Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  “Who did?” Stonebridge latched onto her words like a lifeline. “The witch?” The senior prefect took a step back as if hit in the gut. “Damn it. Gideon’s fucking balls, damn it all.”

  “What is it?” Constable Holvstad stepped forward to steady him, no doubt thinking this was an after-effect of the smoke. “Sir?”

  “I’m fine. I just figured out who the killer is. It’s so much worse than we thought.” Stonebridge closed his eyes as if against a headache.

  “Well let’s go get him then, we–” Constable Holvstad yelled exasperated, but then stopped.

  People were screaming. The music of the Festival of Bones had stopped, and people began running past them screaming in terror.

  One of the terrorised citizens grabbed one of the constables and yelled in their face. “Dead! They’re dead. It’s horrible!”

  “Where? What happened?”

  “In the parade! On the floats!” the Xinnish man yelled at the constable. “Do something! They’re riding around behind the horses. Mutilated. It’s horrible!” The man fell to his knees and began to weep.

  The constables began to run back up the street, yet to Naira the world seemed to have slowed somehow. She saw things moving but did not register what was happening.

  The world had gone mad.

  25 - Justified Anger

  Xin Ya has always been a nation separated from the rest of Salucia by its mountainous terrain, its unique dialect, and its long and vibrant cultural history. From all accounts, most of the interviewed residents in Xin Ya prefer their isolation from the rest of Salucia which, in this Chronicler’s mind, has unfortunately been a cause for much of the conflict between itself and Kenz, its northern neighbour.

  - Chronicler Simon Rathelson in A Common History: 1851– 2850 ATC, 45th Edition, 2850

  Matoh

  Xinnish District, New Toeron, Bauffin

  Hell had broken loose, and Matoh watched it engulf the market square in front of him.

  He had started running as soon as he heard the screaming, but part of him was still in shock at what had happened to Naira. She was alive, yet ... his mind couldn’t complete the thought. It was all too raw, to0 terrible.

  Then he had come back into the market, and it felt like a nail had been driven into his heart.

  A cart decorated for the Festival of Bones was being pulled by two horses covered in blood, their eyes were wild in terror from the smell, but they could not disentangle themselves from the heavy cart. Yet it was their load which had sent everyone screaming from the market.

  Three people had been tied to large wooden crosses, they had been eviscerated with patches of skin cut away from their eyes and around their mouths to make them look horribly skeletal yet enough of them was left to be recognisable.

  And Matoh recognised them.

  They were the Phans. Mr Phan who ran a tea shop, his wife, Mrs Phan who sold the best mushrooms in the city and their daughter Jenny Phan, whom Matoh remembered busking beside her mother’s mushroom cart. Jenny had a wonderful voice and played the violin.

  Their eyes all screamed the horror of their final moments and, as Matoh watched the cart skitter by, he saw that words had been cut into their bare chests; “UNHOLY”, “SCUM”, and “WHORE.”

  “Is that …” Wayran’s choked voice started to ask beside him, and Matoh put his hand out to find his brother’s shoulder.

  His throat felt so thick he thought he might choke and vomit in equal measure. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and all he could do was nod to Wayran as he forced himself to step forward to grab the halter of the horse as it came back around.

  “Help me,” Matoh tried to say past the pain in his chest, and then anger at what was happening began to take hold. “Help me with this!” he hollered, and half a dozen other initiates and constables came to his aid to stop the horses from dragging him away. Wayran was right there beside him.

  They finally stopped the cart and unhitched the horses.

  “Who could do something so terrible?” Wayran asked, looking at Matoh in shock.

  The man we chased away from Naira, Matoh thought. The thought of Naira laying on the cold street half naked and dying as that terrible santsi globe pulsed with sickly light sent another spike of pain into Matoh’s very soul. I will kill that man. Kill the monster that did this. Yet the light of the santsi globe had obscured the man’s face. He doubted he could pick him out of a crowd. He realised Wayran had asked him a question and Matoh came back to the moment. “A monster, Wayran. Someone truly evil.”

  The type of people from whom the Knights of Salucia were meant to protect the people, and he had failed. Completely.

  “Matoh?” a familiar voice said from the crowd. “What’s happening?”

  Matoh turned to find Glev Marskow staring up at the dead family from a ring of people who had formed around them. The constables had tried to form a perimeter, but now that the cart had been stopped, more and more people began recognising the Phans.

  “Glev.” Matoh didn’t know what to say. He was still in shock himself. “We’re going to catch him. The man who did this.”

  “It’s been months now!” Glev gritted his teeth, and the tough gambler fought back his tears. He pointed up to the smaller body, angry now. Spittle flew from his mouth. “I knew Jenny! She was a good person. How are we meant to feel safe, Matoh? You all parade around in your fancy armour, looking tough. But what have you done to protect us?!”

  The venom in Glev’s eyes shocked Matoh. He found he had no words. There was nothing he could say to help because deep down, he agreed with Glev. What good were they if they couldn’t protect these people?

  “That’s my brother up there!” An angry man stepped out from the crowd and pointed at Mr Phan. “How could you let this happen?! You people are meant to protect us! Where were you?”

  “Constables, assist that man, and get those bodies down off the cart!” Senior Prefect Stonebridge pushed through the crowd and began issuing orders.

  “This is part of the constabulary’s investigation! I must ask people to move back. We will be taking statements, anything people saw before the cart came into the market will be helpful. Form a line over by that stall.” Stonebridge pointed.

  “Right, now you show up, you Kenzian prick! Where were you when our people were being butchered? I saw you all run away from the market. As if you had somewhere better to be!” someone from the crowd yelled.

  “Let the Xinnish fend for themselves is that it?” a woman screamed.

  Senior Prefect Stonebridge held up his hands as if to ward off the anger spewing forth towards them. He spoke as calmly as he could to try and defuse the situation, but he didn’t know if he could, “This is horrific, and we need all of your help to stop any further atrocities from happening. Please, we need to control the crime scene.”

  The angry Xinnish faces pushing in all around Senior Prefect made the man’s hands shake. He seemed to be in the grip of personal demons given the haunted look Matoh saw behind the man’s eyes.

  “Give him some room! You! Two steps back, move!” Constable Holvstad pushed the crowd back around him then jumped up and stood on the cart from which the Phans’ bodies had only recently been taken down. “Listen, sister, this is a terrible crime, unforgivable and one which will receive the maximum punishment. Don’t play this bastard’s game. The Phans were killed to try and start a war!”

  Constable Holvstads words and ferocity made the crowd step back, and John regained a modicum of control.

  “So, what are we meant to do?!” a man yelled from the crowd. “Just wait while they pick us off one by one? Trust the authorities?! That’s done nothing so far!”

  It was then he noticed Wayran stumble and grab onto him. Wayran’s eyes were flickering back and forth so quickly it looked as if he was having a fit.

  “What is it?” Matoh asked.

  “Riot,” Wayran said as he held onto Matoh’s arm.

  It’s happening to him again, Matoh thought, Wayran’s
seeing possibilities of the future. Isn’t that what Fellow Callahan had told Wayran this was? Glimpses into the future. Matoh had thought it nonsense, but as he watched his brother’s eyes flicker faster and faster back and forth, he began to believe.

  The voices within the crowd began to grow louder and louder.

  An angry man took a step closer.

  A gauntleted hand pushed the man back.

  The voices grew angrier.

  “What do we do, Wayran? What do you see?” Matoh had grabbed his brother now, trying to get through the strange trance which had come over him.

  Glev stepped forward and pushed Matoh on his breastplate. He was yelling at Matoh to do something, but Matoh felt as if he were watching it all unfold on a stage. Like he was in a theatre watching a horrifying performance.

  He knew the people around him. They were good, normal people. Just scared and angry. What was he meant to do?

  Someone in a uniform, another of the initiates, one of Matoh’s classmates, Ivan Ortega, stepped up beside Matoh and was yelling at Glev to let Matoh go.

  Glev was enraged and crying now, waving his other hand back at the dead bodies of the Phans and shouting, “What are you going to do about it!” But Matoh could no longer hear the words, he was still in shock, still trapped in the nightmare unfolding around him.

  “No way out, I can’t see–” Wayran whispered and then his eyes stopped as he tried to reach across Matoh for Glev. “No!” Wayran yelled.

  But he was too late.

  Ivan who thought he was coming to Matoh’s rescue, smashed a thick club down on Glev’s arm and Matoh’s stomach churned as he heard the sickening crack as Glev’s forearm broke.

  “I said, get back!” Ivan roared at Glev.

  “No.” Matoh tried to move forward, but Wayran still held him. It was all going to go wrong. Matoh already saw Glev’s face go from shock to rage and his other hand drop beneath his shirt.

  The knife was in Glev’s hand and snaking out towards the initiate’s neck in less than a heartbeat.

  Ivan didn’t see the attack, Glev’s friend was stepping towards Ivan in anger.

  Something black and terrible whirred through the air, and a metallic clang rang through the air.

  Adel shot between the attackers, her black blade flashing.

  The knife in Glev’s hand flew from his fingers as did the club in Ivan’s hand.

  She spun upside down and delivered three kicks so fast Matoh wasn’t sure he had seen them. Glev, his friend, and Ivan all staggered and fell to the ground around her, all clutching minor injuries.

  “ENOUGH!” Adel screamed.

  Matoh felt it then. Almost like the air itself was throbbing.

  The bracelet on Adel’s wrist was glowing so that a line of bright orange could be seen through the dark green stone it was made of.

  It felt hard to breathe, and the black sword Adel had raised into the air seemed to be drinking in the very light itself.

  Everyone around her took a step back as if a demon had suddenly materialised.

  “I am the Arbiter!” Adel yelled with a snarl. “Favoured of Halom, Lord Father of the heavens above. Step forward if you wish to be judged!”

  The crowd fell silent as the black blade throbbed darkness above Adel. Sparks of energy began to rain down off the sword falling around her. Everyone took another step backwards.

  “Go back to your homes! Hug your loved ones and pray to Halom for the souls who have been lost tonight!” Adel addressed both sides now, the now-cowed mob as well as the constables and initiates. “Enough evil has been done here already. Anger and hate serve the enemy and will do no good here, but to you, this I swear ...” Adel slashed her dark sword down, and a line of blue sparks and darkness swept through the air. Matoh felt his heart skip a beat. “This crime will not go unpunished. I, the Arbiter, chosen of Halom, will find justice for the souls who have been sent to our Lord before their time.”

  Adel stood rigid amid the silent mob, daring any to doubt her. The black blade, naked in the night, was darker even than the clouded sky above.

  Glev clutched his broken arm, eyes wide in shock and tried to stand.

  Senior Prefect Stonebridge stepped forward and gently extended a hand to help him up.

  Glev glared at the senior prefect for a moment then shook his head and let himself be pulled up.

  “The constabulary will pay a good doctor to set that arm, son.” Matoh heard Stonebridge tell Glev, clasping the young man’s uninjured hand a moment longer to make sure everyone could see.

  Glev stared back at the senior prefect and then over to Adel. “And for the Phans? They will have a proper funeral service.”

  “Glev, please?” Matoh said. The crowd had gone quiet once more, waiting collectively for an answer.

  But Stonebridge held a quieting hand up to Matoh.

  “I’ll pay for that myself, Glev, is it?” Stonebridge said so that only a few around them could hear, but the two men continued to clasp hands, neither willing to break the stare.

  Finally, Glev nodded and took his hand back. He looked at Adel one more time, but even Glev couldn’t keep a shadow of fear from his face.

  He turned and pushed into the crowd who let him pass. Soon, others began to follow until only the sobbing of the remaining members of the Phan family could be heard through the square.

  Matoh went to Adel. “Are you all right?” he asked, it was only then he noticed how laboured Adel’s breathing sounded.

  She still hadn’t put the sword away, and that strange darkness emanating from it looked as if it wanted to pull him in.

  “I need to let the sword calm the flow through me. It’s still stronger than the bracelet can take,” Adel hissed through gritted teeth.

  Gods, Matoh realised, she’s in agony right now.

  Before she could stop him, Matoh grabbed Adel’s wrist and let the excess energy coursing through her flow into him.

  The small santsi globes he had embedded in his leather armour flashed white then burst outwards. Glass shattered, and he dropped to his knees.

  Adel twisted from his grip as Matoh gasped for air, stunned at what he had felt.

  Yet it seemed to have done the trick. The darkness around the sword no longer throbbed, and the glow within the stone bracelet had subsided to a much less angry glow. The tight grimace on Adel’s face had faded.

  “That was stupid,” Adel said, looking at him in shock. The black sword flicked through the air and back into the scabbard at her hip in one fluid motion.

  “I agree,” Wayran said from behind Matoh.

  “Worked, didn’t it?” Matoh gasped as soon as he found his breath. It was then he noticed his hand stinging with pain. He looked down and saw the raw burns on his hand, gasping in wonder. “How?” Matoh looked to Adel with a new understanding of her suffering. “The pain of it? How can you stand it? How are you not burned to a crisp? How are you not writhing on the ground during one of the fits?”

  Adel gave him a small smile and shrugged shyly.

  Wayran came over and helped Matoh to his feet.

  “Miranda, I want veterans only stationed here tonight. The more local constables, the better. Everyone else is on double-duty tonight. Oversee it yourself. I’m taking the initiates back to the Academy. I’ll be back after I’ve had another meeting with the High King. Understood?” They heard Senior Prefect Stonebridge say to Constable Holvstad.

  She nodded to her superior and set to work.

  It was then Matoh noticed that Naira was nowhere to be seen.

  26 - Fallout

  Raidho has once again insisted on doing its own research. It insists that symbiosis is possible.

  I asked, “Why do you believe so?”

  “This one believes it is the Tiden Raika guiding me towards this discovery,” was the answer Raidho gave me as it sat experimenting with small clusters of its own nanite body.

  The answer surprised me, and I began to look into Raidho’s findings so far.

 
It might be onto something.

  - Journal of Robert Mannford, Day 297 Year 30

  Adel

  Xinnish District, New Toeron, Bauffin

  Adel found Naira tending to the wounded in the great community hall of the Xinnish district about an hour after her public display of power. Why did I do that? Adel kept going over it in her mind. She still couldn’t believe she had drawn the sword and siphoned so heavily. Stupid! She told herself again, what if it had gone wrong? What if I hadn’t been able to control it? Of all the idiotic ways to handle the complexities of her strange powers, her lineage, the newly discovered titles she held and what her father had been training her to do, that had to be close to one of the dumbest ways to do it. Everything was pushed out into the open in one split-second decision. “Yet, it had felt like the right decision at the time,” she said aloud to herself.

  “What’s that?” Matoh asked though Adel could tell his attention was elsewhere. He watched Naira going from bed to bed, talking to the victims and trying to comfort them.

  Adel saw him rubbing his hands together absently, and she realised it was probably the first time she had seen Matoh look nervous or anxious. His usual confidence and steadiness had evaporated, and she saw the pain hiding behind his eyes.

  “Let’s go talk to her,” Adel said. She grabbed one of Matoh’s big hands and gave it a squeeze. He seemed to need it.

  Matoh barely noticed the gesture, however. He nodded and continued to watch Naira with a growing look of confusion on his face. “What’s she doing?” he asked. “She should be in one of those beds, not attending to them. She took a bigger dose of that gas than these people, not to mention what happened after …” Matoh trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck, obviously struggling with a terrible mix of emotions.

  Adel could see how hard this was for him, but she also knew Naira better than him and understood what she was doing.

  “She can’t admit it happened, Matoh.” Adel stopped by one of the beds. The woman in it had started screaming. “It’s all right,” Adel said, “you’re safe now. It’s a hallucination, I’ve got you. You’re safe. It will pass.” She held the woman’s until she stopped screaming and settled into some form of disturbed slumber.