The days leading up to the conference were busy. I paid little attention to it when we first returned, but there were a lot more tribes gathered at the Agglomerate than when we left. The numbers had only increased after Śuri called the gathering forward.
Apparently, dozens of tribes had gathered in the deserts around the áed city in the past months, waiting for the call that the conference would go forward. And now that it had, well, the previously bare space between each glass pillar now bustles with activity. Gers are pitched wherever you look, and the gatherings themselves have exploded with activity. If the burning bodies visible through one pillar are anything to go by, then even the Agni tribes have sent a delegation.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Surprisingly, it’s Elder Enya who asks. Between her and Cyrus, I would have thought they’d be old enough to have witnessed a gathering like this. I mean, many tribes have come together, but it still doesn’t come close to the immense populations in the eastern cities.
“Never,” Cyrus replies.
“Really? Have you never been here during a conference?”
“It’s not that we haven’t attended them before,” Elder Cyrus says. “There have never been this many tribes in one place, and they keep flooding in.”
As he says, with each hour there are more áed storing their carts and congregating amongst the other tribes.
“Isn’t the conference only for the grand elders?” I ask. I can’t imagine there was a grand elder travelling with each tribe. So why are they all here?
“Solvei…” Enya hesitates. “Between the activity of the Titans and those Henosis, people are concerned. It has been a long time since we’ve faced such dangerous times, and they want to hear the guidance of the Grand Elders.”
If people have been this worried, then the multiple year delay before the grand elders take any action is inexcusable. Śuri called the conference forward at the revelation of the encroaching ocean, but why did they not put the same level of insistence into our reaction when the Henosis were hunting us down? There is a limit to how great your temporal obliviousness can be.
Well, late is better than never. I can only hope that they hadn’t called the conference years ago because the imminent threat had already passed, and not because they were so slow.
Talking about slow, Yalun still hasn’t returned. It’s not long now until the conference. Many of the grand elders have already gathered within their meeting chamber, waiting for the last tinges of light in the sky to leave us. The meeting will begin in a few hours from now, when the Ember Moon bathes us in the Eldest’s crimson light. I know we rushed back quick, but it’s been over a week now since we separated; I would’ve thought she’d be here by now.
What if she misses the conference? That’s one áed less willing to argue against my punishment. Śuri and Odqan have already stated their distaste for my breaching of the taboos, even if they are sympathetic to my personal circumstances that led to it. How many more grand elders are there? How many of those will look positively upon my actions?
I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing I returned when I did. My judgement is only being enacted during the conference because of the chance timing. If I’d returned after, or much earlier, apparently only the grand elders residing at the Agglomerate at that time would discuss what to do with me.
Such a scenario would have been better as Yalun’s voice would have had more sway against less opposition, but on the other hand, having my judgement at the conference could be better simply because the discussion on what to do with me will be insignificant in comparison to the threats that face our people.
I feel bad for considering such dangers personally beneficial, but it’s not like it’s my thoughts that brought these threats to us. No, only my participation in our exploration of that island has done that… I feel a bit guilty for that, too.
As the blanketing shadow of the titan alps finally spreads to the furthest reaches of sight, my mind returns to Grímr and Leal. Neither of them will be returning tonight, despite the air between the outer glass pillars rapidly dropping temperature. It will be a few days at the very least before I can meet them again.
Unfortunately, the distrust of my kin toward outsiders came to bear despite all the help they have provided so far. I’m thankful Odqan asked nicely, but the fact that they are not welcome at the Agglomerate for the next few days doesn’t change. I can understand where the concern is — of the many tribes that have arrived, there are some with children, and the strongest elders will be cooped up within the glass mountain core — but the lack of trust shown to my friends is frustrating.
Leal showed disappointment, but she got over it rather quickly. With whatever she discovered when in contact with the Anatla, her time buried in her notes and equipment has tripled. I can barely get out morning greetings from her anymore.
Grímr is seriously too kind. He accepted the request with an easy nod, as if he expected such to be asked of him. It’s probably better things worked out this way, but I hate that he didn’t at least try to argue. The fact that he agreed so quickly means he either sees áed as closed off, or he’s used to being distrusted; I don’t like either option. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel like he was treated the same as he was amongst the fleshy races of the east. Áed have no reason to fear his parasitic nature, so I’d hoped it would be different for him here.
“Are you ready, Solvei?”
I jump at the voice. Too focused am I on all the new tribes that Śuri can sneak up on me. As I look up to him, I have to be honest with myself. I am not. This is too soon. Despite the importance of this event, I wish Śuri hadn’t pulled it forward. Too much of my future will be decided tonight. Can I be selfish and ask them to pretend I’m not here? To pass judgement in a few years from now? I know that is nothing to these grand elders.
“What about Yalun? She’s not here yet.”
But no, I can’t get out of things that easily.
“If she’s late, then she’s late. I’m sorry, but this is no longer something that can wait.”
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He places a hand on my shoulder. I’m sure he intends it to be reassuring, but it feels restrictive, like he’s making sure I don’t run off. I shrug it off. Even without Śuri gripping my shoulder, the touch lingers, reminding me I don’t have any other option than to follow him for now.
Running off now would only draw the ire of my elders. Not to mention doing so while the wasteland is being consumed from the west.
Resigned, I follow Śuri to the core of the Agglomerate. As we walk, many eyes follow us. I have to wonder what attracts their curiosity the most: the almost alien design of my snowsuit, or that one of the older grand elders is playing guide to someone as young as I.
I grip my spear to my chest. Another thing I don’t think I could imagine in any other nation than ours; Śuri doesn’t even question that I bring it with me. In a meeting between the leaders of a nation, would they ever allow the presence of weapons? I doubt it. But maybe they do; there are plenty of mercenaries and mages who don’t need a blade to cause harm, after all.
Activity within the glass mountain is far beyond what it was while I was staying in Yalun’s chambers. There are áed rushing around everywhere, each with their own task they hurry to complete in the short time before we start. As we pass the large main chambers, I notice many thin iron rods placed at equal spacing across the glass floor. The pieces are thinner than a finger, but there is enough for a thousand áed.
Further down, within a pair of smaller chambers, there are more rods placed before a few dozen rugs, each only wide enough for a single person. The rods are shinier and have a brighter colour than those from above. If I was to guess, I’d say these are silver.
When I look at where they are all facing, I realise these are viewing rooms for the conference between grand elders. They are empty for now, but within the chamber beneath the glass of my feet, many of the grand elders already gather. As expected of the ancient áed; hours of waiting must be nothing.
As Śuri leads me down towards the chamber, my eyes flicker between the twelve áed seated in a ring of rugs. In total, there are thirty rugs, but I know there aren’t that many grand elders at the Agglomerate currently. Are they rolled out regardless of whether they show? Maybe it’s a form of respect for those that don’t show. A way to express that they are regarded even if their voice cannot be heard.
The heat is strong this deep, but considering the conference chamber is not as deep as what I could handle last time, and it is dark, it is only a comfortable heat rather than a painful one.
Śuri motions to a smaller rug nestled between two of the standard larger ones. I hadn’t seen this one when looking down from above, as it is insignificant besides all the bed sized furs. The elder relaxes into the rug besides mine, laying on his back and only holding himself up by his elbows.
My position is annoyingly closer to the centre of the circle, meaning I can’t just hide behind Śuri throughout the meeting. I’ll be in plain sight the whole time. I consider dragging the fur back a bit, but the eyes of these ancients already following my every move stifle the action before I can even take it.
Resigning myself, I step onto the rug and almost melt. It is so soft. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Far beyond fennec foxes, such impossibly comfortable fur couldn’t come from any of the creatures I’ve seen before. Especially not those of the wasteland. Just where did they get it? Before I realise, I’ve already fallen to my knees in the impossible softness.
Quiet murmurs of exchanged chatter echo across the chamber, but most grand elders retain their silence, intent to keep to themselves. Between those already seated, there is no cohesion in how they hold themselves. Some hunch over with crossed legs, while others — like Śuri — lean back like they’re ready to nap. Odqan is off to my right, sitting stiff with a straight back. He nods my way, but that is the limit of our greeting.
Opposite us, and slightly to the left, is an elder from the Agni tribes. Her unconcealed flames stand in contrast to the rest of the grand elders.
As I glance around, I notice each of the grand elders has placed their relic weapons on the glass behind their rugs. Hoping not to drag their attention to myself, I slide my spear slowly backwards until it is in an identical placement to everyone else.
My attempts to make myself smaller and avoid their eyes are almost wasteful. Besides a few elders lost in their own minds, I can feel their gazes scorching through me. I am being analysed. Maybe they are judging me, or maybe they are simply curious of my presence. Their thoughts are unknown to me.
I don’t think most grand elders know why I’m here just yet, but they will soon enough. Śuri’s training has helped me suppress my presence better than before, so I can hide my capacity at least until he makes it abundantly clear I breached taboo. They don’t know, but that doesn’t lessen the impact of their gazes.
If these were enemies to fight, then I would have no problem locking eyes with each of them, but they aren’t. These grand elders are not people I want to go against. I mean, I will if I’m forced to, but it isn’t something I ever want to do. Unlike any other strangers, I actually care about what they think of me.
I snicker beneath my breath. After all my thoughts of the áed’s blatant distrust of other races, I’m not any different. Only those who have gotten close enough for me to consider friends are exempt from my apprehension.
A few of the grand elders raise an eyebrow my way, and I duck my head. Apparently, my derisive laugh wasn’t as quiet as I thought.
Thankfully, the presence of a new áed pulls away their burning eyes. He strides through the chamber with a conviction none could compare. The grand elder is large. He’s both taller and wider than any other áed I’ve met, almost like an ursu. Most áed can control their forms somewhat, even if not close to the level of the eagles, but this is the first time seeing someone take a much larger form like this.
Sure, longer reach can be beneficial in battle, but the increased surface area puts us at a disadvantage. Unlike fleshy creatures, increased size doesn’t improve our strength, it only exposes more of our fire to damage.
Rather than any of the rugs, this grand elder approaches the centre of the chamber. He places his hand on the glass floor, only for flames to explode out from him. Surprisingly, the fire digs down into the glass beneath us, creating a tube down to the plasma core of the Agglomerate. He lifts his arm, and carries a long cylinder of glass, which he easily passes off to a pair of áed that struggle under the weight as they carry it out of the chamber.
The grand elder isn’t burning away the glass, I realise. He’s removing already cut glass from a tube that connects this chamber to the forge. Each cylinder of glass he hands off is cut so perfectly, that I couldn’t even see the where it touched the walls until he removed them.
The process of removing the glass takes a good hour, mostly slowed by the áed rushing to carry them out of the conference chamber. Those glass cylinders do not look light, and yet he lifts them out with only the thinnest application of physical flames sliding between near nonexistent gaps. Even amongst the grand elders, his control must be impressive.
Nobody could miss the moment the last section of glass is removed. The heat of the chamber rises rapidly, settling on a temperature almost too much to handle. Thankfully, it isn’t so hot as to disrupt my control, but any warmer and I don’t think I could manage.
By the time I’ve adjusted to the heat, the grand elder has taken his seat directly opposite me and Śuri. His unflinching, contemptuous gaze glares into me from across the room. This isn’t the look of interest or confusion that taints the faces of the other áed. No, he looks at me as if I’ve done something to personally spite him.
“This is her, Śuri?” his rough voice carries through the chamber, burning in my chest like the sound is hotter than air. A single question, and yet I can tell this áed is comparable to Tore. To Kalma. His voice carries an unquestionable statement of his power. Strength not even Śuri could compete against.
“Yes, Hraun,” Śuri says simply.
Grand Elder Hraun.
Of course the oldest and strongest áed besides Ember herself has to be the one that opposes me the most.