We have to grieve on our own time, Sarii. “no, this is exactly the time. The tyrants are cracking down, but the summit shows how desperate they are. With Nevri dead and the Rebirth engine gone, two of the five tyrants have been shaken, even with Dlella as executor. They all have their honor guards with them at the summit. That means the tower must be relatively unprotected. And if we occupy the forces that are left elsewhere, the force at the tower will be able to finish the task and turn the tide.”
“What target is big enough to pull all of the forces from the tower?” Selweh asked.
Wonlar shook his head. “Two targets.”
“How are we going to cover three missions with five Shields?” Rova asked. “We’d have to send one person each to the distractions, and that only leaves three of us for the tower.”
Wonlar shook his head. “I’m going alone. Two for each distraction strike. We’ll need at least that many to draw their reinforcements. I want to hear suggestions for targets.” he left no room for disagreement, tried to stare down Sarii as she moved to object. He felt the gold bands binding each of them to his heart tug as he tried to drag them along with his idea. “We have to do this, now. It’s our only chance.”
Aegis set down his mug of tea. “That’s idiotic. You need as many people on the tower as you can. Let us make the distractions first, then regroup and go for the tower.” First Sentinel flinched at the “idiotic,” his nostrils flaring. He tried to calm himself, thinking, He doesn’t want to lose me, and I can’t blame him. I may not be that lucky again.
Sabreslate’s stone became a miniature First Sentinel, pin-cushioned with bolts and arrows and blades. “You’re talking about a suicide run. What’s that going to get us?”
Wonlar ignored the question. “Where could two of us with Shield-bearer backup cause enough trouble to draw forces from the tower?”
Rova knocked on the table, inspiration striking. “The mint in Heartstown.”
Wonlar cocked his head, considering. “It’s close, and important enough to be a real target. We’ll need explosives, and we’d have to form a perimeter so we could maintain the position, which will take either Ghost Hands or Sabreslate. And then we’ll need someone to hold the line, Sapphire, or Aegis, or me. We couldn’t do it with just one.” no one argued. “We can use the explosives I’ve got stocked in lower Ribs. But that’s the last of it.”
Sarii huffed. “This isn’t what we need to be doing right now.”
Selweh said, “we can’t do anything less. As long as the tyrants have control of the City Mother, nothing we do will be able to stir the people to revolution. The mob at the bank was motivated by greed more than anything, and they broke under pressure too quickly. But we did get some money, and Aegis destroyed much of the metal reserves. They’ll need to mint new bills soon.”
“And if we destroy the mint…,” Aegis said.
Sarii crossed her arms and her stone shifted back into the cat, which made another circle in place before settling down again. “Just wait until this explodes in your face and none of us are here to save you.”
She’s in.
“It’s too soon for you to go out alone,” Selweh said. Now who’s the overprotective father?
Wonlar smiled, try to show confidence. Selweh was probably right. But who else could free the City Mother? “I’ve fought through worse. And no one knows the layout of the tower like I do; none of the rest of you have been in the City Mother’s presence before—i have the best chance of getting through to her. I can move faster by myself, get to the top in time for you all to make your escape. And if we free the City Mother, everything changes. With her power supporting the citizens instead of being made to suppress them, we can start riots like the bank every week, build guerilla armies inside the city, and finally turn the tide.”
Wonlar waited a beat for their answers. Rova perked up, almost ready to say something, then stopped. Sarii leaned back to play with her stone, head inclined towards Bira. Doubtless they were talking mind-to-mind. Aegis looked to Wonlar, his eyes racing. City Mother, give us the wisdom to choose the right path.
Bira broke the silence without making a sound. [The other target should form a rough equilateral triangle with the mint and the tower. What is in that area?]
Wonlar pulled a roll from the seat beside him and spread out a crinkled and faded lambskin map from the Republic era, written over in charcoal and ink. If the tyrants took the time to communicate, they could guess our game. But even if they didn’t, they’re not going to just let us get away with these strikes.
Wonlar looked at the map and extrapolated the triangle in his mind. Headtown. Headtown was the site of luxurious homes owned by the richest collaborators, extensive parks with immaculately-kept shrubbery and countless office buildings sculpted by the finest Jalvai architects on the payroll of the tyrants.
“Hit any of the big office buildings and they’ll come running,” Selweh said, then shakes his head. “But we can do better.” Keep thinking out loud. We need to make five minds into one. Bira used to link their minds at meetings, but it hadn’t been worth the effort to sort out the jumble and the stray inklings from the conscious thoughts.
Wonlar nodded. “We can. The Headtown barracks is too hot for anything but a hit-and-run strike, but that will draw emergency units, not guards. Hostage situation?” he asked.
Bira considered his question. “Protracted, guaranteed to draw interested parties. We’d have to time it just right, though, since when they get enough backup they’ll go straight for the kill.”
Wonlar stood, and then returned to his roll of maps. “Good. Let’s look at the floor plans from Naako and we’ll pick the best target. If possible, I’d like to have you give our regards to Dr. Herron.”
Naako had designed half of the newer houses in Headtown and grown rich off of it. A few years ago, after her cousin was disappeared by Nevri’s goons, she had a change of heart. Douk got wind of her efforts to contact the Shields and arranged a meeting. She’d pledged an impressive amount of money and even better, her records. Wonlar had floor plans of every house she built, secret passageways and all.
“You’ll keep out of the line of fire, several rooms inside, with one Shield holding the hostages, the other keeping an eye on the perimeter.” Now, for the assignments.
“Aegis, I want you and Sabreslate to take the hostages. Sabreslate, you’ll be able to modify the house to help keep yourselves secure, and Aegis will watch the perimeter, make the demands. We’ll need to bring in some Shieldbearers for extra hands.”
Wonlar turned to Rova and Bira. “That puts you two at the mint. I’ll provide the explosives. Get in and blow the door behind you, it’ll slow them down. Then get into the mint and be sure you locate the plates. Even if I fail, I want at least one mission to succeed.”
Selweh nodded. He was as good a son and soldier as anyone could ask for. Maybe one day, he’d have the chance to just be a good man. Have children of his own. Wonlar saw the jade thread that hung from Rova’s heart and draped across the floor toward Aegis, obscured by his tightly-woven threads in gold and bronze. And maybe they can even do something about that.
“We’ll strike tomorrow, before they can get too far done with the summit. Word has it they’re still quibbling over some tariff rates. Until their security forces get integrated, they’ll fight each other for the honor of killing us.”
Wonlar saw the nods of assent and the chiseled disapproval on Sabreslate’s face. She’ll do her part, she always has. Chip away the blocks of cynicism and antagonism and there was a patriot inside that woman. The rest was just armor to protect the artist’s heart.
Wonlar took a deep breath and his eyes slid to a blanket in the corner, draped over a motionless form.
“Now it’s time to pay our respects.”
* * *
The Shields took the rest of the day dodging patrols and working around border guards to reach the stake purchased by the first Aegis at the edge of hook’s hole.
As so
on as they passed the first switch-back, the Shields stopped and unrolled the bundle they’d snuck through the city. Sabreslate went to the wall and rolled out a large boulder, shaping it into a coffin, with patterns of the Pronai’s Great wheel and a perfect likeness of Wenlizerachi in his Shield’s raiment.
When she was done, Rova and Selweh picked up the stone coffin, and Wonlar led the way with a lantern. They had never bothered to leave any lights in the hall, each time hoping they’d never have to go back to fill another berth.
Their steps rang hollow in the grey-brown tunnel as they left Audec-Hal proper, making their way into the cliffs between the legs.
It had been three years since they buried Aernah, the last Aegis. Back when Selweh was Second Sentinel. Blurred Fists had been only been a Shield for two years.
They passed the hall of Aegis, four coffins side by side. The name of each to carry the mantle was inscribed on the side of their coffin, testament to their memory and their service.
Wonlar lingered for a moment on aria’s tomb, third in the row, and laid two freshly-bloomed crocuses on the coffin, one for Selweh and one for himself. The group moved to the far end of the room, leaving him alone with the coffin. The inscription showed her first Shield name, Valence, from when she used her Spark-touched ability, as well as her time as the fourth Aegis, after their marriage and their love were torn apart by his power.
Wonlar knelt, hands folded over the stone hands carved in her likeness. Selweh is still safe. It’ll be over soon. I’m sorry for what I did, for not making amends before it was too late. I love you and I miss you.
After a minute of silence, he stood and turned from her coffin. For a moment, the shadows play a trick on him and he thought he saw a fifth coffin in the hall, Selweh’s name beside the others.
The light moved and it was gone.
The Shields passed three more rooms to reach the first open space just beyond Qojimata’s coffin, laid in six years ago. They’d lost eighteen Shields in total over the fifty years. In terms of a war, it wasn’t many, compared to the thousands of citizens who had perished under the tyrant’s reign but every one of them was a dear friend.
Wonlar break the silence. “Here.” Sabreslate stepped up in her woven-stone raiment, and raised her hands to the cavern wall. Turquoise lines of empathy extended from her hands and burrowed their way into the wall. The stone shifted out of the way, forming a smooth room just tall enough for Sapphire to pass her head underneath. Sabreslate left an elevated platform, and Sapphire lifted the coffin up onto the corner. Aegis lifted up his side, and the two strongest Shields slid the coffin into place.
Sabreslate knelt next to the coffin, and traced Wenlizerachi’s name by hand, then his Shield-name, Blurred Fists. She stood, and turned to face the other four in the circle.
The service was his duty, his burden. He’d spoken sixteen of them, taking over after the two done by the original Aegis.
“We gather today in the hall of Broken Shields to remember our comrade Blurred Fists.”
The voices of the other Shields’ echoed in the cavern and in his mind. “Blurred Fists.” [Blurred Fists.]
Wonlar put a hand on the coffin. “Born Wenlizerachi, of the Pronai, he gave five years of service to Audec-Hal, and would have given more had he been able. His speed saved many lives, including my own, and those of his fellow Shields. He will not be forgotten.”
“He will not be forgotten.” [He will not be forgotten.]
Wonlar set a morning lily on the coffin, just bloomed that day, that would fold back up again by night. The Pronai had chosen it as their flower to remind them of the beauty of a brief life.
“His shield is broken now, his service at an end. And so we commit his body to the stone beside the great city of Audec-Hal, that he might return again to race the everlasting Race.”
Wonlar continued. “Rest now, brother. You will not be forgotten.”
The Shields echoed him again. “You will not be forgotten.” [You will not be forgotten.]
Sapphire stood over the coffin, drew two fingers to her lips, and then rested them on the carving of Wenlizerachi’s face. She stepped back, and Aegis approached, repeating the gesture. Sabreslate went third. Ghost Hands bowed her head beside the coffin, and then stepped back. Wonlar was last as he was first, letting the tears come freely in this private moment. He touched fingers to his lips, and then rested those fingers on his friend’s coffin. Wenlizerachi was the fourth member of the family he’d buried here. There were none from the house of chi left to take up the name.
Wonlar -spoke in a whisper too soft for any to hear but the ghosts which inhabit the hall. “I’m sorry.”
The Shields stood silent in the chamber for a half-hour, each saying their personal goodbyes. Their respects paid, the Shields departed, each knowing that the next mission might be the last for one or more of them.
Ghost Hands lingered behind, asking to catch up with Sabreslate so they could seal the hall once she was done. First Sentinel walked around a corner in the hall, leaving his old friend to her thoughts.
Thirty Years ago
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ghost Hands
Thirty Years ago
We’d heard that Nevri was moving several caravans of people for “questioning,” but that was all. Not much to go on, but Valence was itching for something to do.
It was the first three of us: First Sentinel, myself, and Valence. We traveled along the rooftops, floating and swinging and doing our best to avoid notice. Most people don’t look up, save the tyrants’ guards.
The patrol was ten strong, mostly Ikanollo, with one Freithin, two Pronai, and a Qava. A well-rounded group, with versatility. We kept our distance, rather than moving to engage. First Sentinel and Valence bantered, trading boasts, joking barbs, and loving words as they steeled themselves for the coming fight.
In the field, they had the blessing and the terror of risking their lives alongside their spouses. I had to say farewell every morning or night, watch as Sarii’s eyebrows narrowed. I had to pull myself out of her tight embrace, the worry pouring forth from her mind like a waterfall.
The warlocks stopped at a crosswalk, and First Sentinel held up a hand to stop us. I hovered in place, listening to the warlock’s thoughts as best I could.
Qava philosophy speaks of each person’s mind as a house, filled with rooms. Each room was decorated and furnished with a person’s memories, their emotions, and their perspectives. When I saw into the minds of one of Yema’s warlocks, I felt a cold lifeless shack with Yema’s thoughts echoed. Little desires and instincts skittered in the corners, afraid to show themselves.
I reached out and spoke in the minds of my companions.
[Yema is giving new orders. They’re supposed to break up a demonstration on east Vein and Wexlay.]
First Sentinel responded in a voice just loud enough to carry to the three of us. “Then we head east once they round the corner.”
That took us across the vein, a divide wide enough that Valence had to shift to become as wind as First Sentinel swung almost all the way to the street, swooping close enough to people to take off a few caps, protecting heads from the winter’s chill. We raced over the rooftops to cut off the warlock patrol before they could reach Wexlay.
First Sentinel called a halt at the lip of the roof of a apartment building. They had a clear view of the intersection of East Vein and Wexlay. I felt the minds and bodies of the demonstrators, a tightly-packed mass of frustration and fear. Citizens with enough drive and will to overcome City Mother’s influence were very rare, and seemed to be getting rarer every year.
And halfway down the block, the Warlock Guard. First Sentinel called my name with his mind, and I relayed his message. [Go on three, keep the protestors safe.] First Sentinel counted with fingers as he thought the numbers.
One. Valence crouched, and switched to mimicking the strong greystone bricks of the lip of the roof.
Two. First Sentinel leveled the grapple gun at the
corner of the roof across the street.
Three. I quieted my mind and made ready.
“Go!” First Sentinel fired his grappling gun and dove off the roof. Valence stepped off the roof and let her weight carry her down. I soared above and threw a wave of force at the Warlock Guard. They scattered, some knocked back and over, others dodging out of the way. The guards lifted wands and staves, vessels for channeling the magical power which Yema had invested in each of them.
Valence’s landing cracked the cobblestones of the road. She rose immediately and charged the guards. First Sentinel swung down onto a windowsill and started throwing knives.
Several guards with long blades moved to surround Valence. I picked one of them off the ground and held him in the air out of reach. He flailed with the knife, only succeeding in spinning himself head-over-heel in place.
Steel rained down on the guards, who stuck to cover and returned fire with magical blasts in gold and green and red. Several blasts rose up towards me, and I floated out of their way. But not fast enough. A red orb seared my right knee, and I lost my concentration, tumbling towards the ground.
My fall was interrupted when First Sentinel wrapped his arms around me. Rather than landing in the middle of the melee, we crashed into the steps of the apartment building on the near side of the street.
[are you alright?], he asked hurriedly in his mind, and I raised a hand to satisfy him. I didn’t know at the time that two of my ribs were broken, just that the pain was overwhelming.
[help her, I’ll be fine.]
First Sentinel turned towards Valence, who was being mobbed by warlocks. He drew another pair of daggers. For her, he’d tear down the tower of the City Mother herself.
I watched them from the stoop, struggling to stay conscious and using what strength I had to keep warlocks away from me. With the strength and toughness of greystone, Valence could stalemate four warlocks, maybe five. But not eight or nine, even with First Sentinel distracting several with swipes of his knives.
Shield and Crocus Page 26