Sarah
breathed a sigh of relief as the Former Baron began speaking, feeling the
tension flood out of her so suddenly that, for just a moment, she was on the
verge of tears. She slid down until she
was resting against the railing, swallowed hard and blinked away the burning
sensation in her eyes. Frostfire was
staring at her. He hadn't said a thing
since she had begun talking to the crowd.
"Just
who is this whose returning?" a voice from the crowd shouted. Sarah didn't look to see who. She was content enough to listen for the time
being. "Is it Lakhma, or something
similar?"
"That's
a very good question," Franck replied, "and I'm very glad you asked
it, because it means you are at least partially ready to believe what I'm about
to say."
Which is
what all this has been about, hasn't it Franck? Sarah thought with just a hint
of bitterness.
"The
powers I am referring to, as far as I understand it, once ruled this world, or,
at least, most of it. They had an empire
that spanned almost every district and their influence spread beyond even that. They must have felt invincible for a time,
but, of course, all things must come to an end.
"There
was another race back then, one we know almost nothing about, but which,
somehow, over a long, long time, fought a war of attrition with this lost
civilsation and, at the end of it, neither remained."
"This
is all very vague," said someone near the front of the crowd, "where
are you getting all this from?"
"It is
vague," the Former Baron agreed, "but that doesn't mean it isn't
true, to the best of our understanding.
The evidence is all over Shadow, after all. A civilisation as great as the one I'm
talking about does not fade away without leaving anything behind. But you are right, we don't know a lot about
them - we don't even know what they called themselves and so, in papers on the topic,
they are usually just referred to as the Ancients. Of course, we know even less about their
enemy."
"But
you said they were trying to return," called out another voice, "how
can that be if they were destroyed."
"Some
of the things the Ancients left behind point to technology and power beyond
anything we have available, but they point to abilities of the kind Hypostatick
Philosophers have dreamed of for millennia - the power to travel between
worlds. There is a theory - unproven -
that the Ancients were not wiped out, but that they moved somewhere else and
were trapped there. I believe that they,
in fact, trapped in between worlds, but that recent events have weakened the
barriers that separate realities and that, before very long, they will be free
once more."
"But
why should this bother us?"
"If you
were locked out of your house for a time and then discovered, once you were let
back in, that someone else had taken residence, how would you feel? The Ancients are not happy that we have
claimed their world."
"This
is ridiculous!" came another voice from the crowd. "Why are we listening to this
rubbish?"
"It's
just another tactic to delay us from getting our justice!"
"You're
rambling, as usual, old man!"
"Well,
I think we should listen. What if he's
right?"
The crowd
erupted into arguing, and for the first time since the Former Baron had started
speaking, Sarah dared to peak over the railing and see what was going on. It was, unsurprisingly, chaos, with the crowd
separating into violent factions, each trying to assert their own preferred
course of action. The Former Baron and
all Sarah's friends were being pushed back against the edge of the square. This was not what she had been hoping for.
"I
should speak," Frostfire said and Sarah nearly jumped in surprise at the
sound of his gravelly voice. He took a
couple of steps forward, until he was right beside her - towering over her with
his impressive, Spiketail build - then he leaned over the railing and did that
which he was not well known for, he spoke.
"Quiet!" His voice carried across the square like the
rumble of an avalanche and all fell silent, turned and looked up. "You should listen to Von Spektr. He knows what he's talking about. Feathers, but I think he's the only one who
does."
"There
he is!" someone shouted and for a moment it seemed like chaos was about to
break out again as there was a sudden rush towards the church door, but
Frostfire's voice boomed out over the top of them once more as he called out,
"Wait! Listen to me, first, then do
as you will."
The crowd
began to still, though they remained restless and anxious. Sarah peered down at them over the top of the
railing and felt the tension rising with every second. She could only hope that, after everything,
Frostfire's word might finally diffuse the situation. And if they do, she asked herself, what
then? And how did we get here
anyway? How did we reach the point when
our enemy is the one who might finally make everyone see sense? Did I do this? Did Franck?
She sent a little prayer heavenwards, thanking her God for getting them
this far without bloodshed, and praying that, somehow, he would resolve the
situation once and for all.
"Go
on," Markus called form his place at the edge of the crowd,
"speak. We'll listen, for
now."
"My
people have legends," Frostfire began, "about
Those-Who-Came-Before. I have never
truly believed them, for they are told as stories to our cubs and slatelings
and though they teach many lessons, it has always been those lessons, not the
stories, that we remember as we shed our scales. What Von Spektr says is like one of those
stories. I would dismiss it, if I could,
but it is too similar. If Philosophers
and Shamans tell the same tale, then I fear it must be true.
"Our
legends tell us many things about Those-Who-Came-Before and they do not always
make sense together, but they all agree on a few clear points. They are very powerful. They are not to be trusted. They will come back one day. If Von Spektr thinks that that day is coming
soon, that all that we have done is part of the plan for their return, then I
believe him. You might not, but then you
would be fools."
Frostfire
stretched to his full height, tipped his head back and let out a sound unlike
any Sarah had ever heard before, a sort of rough, multi-pitched sound that
seemed half-screech, half roar. It
carried much further than Frostfire's voice had mere moments before and seemed
to echo off every building in an alarming fashion. Within the sound itself and even more so in
the echoes there were variations in tone and texture which suggested that, more
than just a single noise, it was actually a more complex form of
communication. The crowd beneath grabbed
their makeshift weapons tightly and stared up the Spiketail leader with fear in
their eyes, but no one moved. It seemed
that, to a man, they had lost their nerve.
Frostfire
closed his mouth, looked down at them all and waited for the noise to fade
away.
"I have
just told my people to back down. They
will drop their weapons and surrender to you.
Go, see for yourselves that this is the truth"
There was a
moment of mumbled confusion, of shuffling and questioning and uncertainty and
then, first in ones and twos, then in larger groups, then floods, the crowd
left the square and made their way to the walls to peer out beyond the defences
at the plains of ash and rubble beyond.
Sarah left Frostfire in the tower, running down the steps and unbarring
the church door to go and see for herself.
Minutes later she found herself standing atop the wall, mere feet away from
the friends who had betrayed her and whom she had, in turn, betrayed. Before
them lay a new land, buried in ash, swept clean by the wind and now peppered
with dropped spears and idle Stoneskins, their tents already being struck,
their battle lines melting into straggling departures. She stared at the landscape and at the faces
of her former companions and thought that she beheld something which was mirrored
in each, a fragment of something indefinable, something tentative and ineffable
and terribly fragile, something forgotten and now unlooked for, but which might,
just might, have been hope.
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