*
“What happened to it?” Barsch asked, as they crested what seemed like their hundredth hill. The walk thus far had been a never ending series of slopes and valleys, occasionally punctuated by a small, brackish stream or a thorny grove. Every time they reached the top of a hill, they caught a glimpse of the broken city in the distance, which thankfully seemed to be getting closer. Now that they were close enough, Barsch could see that the city was not whole.
“War happened to it, m’boy. During the South Wars, it had the misfortune to be located on a piece of unpolluted land. Soon enough, a neighbouring country decided that Carçus was better off sharing its natural good fortune, whether they wanted to or not. So they sent a polite invitation in the form of an all-out invasion.”
Kingston looked to the horizon, where the ruined city sat like a black spot on the roiling coast. “The war didn’t last long. The invaders were heavily armed, ruthless and desperate, and Carçus was a city of peace. When the smoke had cleared, the country’s leader saw that there was nothing left worth fighting over; so they abandoned their newly won city, and nature began its reclamation. So many deaths, so much destruction, and they didn’t even care…”
There was deep regret in Kingston’s voice, along with a subdued anger. During their talks, Kingston would often speak of the foolishness of mankind or the pointlessness of the South Wars as if he were personally responsible for both.
“I’m sorry…” Barsch said, unsure of what to say. He had grown up years after the South Wars had ended, so he had never known the horrors of war. In his time, war was a luxury, one the human race could not afford.
“If there is anyone who needs to apologise, it’s me. When our leaders were deciding the fate of the world, we kept silent and waited for their decision. It was only after we realised that they had chosen wrongly did we speak out, and by that time it was far too late. My generation damned this planet through inaction, and then we ran away from what we had done, like cowards!”
“Kingston, you couldn’t have known…”
“We could- we should have done more! The warning signs were all there, but we were blinded by pride and foolishness! I may not have been here at the time, but I share the blame for what happened to Carçus, and all the cities like it.”
Something in Kingston’s tone told Barsch that any further communication was pointless, so he allowed silence to re-settle upon the group. Alza was walking several yards ahead, part of the group, but still separate. They had not spoken since their reunion on the hilltop, several hours prior, and it did not look like that would change any time soon.
When the sun entered its final quarter, Kingston brought the group to a halt. They would need all of their strength and wits for Carçus, he said, as a reason for the early stop. They camped out at the top of a tall hill, which would give them adequate warning should a threat appear. However, the land seemed to be as dead as the grass, and Barsch could not imagine anything living in such a barren place. Indeed, the greatest threat to their safety was currently sitting in their midst, biting into a chunk of dried fish.
After eating, Barsch retreated to his side of the hilltop and unrolled his sleeping bag, while Kingston and Alza did the same on their sides. The hermit was still watching Alza with a mix of suspicion and distrust, and Barsch doubted that the old man would get much sleep that night. Alza, by comparison, did not even look in his direction. As the darkness slowly crept into his vision, Barsch wondered if she would still be there when he awoke…
Awakening Page 52