The Madman's Bridge: FireWall Book 1

by Mark Johnson

  He stroked a stubbled chin. “Some buildings remained.”

  “Miss doesn’t like talking about it.” She decided she’d try her luck. “What did the Mother do when she battled the Enemy and lost, Toreng? How did she fight It?”

  The old man licked his lips. One reason Sarra liked Toreng so much was that he had never once asked why she wanted to know something. He was simply glad to share his knowledge.

  “We’re not even certain she did fight It,” he said. “All we know is that she and the Seeker assault squad went missing the day The Fall began. She emerged from the lagoon a week later, and not many really noticed. Once she was able to tell exactly where, and how, Polis Ceneph would fall apart, and where the cadver attacks would come first, she quickly increased her following.

  “All she ever said was that she and the Seekers failed to stop the dark golem. There’s no doubt something happened to her, and that she had some sort of communion with Polis Ceneph. She emerged from that lagoon soaking wet, with her hair turned pure white, and some sort of knowledge base she hadn’t previously had.”

  “So, you mean she learned something down there?” Sarra said. “What if… Polis Ceneph taught her defense artefacts? Could she have made some and brought them with her, to Polis Sumad?”

  Toreng’s eyebrow twitched. “We don’t know much about Farrah’s life in the first days of The Fall, for gods die slowly. She could have made anything, gone anywhere. All she had to start with were her loyal parishioners who’d not lost faith that she’d survived. Those few she’d started with stayed with her, and came with her to Polis Sumad.

  “As for secret defenses? The royals say there’s been no new artefacts since the Founding, which is why they confiscate all they find.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “But, as The Terror descended upon us as Polis died, Farrah would declare certain areas off-limits for a day or two. When people went back in, there were cadver parts lying all around.”

  This was new. Sarra had never heard about the Mother detecting cadver infestations before.

  “Now, I don’t mean the cadvers had parts removed,” Toreng continued, “like whatever’s happening out there in the Wastes. More like they’d been torn apart. Now, you were wondering about the Mother using artefacts, Sarra. But perhaps in doing so, you set your sights too low.”

  It took a moment for Toreng’s words to sink in.

  “Golem? You think she used golem and brought them here? But that makes no sense. I mean, where would they be? There’s nowhere to hide golem in HopeWall. We know they’re not small, and she wouldn’t have hidden them anywhere else, because this is the only place worth defending! The Enemy certainly seems to think so.” She was thinking of the pavilions’ pillars, the hidden artefacts which were too thin to hide anything much larger than her fist.

  Toreng shrugged. “Perhaps we won’t know until HopeWall itself is attacked.”

  His wish seemed a little too hopeful, but she didn’t want to tell him so. Instead she tried another tack.

  “What about when you and Miss were growing up in Ceneph? Were there any more strange events or stories that could have been leftover golem?”

  “There were stories about the lagoons once having had living statues, and legends of kraken. But I never saw any of those in the lagoons, nor the inlet leading to the ocean. Just more buildings falling in, more people leaving for other Polis: like Harient and I. Even the bandits. There are under one hundred thousand people left, now. There will always be strange stories under such conditions, but none about golem. Lots of ghost stories though; there always are after a trauma. But Sarra, there’s a reason Harient doesn’t speak of home.”

  “Never mind,” she said. She leapt to her next question. “What about stories of bulbs blowing, during the Fall, like during the cadver attack?”

  Toreng blew out his cheeks. “No. But maybe it happened, because there were all sorts of things that couldn’t be recorded. People were too busy surviving, trying not to be torn apart by cadvers or drowning. There were stories of miniature tornadoes blowing buildings over, leaving bodies everywhere, and tidal waves swamping entire levees.” His eyes glazed. “The Royals emerged with artefacts of various sorts, to defend the citizens, but not reacting at all to beasts of darkness, like they couldn’t even detect them. There were also stories of dark artefacts, recovered after five millennia submerged. Someone who did not know what they were, or someone who did know what they were, left them in places where people acted strangely, or places that attracted cadvers or broke the levees. People began having waking nightmares, dark shrines began popping up everywhere, and poltergeists actually took lives.”

  “So why wasn’t there a Swallowing in the worst chaos-infected areas?”

  “Polis Ceneph was dying, child. He wouldn’t have had enough strength to rouse himself and come to destroy and recycle all the chaos-infected land. He just barely had enough energy to keep the land from falling into the sea and give his children enough time to escape. Swallowings are done for our benefit, but they take a lot of energy that might be best saved for other things.”

  Nocev leaned over Sarra to get Toreng’s attention. “Do you think Polis ever blamed us for letting Him down? Lots of priests talk about The Fall and exodus as punishment for not paying attention.”

  Toreng shook his head with a sad smile. “No, no. Humanity is faulty by its very nature. Nothing can last forever. Certainly, He’d have preferred a more dignified end, but like all who take a body on earth, that can’t be guaranteed.

  “Whatever dire circumstances convinced the Gods to abandon the physical and return to the heavens, they loved us enough to keep us from living like beasts in the forests and deserts. There is little personal progress to be had in living hand-to-mouth, so some gods remained to feed and shelter us — so we could gain wisdom in our spare moments, that we could pass to our own children.”

  He frowned. “Though that hasn’t always worked as we’d like. We also pass down silliness and anger, and create our own personal hells with our behavior. Hence, the need for a Swallowing, when chaotic energies become too greatly entrenched.”

  “So why did He send the Mother here, Toreng?” said Sarra. “He told her specifically where to build HopeWall. Why did He send her here, not Polis Narmarikesh at the coast, or Polis Armer?”

  “Twenty-three Polis left living, Sarra. She had to go somewhere.” He shrugged. “Why not here?”

  Sarra sighed. As much as she wanted to keep him talking, old Yentas over there would notice if they spent too long asking a single question. “Thanks, Toreng. If anyone asks, we were talking about maintained successive light weaves mentioned in the Hasevas.”

  “Rebounding weaves? Impossible.”

  “I know. Just say it.” She stood and straightened. “Come north soon, Toreng. It’s been too long since we had an Atabham story.” Not only was Toreng a Cenephan LoreKeeper who’d memorized the holy Haseva texts: over the last forty years he had also memorized Polis Sumad’s Atabham.

  It was too risky to hug him, no matter how much she wanted to. They smiled at one another.

  “Walk safely to your room, girls. The nights are unsafe.”

  They left Toreng in the pavilion as men approached him, asking for a song.

  “Did we waste our time, Sarra?” said Nocev. “Because I’m no wiser than I was ten minutes ago.”

  “Toreng thinks if there’s anything to defend us, it’s golem,” Sarra said.

  “But he said something else,” Nocev said. “That the Mother somehow knew where cadvers were gathering during The Terror, and if she did have golem, that’s where she’d have sent them. I’d never heard that. How did she do it?”

  Sarra stopped still, at the invisible ‘manline’ that separated the genders. She’d not known that either. If the Mother had these pillars back in Ceneph, or something like them, then Sarra knew exactly how Mother Farrah had scoute
d for cadvers.

  Sarra had used the pavilions in a similar way.

  She could keep quiet about what she’d seen, or she could bring Nocev in on what she’d known for years. Perhaps now it was time to ask Nocev for help.

  “Nocev, if the pavilion pillars are artefacts, would you like to see what they’re capable of?”

  Nocev frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when I said we’ve been charging the pavilions’ pillars for decades? Nocev, I’ve been using those accumulated vibrations for years, for surveillance. I’ve been looking out far beyond HopeWall. Just like the Mother did, back during The Terror in Ceneph.”

  “What?” Nocev stared at Sarra, like she’d just grown a third eye in her forehead.

  Sarra couldn’t stop an impish grin spreading over her face. “Nocev, would you like me to teach you to use an artefact?”

  13

  Nocev stared at the prayer column like she’d never seen one before. “How long have you known about this?” Her breath steamed as she spoke.

  “As soon as I arrived at HopeWall, I noticed… something different about the energies around the prayer pillars,” Sarra said. She couldn’t tell Nocev everything. She’d have to blur the edges a little.

  She had to keep up a vapid smile, not wanting to imagine the consequences of the Elders overhearing even one sentence. Nearby, three Elders gossiped, drinking tea and casting the occasional watchful eye around the Commons. A month ago, those three had taken tea in one another’s rooms, leaving the outdoors for the young. Now they’d become obsessed with finding rule-breakers. Anything to make Tower authority appear greater in a time of flux, Nocev had claimed.

  “So why didn’t you tell anyone? It could have helped during the cadver attack, or given some warning.”

  Sarra looked away. The accusation hurt, but she’d had a reason. “Miss Harient might treat the artefacts the right way, but others could use them, too. Imagine Terlent getting her hands on them. How long until the Seekers hear we’ve got advanced observation artefacts and come to take them for the royals? The Mother left these for us, Nocev. It’s our vibrations powering them. But they’re not weapons. By the time the cadvers were close enough for them to detect, there wouldn’t have been much they could do. And I was up there with you.” She pointed up at the shabby remains of WestBarracksWall.

  “So,” Nocev said after a long moment tracing her finger over the pillar, “you said you’d teach me?”

  Sarra took another look around. A gaggle of novices giggled at the pavilion’s edges, and initiates played games on embroidered cloth squares beneath beaming glowbulbs. Someone nearby played a flute. Sweeper Crattas’s broom scratched up dust in the nearby colonnade.

  “These artefacts are different to most,” she said. “They’re smarter. Working with them is like submitting a request form to the ProvisionMiss.”

  Nocev squinted. “Request? Artefacts aren’t sentient, Sarra.” She paused. “Are they?”

  “The Mother brought these artefacts from Polis Ceneph, and they’re way more advanced than any of the artefacts I’ve heard of. But you’re right, they’re not sentient. They require you to go through forms and motions.”

  “What kind of forms?”

  “Here. Put your hand on the pillar, like this. Your whole palm. That gets the artefact’s attention, but it wants to work with you as if you’re in a relationship. They don’t respond to demands.”

  Nocev pursed her lips, surprised. That was the exact opposite of mechanisms, and of most artefacts. “All right.”

  “Now, once you have its attention, you create three sentences with vibration weaves. Just use the same language we use for communicating by repeater stones.” Sarra held up one finger for each sentence. “What you want, why you want it, and a reason for the artefacts to grant it.”

  “That’s simple enough.” Nocev frowned, then gave an awkward smile, like she was worried someone in the crowded pavilion might get curious enough to try listening in.

  “All right. The ‘what’. Let’s pretend you want to monitor an individual. Like, a boyfriend.

  “The ‘why’ gets a little more difficult. The artefacts have a pretty good idea what’s going on in the Wall, and out into the Wastes. If you want to monitor your boyfriend, you have to say why. If you say you’re worried he’ll cheat on you while he’s on forage, the artefacts won’t be interested. But if you think he’s in danger, they’ll listen.

  “Now, your boyfriend had better be in danger, or you’d better have a good reason for thinking that, because the artefacts will have done their own scans. You can’t fool them.” Sarra dropped her gaze when Nocev raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’ve tried. And they shut me out for a month afterwards. I don’t recommend it.”

  She shifted her shoulders. “Last, the ‘reason’. You have to explain how the artefacts benefit, and that’s pretty simple in the case of your boyfriend, the guard. You’d tell them your boyfriend keeps weavers safe, and weavers help and sustain the Wall and the Territories.” She turned her palms upward. “It’s more of a collective benefit, not something that helps the artefacts directly.”

  Nocev stroked the pillar. “OremWall doesn’t have one of these, Sarra. When you come you’ll have to bring one with you.”

  Sarra burst out laughing. A few heads turned, but she ignored them. However slight, Nocev had given HopeWall some credit.

  “How about you learn something tonight?” Sarra said. “Put your hand back on the pillar. No one’s looking, and even if they were, they’d think we were just fidgeting. They won’t see what happens.”

  Minutes later, after many demonstrations and some whispered indignation, Nocev had followed Sarra’s instructions. Three tangled balls of white light, one ‘sentence’ each, hung in front of Nocev’s face.

  “Is this right?” she asked.

  “It’s sloppy, but it’ll do.”

  “Sarra, do you see me sweating? A little less gloating, please.”

  “Sorry. Yes, send it into the artefact.”

  “Hang on. Why hasn’t this worked with all the thousands of prayers done here before?”

  Sarra panicked a moment, before realizing the unvarnished truth would work. “That’s because all the prayers are said to Polis Sumad. Your weave directly addresses the artefacts.”

  Nocev nodded, and the vibration weaves disappeared within the pillar, fading from view as they were absorbed.

  “Remember, don’t react.”

  Sarra straightened her skirt and looked around. The trio of Elders continued to sip their tea, from cups perpetually refilled by a bored-looking novice. A group of laywomen were concentrating on one of their number, who was strumming on an out-of-tune veena.

  A bead of silver light appeared before Nocev’s head but, unable to see it, she didn’t react. Then she gasped, as the bead of light slowly stretched and wrapped around her.

  Even if Nocev couldn’t see the silver weaves, she could see the vision the weaves contained.

  Sarra took her friend’s hand, squeezing it tight.

  “You’re still here,” she whispered. “Close your jaw. Everyone can see you. No, just try to look calm. It’s all right. I made a fool of myself the first time I tried it. Breathe, Nocev.”

  No matter how Nocev tried to calm her face, her eyes had opened wider than Sarra had ever seen them.

  “It’s HopeWall, Sarra,” she said breathlessly. “I’m floating above it. It’s showing me just what I asked for. A record of all the healing weaves performed inside HopeWall in the last week. I can see each healing weave in sequence, and who made it. It starts right above the Wall, then travels right down to where each weave was created. Most are inside the Infirmary.”

  The enveloping silver sheen retracted back into a silver drop, then faded. The programs’ human representations watched from the side, tilting their heads with mild interest at
the new person using their monitoring system.

  Nocev blinked, then rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “That was unbelievable. Sarra, is this why you’re such a good weaver?” Her whisper was barely audible above the pavilion’s clamor of voices.

  “No. The artefacts haven’t taught me much about vibration weaves.”

  Which was true. The silver weaves on the other hand… The ghosts were the projections of whatever complicated artefacts lay within each pillar. Most of the time, Sarra communicated with the artefacts using the silver weaves, in the language and codes they’d taught her.

  “What do we do now, Sarra?”

  “Don’t tell anyone, for a start,” Sarra replied, without needing to ponder. “If the Mother wanted these artefacts kept secret, she had a reason. And maybe there are people who already know about them, but aren’t letting on.”

  “Well,” Nocev grinned, “I want to do that again. When can we?”

  Sarra smiled. “Tomorrow, if you want. And together, somehow, we’ll figure out a cadver early warning system.”

  14

  Evenings came early in HopeWall. Unless one were fortunate enough to live with external windows on HopeWall’s tall western side, a chilly shade generally began two hours before the sun sank beyond the RimWall.

  By late afternoon, Sarra had donned a cotton cardigan over her white initiate blouse. She’d been copying correspondence for a nearby Wall for Miss Harient, and had deposited her daily batch of defense weaves into the Tower’s initiate repository stone by the time the wind quickened.

  Nocev had promised to show Sarra how she’d learned to detect precious metals and minerals at a distance. At her current rate, only a month since she’d begun learning to use the pavilion artefacts, it wouldn’t be long until the artefacts more or less danced for her.

  If the threat were beaten back and the cadvers wiped out, Sarra could follow Nocev back to OremWall and help her mother open a new weaving academy.

  She smiled. Perhaps it was the only choice that made sense.