Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  The tiers did not always lend themselves to a speedy travel path on the best of days, and right now, it was beginning to become utter chaos. Guards were helping the best they could on the upper tiers. Some inhabitants were already hunkered down , with the warmth of hearth behind them, looking out their windows at their neighbors scrambling to get goods under cover.

  The casual attitude of the people already inside reminded him that many would not care if those of the lower tiers perished due to trampling or drowning as they tried to save what little they had. He shook his head clear of these grim thoughts, crossing the fourth tier gate as he did.

  As he crossed into the third tier, nicer shops had boarded up their windows. Thankfully, it appeared as though they had also assisted more of their neighbors securing windows and doors. Levielle could see the streets were almost empty. The few windows not boarded gave him an opportunity to see that the occupants were preparing inside as well. The women were setting out candles and rations. The men were preparing their raingear and tools in case something broke.

  The rain fell harder, and the road was practically a stream. Levielle finally caught a glimpse of the bay when he rounded the gate into the second tier. The few remaining ships bobbed and swayed heavily from side to side in the increasing wind.

  As the clouds darkened, he finally made it to a lieutenant that was directing some people as his men stood guard at the gate. Almost blinded by the rain driven into his face, the young officer started to direct Levielle away before realizing his rank. The man snapped to attention and saluted smartly.

  “Lieutenant! How many men do you have at the gate to the first tier?” he shouted above the ongoing din of wind, rain and people. Standing there, he wished he would have grabbed some warmer clothing, but he set himself to ignore the cold, pushing it to the side.

  “Sir! We have a normal guard squad there. Six men total. They are there as ordered b-”

  “Call them down here. Send runners to the rest of the posts. We need to make sure that as many people survive as possible; direct them to the storehouses quickly, before the stone mages seal them against the storm. I have been told this storm is going to be a behemoth! He turned to make his way down the rest of the way to the trench. When he looked back at the man, he had not moved - a group of men in raingear was distracting him.

  “Get these people to the storehouses and safety!” Levielle repeated, sharper this time.

  “But, sir!” The man stammered a moment before quickly shutting his mouth. Levielle spun on his heel and took the few steps back to plant himself in front of the junior officer. He was not used to having his orders questioned.

  “I’m positive that my order was not lost to the wind, lieutenant!” Levielle growled with authority. “This is an order from your general! Now, make it happen or I will throw you in a dungeon cell myself!”

  The man only nodded, fear showing on his face and in his eyes; he knew as well as Levielle did that the prison was likely flooded. Levielle moved away before the man could say more; he had an army to get to and a trench to save. His footfalls splashed through puddles that brought chilling rain to above his knees as he moved quickly toward the barracks.

  Once there, he ducked in the door without hesitation, dropping his cowl and pausing just a moment to savor being out of the rain. The men within were between watches or working on paperwork from their shift, but the man on the door recognized him immediately and came to attention.

  “General! We were not expecting your presence today.” Even caught by surprise the guard’s tones were well-schooled and measured.

  Levielle paid little attention to the man. There was no time for civilities. “Soldier, I need you to gather all the men and materials you have and bring them to the testing ring on the third tier.” He moved past the man as he spoke, expecting him to follow and listen. The main common room was before him, about half-full of soldiers playing dice or sleeping away their off hours.

  The soldier behind him cleared his throat and spoke loudly. “Attention!”

  A flurry of activity met this announcement; Levielle was proud that the men under his command moved with such swiftness. Only the sound of rain and wind could heard after the din of shuffling feet died down. He cleared his throat once he was sure he had their attention.

  “This is an evacuation notice of all men in uniform. We are moving all equipment and personnel to the testing ring on the third tier. You are also hereby ordered to assist in the movement of all civilians that can fit into that ring as well. The storm mages expect a massive wave, perhaps several, to strike the city within the next two hours; as such, lives will be lost if any of us, or the occupants of the lower tiers, remain here. Am I clear?” Levielle spoke loud and true for every ear to hear him. The response was short and curt.

  “Sir… Yes… Sir!” The voices rang out in unison. The room went silent once more.

  “You have your orders. Dismissed!” He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching as the once quiet men moved in a frenzy. Leisure items and clothing were stowed, men yelled to one another. Occupants of the floors above began tossing things down to the first level. They were preparing for evacuation with adequate efficiency. Moving toward the entrance, the general hurried to exit. He had one last stop before he could follow his men to the ring. The warning had to be carried to the trench too.

  Tossing his cowl back over his head, he began running to the nearest ramp down to the trench – there were three where goods would brought up from the harbor and one in from the plains to the first tier. He slowed as he saw the mass of people surrounding the nearest ramp’s archway. It was no longer an opening, but a stone wall. Even as a military man who had seen the carnage of the battlefield, he was shocked and sickened.

  Bits of clothing stuck out of the rock - a hand here, an arm there. As he watched, a hand clutched at the air before it slowly turned to stone. This could only be the work of a stone mage. They had thrown up a wall to keep the inhabitants of the trench in the trench! They had no regard for the fact that they caught innocent travelers in the forming of the wall as they tried to escape to higher ground. This was the High Minister’s doing. Levielle could feel it in his bones and his fists tightened at his sides in anger at the injustice.

  People shouted, trying to claw and free those trapped within the stone even though the general could see it was a futile attempt. Looking on in near shock, Levielle finally broke free of the horrible spell that locked his gaze to the newly formed stone. He moved through the mass of people to find two of the soldiers that were guarding there.

  “We need hammers!” Looking to his right he saw a couple of men approaching with tools. Hurriedly, he motioned them to the wall, “Break it down! We need to get to those on the other side!” The men nodded as they began their work, chipping at the hard stone.

  Turning to the guards and group of people, he shouted above the rain and clanging of hammers and chisels. “Everyone else, move to the training ring! It’s for your safety!” Motioning up the stairs as he spoke. A loud murmur spread through the crowd as some immediately moved toward the upper tiers.

  “You have to go, now!”

  Pushing one of the guards out of the way, people began to move up the ramp at once. Levielle stood by the men with the hammers. Finding a spare leaning against the wall, he took it up. He grunted when the first swing landed on the hard rock face. He was seeing the horrible result of Luthian’s plan - the horror that would take place in the trenches - and it angered him. All those lives, families, children, washed away by the storm. Luthian was turning a bad situation into one of opportunity to rid himself of the inhabitants of the trench.

  He swung again, the hammer digging at the stone.

  He heard an audible gasp from the people on the tier above, as if all the air had been sucked out of their lungs at one time. He looked up to see shock… no terror… on the faces that looked toward the sea. Then someone screamed and another voice joined theirs until everyone was screaming, pu
shing and shoving to go up, to flee, to escape. It was bedlam. He felt the wave rather than saw it. Tremors pulsed through the ground as it thundered into the harbor. The screams of people around Levielle went unanswered. He could hear the shouts of those trapped on the other side, clawing at the wall, trying to climb for freedom. His arms burned as he made rapid strikes at the stone face, but he kept up it up in a now futile attempt to save the inhabitants of the trench. His hammer was raised when the wall of water breached over the stone and silenced the screams on both sides of the wall.

  Chapter Six

  Caterine could hardly contain herself. She’d had a private meeting with the High Minister! She was giddy from the mere thought of what they had planned together. They were now a team - partners. The rain tried to dampen her spirits, but it was unsuccessful. She had changed into simple grey robes and tied her hair back. The matching grey cloak had a deep cowl, hiding her face from any discerning eye. In any case, the grey matched the day and the stone surroundings, so she would be invisible while she accomplished her assignment for Luthian. She sighed. He had asked her to address him by his given name. They were going to be close. This task was just the beginning of their work together.

  She felt no repugnance at what she was assigned to do. She had no love of the constant begging, manipulation and sometimes-direct thievery of those without magic. She was not concerned about the loss of tradesmen, for most with any decent skill where on a higher tier as a hand, a servant, or had enough magic to open their own shop. No, she had one goal in mind and that was pleasing the High Minister. Luthian’s kiss still lingered on her pallid lips. She could feel his strong grip on her shoulders.

  She ducked around people scurrying to prepare for the storm as she reviewed the meeting and the High Minister in her mind. She had never thought him interested in her; his taste seemed to linger on those with exotic looks or a great deal of power, and she could hardly compete with the priestess mage Lady Morana in either of these. His unexpectedly expressed interest made her giddy with what they could accomplish together! She had no doubt that her role in his life would be in the background, of course, but she was content with this. Perhaps he would even bond with her, at least long enough to have a child. A boy with all of his looks and their combined strength. She would name him Rynath after his famous great grandfather.

  She made her way through the streets. Water poured down rain gutters and into the street, running swiftly to the grates that led down into the sewers. Despite a flow system to help with run-off, the street was still deep enough in water that in places it swamped over the tops of her boots. The wind blew wildly and she had to hold the cowl down to keep it on her head. The fourth tier was absent of all but the miserable guards who took shelter under eaves near their posts.

  She descended onto the third tier. Here there was a little more activity; merchants were securing their stalls and wares. Farmers sought shelter for their wagons, brought in to sell goods directly to the townsfolk and now left vulnerable to the unprecedented weather. Some people, like herself, hurried through the streets to wherever they were seeking shelter from the storm. She was pleased with her choice of cloak as she blended in with the few hurrying about the streets. No one would recognize her for the stone mage sent by the High Minister to deal with the Trench Lord and his riff-raff.

  On the second tier, she moved to the far entrance. She saw Lady Aldemar and her group of bleeding hearts working to find places for people indoors, the group of silver and gold mages easy to distinguish in their healers’ cloaks. She tucked her own cloak tighter around her and bent forward to hide her face from the woman. There was another the stone mage would not mind taking down a peg; Caterine had been glad when Lady Aldemar stepped down from the council, but her influence had not diminished. The healer had ears on the council, and she had pull within the city. With Luthian’s help, perhaps a plan could be laid and the meddling wretch removed permanently. Caterine gave a snort of derision as she descended to the first tier.

  Her detour worked out in her favor; she arrived at the farthest entrance to the trench, and it would let her move right around the tier. There was a steady stream of individuals making their way up out of the trench. They were mostly miners at this entrance, the dust and soot running down their bodies as they were met by the storm. It they were not needed for mining the medure they would be some of the most disgusting of the trench inhabitants; Caterine abhorred filth.

  The stone mage found a spot near the entrance where she had a clear view of the opening. She stood with her back tightly pressed against a house, hidden in the dark, storm-filled shadows. It gave her a bit of respite from the wind and rain so she could see better.

  She concentrated on the rock of the ramp. Most did not know that the spell to move stone was not actually movement of rock. It was really the replicating of the small specks of material the stone mages learned to see. Once the small elements were in her view, she began to whisper the words of replication, her hands moving before her like a sculptor on a clay wheel.

  She almost lost the concentration of the small stone elements when she heard the horrified cry of those still on the ramp who were engulfed by the building of her wall, but she pressed onward, smiling inwardly. That was one occupant of the trench would not have to face drowning. Her mouth upturned further as she continued, mindless of those scrambling over the growing wall. She did not pause when the scream of a woman caught in the growing stone drew attention from those on the first tier. People raced to try to help those still coming over the growing barrier. pulling on the woman’s arm as the rest of her body was slowly engulfed by the slithering stone. By the time it arched over slightly to prevent anyone else from climbing it, the woman’s screams had stopped. The stone slowly formed over her face, creating an open-mouthed sculpture on the wall, her hand the only thing left not covered in white creeping stone.

  Caterine was swift to melt into the horrified crowd once the wall was finished. The sound of chaos from the trench erupting from the other side brought an evil grin to the stone mage’s face. Hidden by the cowl, she made her way through the throngs of bodies milling about at the ramp. Once free of the press, she hurried to the second entrance before word could spread from the first.

  The spell now came quicker to her hands, as if remembering what she had just done; this stone wall rose up in mere seconds, taking three more souls into it. She did not bother to wait for their screams to cease. She built on. The wasteful, ‘magic-less’ bags of flesh in the trench would be washed away in a torrent of rain, waves and filth.

  It would be just as she and Luthian planned. He would be so proud of her work. She knew that few mages were capable of dispelling her work even if they were called to the trench; certainly the mages she had sent within were lesser mages that would not have the time or capacity to undo the wall. Lady Aldemar had the skill in magic to dispel such powerful spells, but it was not her sphere and would take time. In addition, Luthian had assured her that no movement between the tiers was to be allowed. It was unlikely the Lady could make her way down here in time.

  The next wall did not entomb anyone. There was less movement from this ramp. It made sense - the door from the trench up onto the plains was not far. She was fearful of being spotted, so her movement to the final entrance took time. Once she felt sure that no one was looking her way, she slipped down the tier to the final entrance.

  If he were not already on an upper tier, this would be where the Trench Lord would emerge. In the time she worked with him to seal over the sewage canal, she had realized that the people in the trench were truly the man’s first priority. She rather suspected, that much like a captain, he would go down with his ship. She wished she could see the horrified man’s face when he realized that the rest of the denizens had only one way out.

  Caterine took a little more time on this wall, enjoying her thoughts of what would occur when the wave swept into the harbor and up the sewage canal. The milling bodies, debris, and filth of the sewers would en
sure that even if the trench occupants lived through the wave, they would die from infected wounds. She formed the wall carefully, making sure it was far stronger. She smiled as it closed over the entrance.

  She turned and hurried to the stairs to the second tier. She eyed the press of people there attempting to move up a level; the first tier had grown crowded even before she sealed the trench. She remembered Luthian’s words that none would be allowed to climb tiers, suddenly realizing that this would include herself. She cursed inwardly. Now what was she to do? She could take shelter in a tavern, but they would all be full of the rabble from the first tier. As she hesitated in thought, she felt a hand on her elbow and looked up to see a most horrid looking man. His face was pockmarked and hard. He wore no cloak or cowl, his long hair plastered about his face.

  “I have been sent to help you leave this tier, milady.” The man’s voice was rasping and unpleasant. “Lord Luthian did not wish you trapped here.”

  Caterine gave a deep sigh of relief. Luthian had cared enough to send someone who could get her back to him! She smiled at the man, despite his appearance as more a thug than a servant of the High Minister.

  “I am most grateful.” She let him lead her around the corner and they made their way swiftly to an area of the wall that was obscured from the street’s view. There was a rope hanging down over a deep puddle that had accumulated in a sinkhole at the base of the wall. She looked up in alarm. “I do not know how to climb.”

  “Do not worry milady, just put your hands on the rope; when I give a signal, another will pull you up. You just hang tightly to the rope and walk up the wall. I will be here to catch you if you slip.” The man’s voice was a harsh whisper.

  Caterine was hesitant about her ability, but she was looking forward to sitting down with a glass of wine and recounting her efficient dispatching of her assignment with Luthian. She stepped into the puddle, even though the water ran up and over her boot tops. She followed the servant’s direction and took hold of the rope.