Ed clenched his jaw. "A bit too cocky, aren’t they? Not even looking at us."
"No surprise," Gene said. "Overconfidence is a common trait in our race." She narrowed her eyes on the enemy. "History will judge them harshly."
"You're sounding like Glen," Ed said.
"A complement," Glen quickly added, pointing toward an indentation in the rock wall up ahead where a hidden, crudely-cut, and steep stair ascended. "Gene and I talked about it before. History repeating being a theme to our lives, large and small. From the so-called Romantic Struggles to the Withering Catastrophe, to mundane skirmishes and ceasefires. In the end, it’s just repeating basic patterns for basic reasons. Take this fight. It boils down to just one big family feud between three Ladress brothers and their eldest brother, Siga. Hmm...I’m beginning to see another theme; we’re due for another talk, Gene."
"Another complement," Gene laughed. "Now, I'm suspicious you actually have a coherent argument for once."
"I give one compliment per criticism, so I owe you two criticisms," Glen said, stopping at the bottom of the stair. The rocky stair, though solid, sported a great deal of loose sediment and debris, making sure-footing more dangerous than he thought. It was a wonder how Ninn climbed up so fast. "Not much footing, is there,” Glen echoed Ed’s thoughts. “And, uh, yea don't look up. It only gets worse."
"Just go," Ed commanded. "Ninn made it fine. Use your hands, knees and keep your focus. You'll be fine too."
Gene backed away. “And Ninn climbed this so quickly?”
“We don’t have to go as fast as he did, Gene,” Ed answered, waving Glen to start first, then Gene before he started the climb. “Just one step at a time.” Single-file, they climbed the red flaky rock of the chasm wall.
"What was your first criticism," Gene asked with tension in her voice. Ed smiled to himself, remembering Gene’s acrophobia. A priest afraid of heights? She could use magic for Almighty’s sake. "We can have a little talk now."
Glen mocked a laugh. "Where do I start? Your zealousness, your religion, your overdone modesty. I mean, look at you. You ripped your cloak but still had that thick cassock underneath. How many layers of clothes do you wear?"
"We are to debate fashion then," she asked. "From the man who wears the same Chronicler's uniform on duty, off duty, in the city, in the barracks. Do you wear it while bathing?"
"If it saves me time, and precious brain power," Glen answered. "Hey Ed, get this, Gene isn’t any ordinary priest. Talking one time at the Bear and Babe, she said she’s a High Priest and Synod member. Met Princess Zana too. Before she joined us, she was going to sacrifice a whole slew of delicious animals to their Beas —err, Golden Lady. Such a shame for waste of food."
“Thank you,” she said. Ed could see her heel trembling more with each step. He tapped her raised heel to assure her that he was behind her.
“Thank you? For what,” Glen asked.
“For...uh, how steep are these stairs going to be?”
“Answer him and keep going,” Ed said. Focus on something else, Gene. “You’re slowing us down.”
“Sorry, Colonel,” she replied. “I appreciate Glen not ascribing that prerogative to the Golden Lady.”
Glen laughed between heavy breaths. “What? ‘Beast’? Well, at least she’s not helping out the Empire with ‘her body.’”
“It’s not her—” Gene suddenly froze above Ed. He tapped her foot again, but she wouldn’t move.
“Gene,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“I...uh, I don’t think I…” No, don’t panic. Damn it, Gene, you use magic! How the hell can you panicking?
“Just do one step. One step for now,” he whispered before calling out. “So why do priests’ offer animal sacrifices to the Golden Lady anyway? What does she want with dead animals?”
Glen labored an out-of-breath laugh. “The Almighty must be very hungry wherever his spirit went off to.”
She took one step and Ed exhaled. Finally. “You should be careful what you say, Glen,” she said. “You’ve memorized our texts, so you can’t speak from ignorance.”
“Alright, alright,” Glen huffed. “Sorry. It’s for reparations, right?”
“Reparation for what,” Ed asked, tapping her other foot. She moved again.
“Yes, reparations,” she answered. “For all the world’s evil. It was our selfishness that killed the Almighty. We, as humanity, have decided that selfish love is preferential to selfless love.”
“Speak…for…yourself,” Glen coughed.
“And I’m sure your only concern was for the well-being of those women medics you were trying to woo earlier this week?”
“You…make…me sound like some predator,” Glen gasped out. “They liked the attention.”
“He’s right, Gene,” Ed added, worried she’d slow her pace and see how high they were already. Half way up and the air had cooled, not by the Chills, however. His standard issue warding stone that hung around his neck hadn’t warmed. But they must be outside the protection of the warding stones down on the gorge floor. “No one can be selfless all the time. Its against our nature.”
“That’s the point of the reparations,” Gene retorted, annoyance slipping into her voice. “All of our choices are not done in a vacuum. They build and cascade becoming avalanches of havoc and malice as time goes on. The Empire, for example. Emperor Siga Ladress wasn’t born longing to assassinate his mother so he could dismantle a Shard and the god with in it. But his and the other’s around him led him down that path. That is why we offer reparations for our failings, because our failings, however small, matter. But sometimes, animals and grain offerings aren’t enough.” Gene paused to breathe, but Ed tapped her heel to continue. She didn’t right away, apparently lost in her thoughts. “It happened before my time…,” she said, somberly. “When the gods’ spirits returned to their respective Shards of the Almighty and awoke. When Zandagor returned to the Golden Lady, most of the Holy City…Zanf’r was destroyed.” She picked up her climbing pace. “The entire Temple, Sanctuary, Holy Grounds. Terrible loss of life.”
“That must be when the Empire’s Shard woke too,” Ed said. When it all started. Eighty years ago. “Lairgor, you called it? Or was it the Sea Roar?”
“Sea Roar is the Shard’s name. The god who awakened the Shard by returning to it is Lairgor—”
“Wow, you two are slow,” Glen shouted from some height. “Look at that view!”
Gene froze. Come on, Gene.
“Almost there,” he said, tapping her foot again, but she wouldn’t move. Ed thought of something to get her mind of the height, another question. “I remember you talking about Champions with Glen,” Ed asked. “Divine warriors right?”
“I’ve told you already,” Glen shouted from above, oblivious to what Ed was trying to do. He couldn’t care less. “Excuses for divine-right rulers. You want to legitimize your reign, say you were sent by the gods! The King-Makers do that all the time.”
“I was asking Gene,” Ed said.
“Rather cynical of you, Chronicler,” Gene replied, huffing. “Its a shame your cynicism blinds you to reality. The Amerand Dynasty still rules the Steppe and they haven’t claimed they were Champions of the King-Maker. Neither has the Ladress Family claimed Champions of the Golden Lady. From my readings, there hasn’t been a Champion since our ancestors migrated north during the Withering Catastrophe hundreds if not thousands of years ago. No…you’d know when you’re chosen to be a Champion….” Gene’s voice drifted darker toward the end as if she was speaking to herself.
“Hey Gene,” Glen piped up again. “Hurry up, we’re so far up, I think I can still make out Ninn running—”
“Shut up,” Ed barked before asking Gene, “have you seen the Golden Lady.” Just keep talking, keep moving.
“Oh yes,” her voice trembled. Just a few more feet. “We wear specialized suits the Empire lends us so we can come near her. She’s absolutely majestic, Colonel. An incredible experience. Before she w
oke, before my time, the priests would purify pilgrims who wished to see her. Now, only the priests are allowed. Too few runic suits, and we can’t risk damage to them. But, Colonel, I wish you can see her. The peace and consolation that comes over you in her presence…” Glen grabbed hold of her hand and helped her up to the top. Panting, she walked away from the edge. “I wish you could see it,” she repeated, gathering her breath.
"I do too,” Ed said, reaching the top himself.
“I don’t,” Glen said, crossing his arms and shrugging. “My luck, I’d probably have a conversion. Eh, Gene?”
Ed almost gaped at the view. Like a great rip in the skin of world, the Ladress Gorge was wide and deep enough to hold a river, a lake, and small patches of forests. The other side, far off in the distance, gleamed a rusty red against the sun, a great wall, an unhealed —never healing— wound on the world. He gazed down on the lake. He could see much of Ninn’s work was already cleared away. Construction had started on the ruins. Steam and smoke rose from 'god's stolen power,’ allowing them to do many more times a man’s work: lift heavy boulders, clear away dirt and trees. It didn’t matter what the purpose, those contraptions followed the will of their masters. No, Gene, ‘Beasts’ are the right word for it.
“Alright,” Ed announced, clapping the red dust off his hands. “Enough gazing, lead the way, Glen.”
Glen silently placed his finger over his lips, winking and smiling mischievously. He pointed over his shoulder at Gene who faced away from the cliff edge, trying very hard to look interested in the shrubs and trees that marked the beginning of a very dense wood.
Ed shook his head to say ‘no.’ Don’t push her too far, he thought.
“A little mercy can cover a lot of faults, Glen,” Gene said, turning back to face them.
He sighed, slumping his shoulders. “Fine, fine; I’ll lay off,” he said, leading the way along the cliff edge. “But, really. You should be last person to be afraid of a little distance. Can’t you levitate or whatever magic you priests teach?”
“Yes, some can,” she said, following on the far side of the ledge. “But levitation is not in my discipline. Offense and protection are my focus. Otherwise I couldn’t have joined the war effort. I’ve learned some basic healing recently, but it was quite an ordeal for me to master even those disciplines. The Golden Lady’s blessings are a dangerous and hard skill to master.”
“Ah, well that makes sense,” Glen continued. “Just wish you guys discriminated between who you teach. The Empire doesn’t need mages.”
“We open our doors to anyone who has been blessed by the Golden Lady, but I admit, I wish we made requirements for leading a moral life—”
With Gene mindfully occupied in one of her ‘talks’ with Glen, Ed decided to turn his attention to his surroundings. The ground was rocky here with patches of grass and small shrubs. A few yards away, the grass became more consistent, than a few trees, then more; within a quart of a mile, one would be deep inside the snarls of Kar’d’s Forest. Adding to Ed’s worry, warding stones were nowhere to be seen, probably washed down into gorge by rain. If Ladress forces were going to retake the gorge, setting up here would present difficulties from clearing the dense forest to defending against wild infected animals. But that wasn’t his present concern.
The three of them could hide in there for a good while, if things went poorly. Each of them had their own warding stone on them as standard issue, but that wouldn’t protect them from an infected bear or larger animal. He scanned the forest for life –for the Chills. No sign, but that didn’t make going in there a welcomed idea. Ed considered but decided against it. That wouldn’t be necessary, and his instincts agreed.
"...Seven," Glen's voice came to Ed's ears again. "You keep going on about seven Shards. Sorry, Gene. I know the texts talk about there being seven, but I deal in facts, not nice ‘symbolic numbers.’ I've only heard of five discovered, one on shaky grounds. The Impossible Tower from our late Queen’s home. The one the Empire is dismantling to ‘conquer the world’ and the one you and your priests worship in your city. There’s rumor of the Islanders worshiping one too, which makes sense on how reverent Ninn is all the time. Oh, and the King-Maker, that’s definitely one—"
“That’s five already,” she reminded him.
He smacked his lips. “Five Shards is not seven. The Impossible Tower, Golden Lady, King-Maker, and Sea Roar, and maybe the Black Monolith for those Islanders. But, the Veiled Goddess, and the Red Mountain haven’t been discovered.”
“Yet,” Gene said lightly with a giggle. “Wait a few more years when they awaken.”
Glen snickered. He was losing this one, Ed could tell. “Then where would Ragnarok fall into then? The eighth?”
Ed winched. Did he really have to bring that up? Ragnarok as far as Ed knew used to be a barbaric nation their ancestors drove south, but Gene hated it when the topic was brought up. Glen, of course, knew that too.
Predictably, Gene didn’t reply.
Glen chuckled. “Since we’re taking for granted what long dead people have told us, why not believe the Ragnars? Ragnarok was their god, right?”
After a pause, Gene spoke, “you’re trying to goad me, Glen. It isn’t going to work.”
Glen sighed. “Ugh, you’re no fun when you’re so anxious, Gene. What about you Ed? You think Ragnarok’s a god too?”
Ed didn’t really care, but if kept Glen from harassing Gene for a bit, he’d play along. “Didn’t our forefathers push out the Ragnars from here,” he said, peeking over the edge at the workforce the Empire had deployed. Definitely more than just a scout, Ed thought, frowning.
“Yup, pushed them south all the way to the sea,” Glen replied, happily. “The Nation of Ragnarok. Very scary people, they did all sort of human sacrifice and necromancy on people and even the Chills. I’ve got to tell you some the stories I’ve read about them. Maybe for Hallowed Honor’s Day. Ragnars, they called themselves, but they had lots of slaves. Worshiped Ragnarok like he was one of the Seven. I know Gene says it’s heretical, but I’ve seen evidence they even had a Champion” —Ed watched Gene looking downward, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.— “Which would mean, by Gene’s historical standards, the damn devil was real—”
“You don’t know what in the hell your talking about, Glen,” Gene flared her voice, even surprising Ed. “Ragnarok isn’t a god or the devil, he had no Champion. He’s a made up excuse to do evil and more than just the Ragnar’s slaves suffered under their demented delusions.”
Glen turned over his shoulder. “Gene…I…didn’t mean,” he said, solemnly. “I suppose maybe you’re right. There’s no mention of a corresponding Shard for Ragnarok, I’ve come across at least. Those things are as big as mountains! You can’t hide something like that."
"And when they awake, the event is catastrophic," Gene sighed, letting go of her clasped hands. "When the Golden Lady woke, the Holy City was destroyed. When the Sea Roar woke, a new island was formed, the Empire's Golden Isle where they are now desecrating the Sea Roar to pieces. And, then also, there was the great quake somewhere in Prince Landrie's mountains—"
"Ah,” Glen sounded with returning giddiness. That’s enough, Glen. “So that’s why you first wanted to swear allegiance to Landrie. Think he'll let you can go hunting for a new Shard—"
"We’re getting close," Ed hushed. "It's time to be silent."
Glen snickered. "As if they care," but, he obeyed. The cliff edge became rougher until up ahead it slanted down into the rocky descent Ninn's work had made. Ninn had done a better job than Ed expected; there was very little sign that anyone was up here except for some tossed over dirt. He even made it appear as if some animal had done it with claw and tooth marks. Maybe those Islanders aren’t as incapable as he thought. He's staying in my unit, Ed decided. He had wrestled with the decision for a while now: the boy’s authority-pleasing attitude could become a problem, and his mantras had unnerved others in the past. But, no; this job was done better than
any demolition team Ed knew.
As they neared the start of the cliff slope, Ed got down on all fours, laid on his stomach and crawled to the summit of the collapsed cliff edge. Damn. The slide descended much steeper than it had appeared from the bottom. From here, he could see the shallow lake glistening around the bustling camp. He eyed three of those new man-shaped machines. They were at point, two facing Ladress and one oddly facing the Empire’s direction, probably looking out for the rest of their troop. Mages, Ed saw three. Odd number; Empire's mages usually came in pairs. There were regulars, wearing their black and dark blue colors, setting up tents, organizing themselves into smaller units, and still clearing much of Ninn's work. Ed counted the full twenty of those. And then, there were what Ed guessed to be their construction corps in white and dark blue work clothes, a group of eight surveying the area. He noticed one paying close attention to the resort ruins, now a pile of rubble. There, that one! Ed smiled. Positioned on the Ladress side of the camp and near their side of the cliff's edge was one of their steam-drivers. He eyed two others, but they were on the far side. That'll have to do.
"That's more than a scouting party," Glen whispered as he crawled alongside Ed.
"Start memorizing," Ed ordered. "Gene?"
"Here, Colonel," Gene said, timidly peeking over the edge.
"There, that one," Ed answered, nodded his chin toward the near steam-driver. "We're taking it."
"Not too bad," Glen said, blinking all the while.
"How does it work, Glen?"
Glen closed his eyes. "From what I can remember, it takes two. One shovels coal into a furnish in the rear. The other pushes on two petals on the floor in the front. One probably makes it accelerate; the other stops it. There’s a steering column, but all I’ve got to go on are drawing of the outside and guess sketches of the inside. It’s plating covers up most of the frame allowing slits for their swords and hand-cannons to stick out."
"That's fine, we'll figure it out," Ed said. "Gene," he turned and eyed her. She was staring intensely at the steam-driver, a dismantled piece of a Shard she entered the war to protect. "Are you going to be OK with this?"
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 3