with me. Some of us didn't make it, but we arrived in time.” He hesitated. “For many here.”
Thomas looked around at the town, and back the way they had come, slowly recognizing that he had passed the line of battle. The ground where he stood was sticky with blood – but there were no bodies, and the buildings were intact.
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“I … do you know who else made it? Is Trenton alright?”
“He went with the others to Anchor. Pioneers are a hardy lot, and handy with weapons. I expect he is fine.” Pioneers? And then something that should have been obvious a long time ago, became suddenly obvious to Thomas. This plane was new, in the scheme of things; of course the people who would come would be ready for hardship. Most of the buildings he had seen were primitive – or rather, perhaps, temporary. He took in the stone buildings of Rockfall.
“What of the healers here?”
“Most … most made it. The healing district is where the townfolk made their stand, once they realized they needed to, which unfortunately was not soon enough for everyone.” Thomas glanced to the side, and was startled by the hooded man, standing next to them, looking between them.
“Greetings, Mayor Mersin.” The voice that emanated was … alien, insectile, with a buzzing undercurrent. Like throat singing. Where had that come from? What was throat singing?
“Warden.” Balier nodded to the hooded figure. “This is Thomas.”
“The threat identifier.” The hooded figure focused on him, and Thomas was once more the subject of a strange … pulse … of power.
“I … uh. Warden.” Thomas tried mimicking Balier's head nod.
“Herm.” It took Thomas a moment to realize that that had been a noise intended to convey thought, as opposed to a name. It sounded deliberate, in an uncomfortable and awkward sort of way – like it was being done because that is what other people did, as opposed to a habit. What was underneath that hood? “You are one of the newcomers.” It wasn't a question, and Thomas resisted the urge to step backwards. After a long pause, where Thomas tried not to stare into the hood, while the … warden, stared at him, Balier finally interrupted.
“Can we assist with the warnings?” The figure turned – and Thomas was startled to notice that the figure moved its body entirely to change the direction it faced, its head motionless underneath the strange silky cloth obscuring it.
“It is taken care of, Mayor Mersin. You are to join the evacuation of Rockfall. You are familiar with quarantine; please explain the details. I must continue.” And the figure turned once more to Thomas, pausing for an uncomfortable length of time, before proceeding back the way Thomas had arrived. He watched it go – and shivered when it ascended the pile of corpses as if traversing flat ground, not appearing to make an effort to climb at all.
“Creepy.” It took a rumbling laugh – tired, but genuine – to make Thomas realize he had spoken aloud.
“The Black Wardens are a strange lot, to be sure, but no stranger than any other. Why is the girl with you?” It took Thomas a moment longer than it should, to realize who he spoke of, which in turn brought a vague awareness that he really needed sleep.
“She's looking for a boy she arrived with, who came here for ...” For safety, he realized he couldn't say aloud. Balier just paused a moment, waiting for a word that didn't come, and then nodded.
“Ah, I think I remember him. He's likely fine. The apprentices weren't in the front lines. Let us find her and direct her to their work.”
Madelaine embraced Elijah, when they found him amidst others, loading carts with the meagre possessions of the town worthy of the effort. Elijah, who had been facing the other direction at the time – searching through and organizing piles of cloth according to a logic Thomas couldn't immediately discern – yelped, jerked, tried to spin about, and elbowed her in the face. She didn't even react, just hugging him more tightly, and the boy sputtered, caught sight of Thomas, and relaxed for half a second before he saw the mayor of Piketown, when he almost elbowed Madelaine in the face again.
“I'll never tired of that.” Balier rumbled out in the midst of chuckles. “You outplanars are so provincial.” Elijah's expression twitched between a dozen emotions before settling on a mixture of relief and embarrassment.
“Madelaine? Madelaine! You're alright!” He managed to turn around into her embrace, and wrapped her in a hug of his own. Thomas averted his gaze, feeling like he was intruding, as their tears came into focus. His attention moved back to Balier, the litany of names playing in the background of his mind contracting to two. Cenpre. Leisa. Anise.
“Mayor Mersin, do you know what has become of Grimhaven?” The man's amused expression faded as he considered the question.
“I do not, Thomas. You have friends there?”
“I – uh, that is, yes. What's the fastest route from here?”
“Thomas. You have grown, but you should accompany us out. The Black Wardens have been dispatched; there is little you can add. Evacuate, and meet your friends on the other side.” Thomas hesitated. The three names continued repeating in his mind. He thought of Anne, whose family had been too far away to evacuate. Who had evacuated, and who had – who had never really left.
“I can move quickly, and maybe I can help. If there's nothing I can do, I'll … I'll leave, but I need to look.” The man looked his face over – and then looked more tired still. Balier nodded, his great mane of hair bouncing as he did.
“Very well. I think it unwise, but – I think your friend can lead you.” Thomas blinked, and followed Balier's gaze – Arias stood nearby, silent. Always silent. But she didn't look tired; expectant, rather. Balier gestured to Madelaine and Elijah. “I'll look after these two. Go quickly, and join us on the other side.”
He didn't say goodbye; he thought he might delay too long if he did. They left, and the first scraggly leaf was unfurling from the first of the strange saplings, on the pile of bodies at the skirmish line. It glistened, red and wet.