The raven flew over the land and saw that a fence had been laid between the forest and field. Nearby, the black hound was pacing along its periter. The raven flew down and stood on the new fence just ahead of the hound.
What is this? the raven demanded. Why does man think he can draw lines upon the forest, and stop the others from moving into the field?
This is a fence, the hound replied. It tells others that the field belongs to the man, so that he may use it to raise his crops.
The ravens anger grew at the hounds words. How can land be claid? it asked. This fence cannot bar the others forever. The boar will break it, or the tortoise will smash through. Even if it is rebuilt, the claim will not stand. It will be contested by every animal. Man will be forced to defend it each day and night. In doing this, he has declared himself in opposition to nature. Yet you stand with him? Why?
Friend raven, the hound said. I am of nature, as is man. You draw your own line across nature if you seek to call him anything else.
What he does is dangerous, protested the raven.
Fire is dangerous, replied the hound. I am dangerous. The very land can take your life, if you are careless. Man knows this as well as we do. But - where man sees danger, he does not run, nor fight. He learns how to feed it.
Pre-Gharic Ardan manuscript, vellum, c. 500 PE
Michael stumbled through the close hallways of the airship, barely seeing what was in front of him; he trusted Sobriquet to lead him to the platform while he kept his focus outside, trying his utmost to maintain the swirling shield that kept the worst of the storm at bay. It was increasingly challenging to do. This close to the storms center, the winds were powerful and chaotic. Crosswinds lanced into his carefully-maintained vortices like knives, spilling bloody air out and sending the whole structure precariously spiraling out until Michael exerted himself to contain it once more.
He nearly fell out the door to the platform, and again when the wind slapped against his face with stinging force. His potens soul was little comfort against the titanic forces raging around them, midnight-black tides of air and water striking them in surges. Only Amiras enveloping presence kept them safe. It was iron around them, making Michael feel as though his feet were an extension of the decking. Nevertheless, he gripped the rail, hard, and turned to the storm.
Standing outside made his task imasurably easier. The winds quieted before he had the chance to straighten up, llowing to a re stiff breeze as his refined control of the vortices grew. The rain fell on them in gentle waves, though still enough to drench them. Sobriquet sputtered and glared up towards the bridge.
Damn Lekubarri, she spat. I could have been here just as easily from inside - gah! She staggered left as the wind surged back.
Michael tightened his grip on the rail, working hard to tuck away all the stray winds that threatened to intrude on his sanctuary. He wasnt lying. It gets worse from here, much worse. Amira-
I know my part, Amira replied. Her eyes were open, ignoring the rain that pelted against them. Her hands were balled into fists, her breath coming hard and fast. I am the Shield.
Youve ntioned, Sobriquet muttered. Whatever else she might have said was lost in a roar of wind. The wall was close, its periter marked by snaking lightning writhing against the rain. Michael could see the invisible currents, could mark where the air sprang into furious motion.
Hold on! he yelled. The vortices spun, spun, and he ploughed everything he could into them-
The first blast of the storm wall ripped them away like gauze. The airship gave a deep groan that reverberated into the soles of his feet; Michael scarcely felt it as the storm pressed itself down upon them. Rain shot into his eyes, his ears, up his nose. His clothes flapped with enough force to draw welts from a normal man.
He could afford only a mont of shock; gritting his teeth against the deluge, he worked to reestablish his protection. It was an entirely different problem than before. There was no constant in the deep storm, no predominant flow. There was only chaos, and darkness. Amira scread into the wind, throwing her head back.
I am the Shield! she cried. THE SHIELD! I STAND!
Yet the storm peeled back the cover of her soul, tore into the airships fragile skin; Michael could see ribbons of tal ripped away, could feel the bending ache of its struts. He spared a mont for his artifex soul and bade the decking wrap each of their feet in tal, securing them fast - then threw himself outward with renewed fury.
Against the chaos of the storm, his low souls raged as one. To their light, he added everyone else aboard the airship. Sobriquets quiet determination, Lekubarris tenacity, Antolins confident grasp, and Zabalas surprising faith in all of them to pull it off, even as the ship bucked around them wildly.
And then, at last, when he felt as solidly powerful as he dared dream, he reached out to touch what Amira had unveiled. She had always been a void to him, an abyss empty of all but the barest glimr of emotion - but here, in the teeth of the storm, she was seen. She was tested. In this crucible, the ember at the bottom of her vast and empty self flared brighter than any other, and she fought against the storms ravages with every mote of her being.
It was electric, uncontainable; she was pressing the raw essence of herself against the world, and though it threatened to tear her apart - Sibyl rang with every mont of it, a wordless voice screaming TRUTH.
Michael drew that truth out, shaping it into a solidity for his own use, weaving it in among the others. Stanzas lattice drew taut under the weight, but its movents would no longer be denied. He beat the storm back one gust at a ti, denying its chaos, enforcing the truth of those near and within him.
The wind fell away in fragnts, still gusting hard but lacking the bite of its initial salvo. Its own turbulent nature worked against it; Michaels will lent form to the sheltering windward gyre, and the formless could not contest his works. Amiras solidity flooded outward as the ravaging pressure failed.
She laughed wildly, punching her hand into the air. I am tested! she crowed. I am tested and I stand!
Join the club, you crazy bitch! Sobriquet whooped back, swooping in to envelop Michael in a hug - then drawing up short, frowning at the tal encasing her feet. Michael.
I wont apologize, he said, tapping his hand against the rail; the tal fell away and she leaned into him, pressing sodden and warm into his side. Were not through yet-
The storm heaved against them one last ti, bucking the airship upward with enough force to clack Michaels teeth together - but then the wind failed abruptly, sending them careening into clear air. Twilit clouds stretched all around them, with clear and purpling sky visible overhead. A rank humidity assaulted them, heat that had no business in the dead of winter.
Beneath them was a flat, alien plain, any trace of Gharic topography and flora stripped by the wind. Michael didnt know where on the peninsula they had erged, or how far the storm had spun them around, but he doubted that any map could recognize a landmark here. The country had been erased, and in its place was a dead land with barely a few scattered rocks to disrupt the muddy lakes and basins of its surface.
That was not what drew his attention, though. Near the center of the clear space, in a broad crater that sloped gently upward at its edges, there was a faint mote of light that flickered and shone, as if one of the stars overhead had fallen. Michaels sight fixed upon it, though he was strangely reticent to shift his viewpoint closer, to see in truth what lay at the core of that distant light.
Anyti now, my dear. Lekubarris voice ca over the airships intercom, shockingly loud in the sudden lull. Michael turned to wonder at it, pulling his sight back - just in ti to see Amira hurtle towards him, catching him across the chest with her maid arm even as the other stretched out to grab Sobriquet.
They were over the railing before Michael had registered what was happening. His hand shot out to grab the collar of Amiras shirt, drawing her and a wide-eyed Sobriquet close; she wore a self-satisfied expression.
What the fuck, Amira! Michael shouted, his heart thundering as they fell. The wind stole his voice away. She heard, though, and grinned in his face.
This was always the plan, she shouted back. Or didnt you hear Lekubarri? My task is to protect you.
By throwing us off the ship? Michael shot back, flinging his free arm up at the airship; it was rapidly shrinking into the sky above them. What about them?
Their task is to deliver the bomb, she replied. To prepare the way- She paused, stretching her soul out as they neared the ground. They impacted with a spray of water and mud, landing inelegantly but without injury. Sobriquet spat out a mouthful of filth and sprang to her feet, glaring at Amira.
You couldnt have given us so warning? she demanded.
Horrible realization settled into Michaels gut as he rose to his own feet, looking up at the distant airship; it droned onwards, still pressing towards the center. Lekubarri didnt want to know his plan, Michael said quietly. He knew Id never let him do it.
Sobriquets eyes snapped wide. No, she breathed. No, Zabala and Antolin are there-
Michael shifted his view upwards and was back on the airship once more, watching Antolin round on Lekubarri. -said we would throw it out the back! the grand marshal growled.
Lekubarri laughed. I believe you will find that you said that, he replied. I rely stated that Amira would ensure that everything essential made it off the ship. Which it has. He clucked his tongue at Antolin. Really, I did try to discourage you from coming along. If you must leave, you may try your luck with the fortins. Or a parachute. I will be staying here, though.
The anger faded from Antolins face. How did you not have a better plan than this? he muttered. You always have a plan; you always have two of them. How can this be what you chose?
Jaun Errea, Im usually plotting against incompetents and the cognitively impaired; the Batzar leaves ample room to maneuver. This is not ndoza and his ilk, though, nor is it the squabbling southern countries. This is the end of the world. He turned to look back at Antolin. There was no smile on his face.
We dont have Leire. The enemy is far beyond us. We only have the wit and ttle of ndian to draw upon. Its blood, failing that, and mine runs as red as any of her sons. He turned back to the front, looking out the window. His hand pushed on a lever to his right, and the airship began to slowly tilt downward, its tortured frawork screaming under the stress.
Zabala grunted and adjusted his stance, his eyes closed in concentration. A trickle of blood snaked down from his nose, painting his chin. Antolin looked at him, then turned to follow Lekubarris gaze as the clouds were slowly replaced by a view of water upon the ground.
I dont think you can spare your fortins, Antolin said quietly. And I doubt I would fare well with a parachute, considering how close we are to our destination. He laid his hand on Lekubarris shoulder. Let . My soul will guide my hands.
Lekubarri stood, gesturing to the seat; Antolin quickly slid into it and grabbed the wheel. That does make things easier, Lekubarri admitted, withdrawing a slim black box from his vest pocket. He slid back its cover to reveal a large switch, as well as a keyhole. From another pocket he withdrew a silver key, which he turned in the device. The button lit.
He leaned on the back of Antolins chair as the grand marshal finished pitching down the airship; he worked another lever and a shuddering hiss ca from the gas envelope above. The airships altitude began to noticeably drop.
Lekubarris thumb slid over the button, depressing it with a solid click. It remained firmly clamped there, just as his eyes stayed locked on the shining crater drawing ever-closer.
I must say, its been a pleasure working with you, Lekubarri said.
Antolin snorted. Would that I could say the sa.
Just kiss already, Zabala muttered, opening his eyes to take in the view. His lips drew back from his teeth, showing a bloody rictus of effort; a vein on his forehead stood out.
Lekubarri raised an eyebrow at him. If youd like to get off-
We need to be as close as possible, and this thing will fall apart the mont I loosen my grip, if not before, Zabala rasped. Im staying. Soone has to remind the world what ndian ans. Ive been waiting for my chance ever since I started following Michael. We keep our promises. Gu gara argia.
The crater filled the whole window, its reflective expanse shining with reflections from the light at its center. Antolins hands moved with small motions, precise and controlled, until that light was shining directly ahead of them. We are the light, the grand marshal murmured. Well said. For ndian, then.
ndian, Lekubarri agreed, straightening up; he raised the device in his hand.
ndian, Zabala gasped, blood dripping from his face. My soul to-
Lekubarri let the device fall from his hand, and Michaels vision went white.
He reeled backward in a flood of light and warmth; Sobriquet cried out beside him. Hot air raked the ground, and water sprayed up in foul-slling steam, reeking of rotting matter and churned dirt, of ozone and ashes.
The light faded quickly, replaced by a slowly-rising cloud from the crater. It grew up as a twin of the tree that had sprouted in Gharon, albeit smaller and slower, even as the clouds at its periphery shuddered and began to shred apart.
Michael stood, turning his back on it to help Sobriquet up from the mud. His chest ached with borrowed light. Three fires burned there to join the multitudes, each scorching their own brief mark into him before fading seamlessly into the whole. Are you all right? he asked.
Fine, she said dully, rising to her feet. Tears streaked through the mud on her face as she turned toward the cloud. We still have work to do.
He wavered for a mont, on the brink of saying more, but Michael felt the resolute beat of her heart and turned towards the slowly-rising cloud. Amira? he asked.
Of course. Her soul was already stretched around them, sheltering them from the bombs aftereffects. The wind quieted, though, leaving the water still and steaming. Ti to run, she said.
Michael nodded and broke into a sprint. The three of them raced across the puddles and low mud ridges, their feet slamming down with enough force to raise a trail of spray. His own soul went ahead of them to firm their path, stealing the heat away until the mud fird and the water froze.
Nothing barred their path. There was nothing left. Fires burned where bits of wood had been left sticking up from the mud, and a low haze of steam obscured their view, but nothing impeded Michaels view. Their path was inexorable, like falling. He could move nowhere but to the center, towards the pull of what lay there.
And sothing did remain, at the center of it all. They reached the rim of the crater just as sullen dawn was fighting its way through the clouds. At its center, with water still rushing back in to fill what had been blasted away, there was a horrible mass of pain and wailing, of gnashing teeth and grasping hands-
But there was only a single man, his flesh scarred and twisted. Michaels vision swam with two truths, both screaming outward from the middle of that ruined pit. He slid to a halt in the mud, forcing himself to look down at it, to settle the reality of it in his mind.
Sobriquet halted beside him, and Amira so distance behind.
Michael took one steadying breath, then walked towards the dawn.
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