Over the last months, sufficient temporary structure had taken shape that the site no longer looked like a camp. No doubt, the endeavor would be the work of many years. It had started small, with more guards than anything else. Once the foothold had been established, there had been an influx of craftsmen to the point that now there were enough people in the budding city that it needed leadership more than what a foreman could provide. Grudgingly, Reuben had accepted this task, eventually won over by Lucius, the new head of the council of Entigria. It had taken a bit of convincing, though Reuben had agreed to go ahead once he had the assurance that Braldoan would have the full support of its parent city. Without that, he had said, he would walk away from the responsibility that was being strongly hinted belonged to him. Part of him was thankful for the duty, else he would have had to figure out where to go next. The pub only held so much charm for him anymore, despite Donovan’s urging to stay on there, and he doubted he could find much contentment in the rank and file again. Reuben felt he needed a task to work at, something that would keep him busy and provide a structure.
Reuben had no desire for traveling much either, but there was nowhere left for him within Entigria. He had never really liked the capital, no matter how many times he’d been there. Braldoan, he knew deep in his heart, would always be his home, even with the painful memories it held for him. It was not easy to return, as memories still haunted his dreams. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that new memories could be forged here, if he let them. It was not an easy task, though he was trying his best. Watching the crews at work helped him feel a sense of a new beginning.
“It’s coming along well,” Reuben said, turning to his companion in the dusty, open-air tent that served as the daytime command post.
Pim looked up from the blueprints on a makeshift table of crates and planks she had been studying, “You think so? I admit, it’s better than I had thought it would be, but they’ll never finish the walls in time for winter,” she observed.
Reuben walked over and patted her on the shoulder, “That just means my Captain of the Guard will have to keep her eyes open,” Reuben said.
“Temporary Captain, you mean,” said Pim, “I’m just holding the position until Vern finishes his training.”
Reuben was about to reply but a sound nearby distracted him; workers were cheering as the final stone on another section was completed. “What do you think you’ll do then?” asked Reuben.
Pim resumed surveying the prints, saying, “I’m not sure. Tibs is free now. He took over for Gavin.”
Reuben was half-listening, tied up with a troublesome thought. It was strange to him, to see the workers so cheerful; he could not remember being happy for a long time now. That was not the right word though, he’d laughed at times, but that did not equal contentment. He wanted the simple joy he saw with the workers, without the complications of life. He wanted a simple task with a simple pleasure to be reaped at its end. He marveled that a wall, so simple a thing, could mean so much to everyone that would benefit from it. “I thought for sure you’d be head of that little organization,” Reuben commented over his shoulder.
Pim’s fingers tapped idly, “Nah, I don’t like Subria much anymore. It’s not the same there and besides, I think I’m due for a change,” she said. “Might stay on here if it’s not too boring. This place will need spicing up, especially if it’s really going to succeed as a city again.”
“Oh, I see,” Reuben chuckled, “Tibs works Entigria and you land here. Planning on setting up a little trade route already, eh?”
“It’s a job,” Pim replied, but Reuben saw the hint of sadness that she could not hide around her eyes. He was worried about that look, seen at intervals, but was unsure just what to do about it. There seemed to be some unspoken agreement between them. Partly he was relieved, life for him had been either too dull or far too exciting for more years now than he cared to think about. He needed to figure out what normal was again. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; the other half of his mind tried to counter by pointing out things about himself that needed attention. So far, he had drowned them out.
A messenger walked up at the moment, business-like but waiting to be called on. Reuben waved him in, taking the covered parcel full of reports. Reports. If he’d known just how much of his time would be taken up now with paperwork, he thought wryly, he might have declined this position altogether. It had to be done though, just like everything else. Someone needed to know what was going on and plan ahead accordingly. Reuben thanked the courier and went over to his chair to begin looking through them. He scanned them half-heartedly, feeling restlessness. He kept his eyes focused on the words, doing his best not to appear as fidgety as he felt.
When the weight of the endless missives, supply orders, and other documents became too much to consider, Reuben got up to walk around, just to stretch his legs and give his mind a rest. He did this many times in the afternoon; inevitably, his steps always took him round to the outskirts, where he could have some semblance of solitude. So it was now, as he looked towards where the heart of the city had once been. He resolved, as the sun wound its way towards the horizon, that soon, very soon, he would make good on a promise he had made to himself ever since he’d known that the world wasn’t going to end after all.
* * *
“The reports I got today indicated a good rate of remission,” Reuben said. “I know there are some that say it’ll take a long time, but no matter how you look at it, it’s better than when we first got here, that’s for sure.” He was alone now, sitting in a large room, quite nicely furnished in comparison to most of the temporary dwellings, with a modest but well-made desk and a polished, full-length silver mirror set in a corner. He had tried to downplay the even moderate attempt at extravagance, insisting on adding his own personal touches that kept him grounded. The place was not kept too tidy either, another little rebellion of the unease he felt. He felt a proper exhibitionist, having his own separate wooden one-story house. He would feel worse, he knew, when it was the real thing. Reuben knew that leadership meant playing the part, however, and that meant having good quarters.
He was now well underway with his weekly meeting with Lucius, at the end of another busy day. The mirror had been pulled in front of the desk. In front of the mirror was a small metal bowl on the ground, full of broken Karthild chips. The image on the mirror, covered in the dust that got everywhere, was a little grainy, but the magic held.
On the shimmering surface of the mirror, Lucius moved closer, and for Reuben his nose filled the image. Lucius had not quite judged the distance correctly in any of their conversations to date, and Reuben derived more enjoyment from it than he would ever admit. “They say,” Lucius contrived to whisper as if he were right next to him, “That it’s happening all over now, not just the areas surrounding Entigria and Braldoan.” His eyebrows wiggled up and down, like someone revealing a particularly juicy tidbit of gossip.
“That’s good news,” Reuben responded, “If it’s really true, we will have things back far quicker than the time it took for them to burn; but why the secrecy?”
Lucius’s head moved back, as he finally figured out the correct position to hold himself, “I just wanted you to hear it first. We’re making an announcement here tomorrow. Just think, a green world again.”
“It’s hard to believe sometimes,” Reuben said. The first regrowth had been noticed only a few days after the forces on the cinder plains had abruptly left. Their coming had been forecast by many days of approaching smoke; yet their departure was swift. He’d seen some of the portals, imps cowed by the commanding presence of the smoke knights, all leaving together. If he had not known the forces at work behind what was happening there, he’d have been as perturbed as the rest of the city. It had taken three days before Entigria lowered its barrier, only to discover that there were green sprouts of grass on the fields already, fighting to reclaim the ground from the ashes that were being blown away on the breezes.
>
Reuben came back to matters at hand, “And what about Vern?” he asked. It had been his idea, it seemed a good notion to him for the former bandit to end up working on the side of the law. To his credit, Vern had agreed, thinking it best to spend his time doing his own part to help sow order in places where once he had been an agent of chaos and destruction.
“Oh, he grumbles and cusses a fair bit.” Lucius said, “Though my captain says he’s doing well. Actually, I might just want to have him around periodically. It’s really quite endearing the way he upsets people.”
Reuben laughed, “Well, ask him what he’d like. I don’t mind so long as he visits here first and whips my lot into shape.”
“Agreed,” said Lucius. Then after a pause, he said in a thoughtful tone of voice, “You know, it’s weird.”
“I know, I know,” said Reuben, thinking along the same lines, “Who’d have thought it, the likes of us being where we are now?”
Lucius replied, “Some say it’s fate for the heroes to lead.”
Reuben grimaced, “Let’s call it something else.”
Realization of what he’d said hit Lucius suddenly. “Good point,” he gulped. He tried to change the subject, “And what about you?”
“Oh, I grumble and cuss a fair bit too,” said Reuben, but a smile played about his lips.
“I bet. But really, how are you? Last time we talked you started to mention something,” Lucius said.
Reuben watched as Lucius turned aside for a moment, waving his arms and handing a few papers from his own impressive desk. Reuben thought he could see a messenger just in the corner of the image. He was grateful for the interruption, having wished he’d kept his inner thoughts to himself earlier.
“Sorry about that,” said Lucius, a look of puzzlement on his face, “I do beg pardon, what were we talking about?”
“You were mentioning the progress on the land returning to normal,” said Reuben.
Lucius’s face scrunched up, like he wasn’t quite sure that had been it, but Reuben remained carefully attentive. “Oh, well-”
He halted as Reuben held up a hand, his ears and brain having finally delivered something to his consciousness that had stood out as odd to him from earlier in their conversation, “Really?” he said, “Heroes? They call us that?”
“Every day,” said Lucius with a wide grin.
* * *
Small clouds of dust rose as each foot hit the ground. The lonely landscape was being disturbed again by a solitary figure that picked his way carefully forward. Reuben had taken this journey alone. The day had been busy, as usual, but not with work. Today had been a celebration day, by his order, to make merry and rest from labor. Their progress had been good, they deserved a break, he’d told them. It also afforded him the rare moment where, if he were to slip away for a few hours, nothing too urgent would arise in his absence. Now, he stood about an hour’s walk from the location of the work site.
He’d not even told Pim where he was going, which he was sure he’d get a chiding about when he returned. He hoped she’d understand though, he needed to do this. The cinder lands had rested in Braldoan long enough to eat away and destroy most of what had been there, but some of the largest buildings nearer the town center still had a few bits of rubble. Even here, Reuben noticed, the land was being changed. The scouts had not toured the whole former city grounds, yet the land was no longer being devoured, though the transformation was gradual. This far from where they’d begun, there was still plenty of cinder, now cold and dead. He had to be careful as he was walking, the odd large stone almost blending in with the ash that was receding like snow in a strong sun. Ahead, he was pretty sure he could spot what he’d been searching for.
He halted, there could be no doubt about it. Nothing not made of hard rock remained, of course, but he was too familiar with the large stones that had made the cathedral. He felt a rush of emotion, he was back. Memory took over, the ingrained pattern of his long toil. He recalled the days and years of his work here. He took one purposeful step forward, and another. Reuben walked again the circuit of his old guard. In his mind he saw it all once more, vivid and clear, the dichotomous land of snow and fire separated by the shimmering barrier. Grey-blue sky above contrasted with red not a stone’s throw from the barrier. The falling snow, the strange world he had lived in next to the burning ground outside. He almost stumbled, thinking of those last days when his mother would huddle by a small fire, knitting away at whatever small project her fingers could still muster the dexterity to complete. Unconsciously, fully enveloped in his waking memory, his arms were making vague swinging motions, just as if he were carrying a censer.
Lost in the moment, Reuben paused to work on some weak portion of the barrier, mouthing what mumbled prayers he could think of while in his secret heart he wondered again, “Will today be the last?” For a long while he worked away, guiding smoke that was not there to cracks that no longer existed. After several minutes, Reuben straightened up, free hand rubbing his sore back, and he continued, just like he had done before. The steady task had always been a mixture of gratitude and trepidation as the time droned on and the battle was lost inch by inch. He knew that he could not stop it. And again, “Will the gods finally help?” he wondered in his heart.
“You made it so,” said a friendly voice.
Reuben snapped out of his reverie. He dropped his arms slowly, self-conscious at being caught in his little ritual. “Part of me wondered if you’d show up,” he said.
“This is a hallowed path,” Ibdal said, approaching Reuben, “Would you allow me to walk it with you?”
Reuben shrugged, “Suit yourself.”
The two figures paced slowly. Reuben tried to remember what the city was like before the fires, before the fall. It was difficult; he had avoided the cathedral for the most part before. By the time he had paid attention, already so much had changed. He wondered if he would ever be able to walk here without feeling that sense of hopelessness that had accompanied him here. Casually, he turned his head to Ibdal, “I thought you folks couldn’t just pop in here like this.”
It was Ibdal’s turn to shrug, “Fortunes have changed. This is a different time.”
“I see,” said Reuben. They had gone several more steps forward when he stopped suddenly, “I’ve got to know,” he said.
Ibdal raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”
“Lucius wouldn’t tell me, no matter how much I pried. Come on, what did he use on those discs he gave Vern?” Reuben asked.
Ibdal bowed smiling, “Nothing,” he answered.
“Nothing? What?” said Reuben.
“The discs were not inscribed yet. You think the poor fellow had time to figure out Arneph and his barrier, then construct a stone and set it? He hadn’t even realized the extent of the damage to his workshop when he was caught,” Ibdal said.
Reuben was quite confused, and looked it, “Why did they do anything then?” he asked.
“The same reason you walked this path, Reuben. The smallest part of you held on to faith, to hope.” Ibdal looked deeply at Reuben, his voice kind but also solemn, “I can always find a way in, if people give me the smallest opening. In that, my brother Arneph and I are most alike.”
Reuben let the words settle on him. He was not entirely pleased by the answer, but he felt he was unlikely to get a better explanation if he prodded further. He turned to the next question, “Arneph and Eustace, what will happen with them?”
The smile faded a little and Ibdal sighed, “Arneph is kept as prisoner, for now. He will eventually be free, in the fullness of time. Maybe ages and ages from now, maybe sooner. He is fate and luck, his eventual freedom is inevitable. He may change though, in the long time in-between this day and that. Though he is ever at odds with himself, there is hope for him.”
“And Eustace?” said Reuben, not pleased at all at what he had heard.
“He is…not yet ready. The process of extracting Arneph scarred him deeply. It would be cruel to bring him back n
ow. He is with Zuetal currently, soon he will be with Aigid. It is my hope that in spending time with us he may truly be healed and return to spend his days out repairing what he had been a part of. Many oppose my solution for him, but I remind them that it was your urging that led to this outcome to begin with.”
“And my words carry that much weight?” asked Reuben.
“Not just yours. But, yes. You and those that walked with you in our realm before times changed will forever have a special connection to us,” said Ibdal, as they resumed their course.
Reuben was troubled. He knew he didn’t have to understand how things worked entirely, yet some things niggled when they didn’t seem to fit. “It’s that simple then?” asked Reuben.
Ibdal replied, “Simple? No, not simple at all. There were years of toil first, this path we’re on now, buried in the ash not being the least of it, that lent a credibility to your heart that could not be overlooked. Many were the prayers of this world, and I heeded them as well. But with you and those that came with you, you provided those of us that wished things to be different the means by which to achieve that goal.”
“Those of us,” said Reuben, “So, there is division still?”
“Oh yes. That is the way of things. But there is peace, for now. For many, many turning of the seasons and generations to come. At least, it is to be hoped.”
As they walked along, Reuben wondered at what he was being told. It made sense to him in a way, but it didn’t at the same time. He was about to ask another question when he realized that he was alone again. He was stuck there, standing on the path, between frustration and perplexity. He felt lonely as he looked out over the sad place. It would be victoriously rebuilt, but for now it was empty, devoid of life. Suddenly he was not so glad that he had come. He stood and watched while his heart and mind wrestled over the words spoken to him.
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