Unsealing

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Shyriath
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Re: Unsealing

Post by Shyriath »

Part 7: Survival

Picture a great island, far to the north. In fact, there are only a few lands in the world that reach further north than this. The northern half of the island is deathly cold, its shores touched by the ice that crowns the planet, its plains snow and rocky tundra, unshielded by trees and shunned by all but a few hardy lifeforms. The south is rolling and hilly, but more hospitable; here are grasses and meadows, and forests of conifers. It is separated from the north by a tangle of high, bleak mountains; here the biting winds that might have swept down from the north are caught and held forever, howling between the stoic peaks, beating against them with its fists, and freezing them with its breath. They endure through all of it, so that the green southlands need not suffer.

Picture one particular high mountain near the center of the island. In the fading light of day, its snowcapped summit is a red-gold beacon that shines over the land; to the west and south, the land falls away to the valleys below. It is spring down there, a land of green, where the streams cascade down and join into rivers, and the air is scented with pine and resonates with the sound of swans at the end of their northward journey. Higher up, on the slopes of the mountain, the trees become smaller and more stunted, and eventually peter out altogether, leaving the ground to grass and shrubs and rock; but even here the signs of spring can be seen, the slopes strewn with tiny flowers.

As the sun sinks down behind the ridges far off to the west, the last light of day falls on the slope. It is just possible to see, from the right vantage point, a portion of ground that is unlike the rest. It begins down in the valley, where the near end disappears into the trees and the rich soil, but winds its way back and forth up the slope in a long ribbon of flattened ground. It is not always easy to see, particularly lower down where it is overgrown by grasses and shrubs, but as it makes its way upward and the soil becomes thinner, one can see the shattered remains of some dense material.

At the top, where there are no more trees and the ground becomes rocky, the ribbon of ground can be seen as the remains of a great road, a slab of concrete riddled with cracks. Here, the mountainside flattens out into a shelf that overlooks the lands below, and the road crosses the shelf to a sheer wall of rock, where there is a great doorway leading into the very mountain itself. Vast doors of steel, fifty feet high, lie uselessly open, and indeed one lies on the ground, half-covered among the boulders that had smashed it free. Whoever the builders were, they are gone, and have been for ages. There is no movement besides that of one figure, lurking in the shadows beyond the doorway.

The sun continues to sink, and at last is hidden beyond the horizon. Though the western sky remains streaked with pinks, reds, and purples, the light fades rapidly, and twilight moves in to replace it. And the figure comes out of hiding, moving cautiously into the open...

Even though he and Kaia had been near the Great Gate only two weeks, Firtin Kur looked quite different than he had when they'd arrived. A bit leaner; much, much grubbier. The clothes he had been provided in Lattor were torn and tattered, especially on his sleeves and leggings; the skin underneath was scratched, the result of an encounter with some thorny bushes. A sort of makeshift poncho, formed from a mat of mosses that he had peeled up in the cave, covered the clothes now, but it was already getting dry and crumbly. Kaia had told him that there were supposedly animals whose fur could be used to make clothing, and he thought he had spotted likely ones grazing on the grassy slopes, but neither of them had any idea how to work with textiles. Nor, for that matter, was Firtin sure he could get the fur off the creatures. They had turned a slot-eyed gaze on him when he came near, and he had decided not to bother them.

The skin on his head, face and hands, meanwhile, were still slightly pink, a reminder of a several days ago when he had set out too early. He hadn't been stupid enough to go out into the blinding light of full day, but in the hours before sunset it was possible to see if you didn't mind squinting all the time. Nonetheless, he had only slowly become aware that his skin felt like it was burning, and by the time he had got back to the cave it had turned red and he was in terrible pain. In a way he couldn't put his finger on, Kaia seemed to have derived considerable satisfaction from telling him what an idiot he'd been.

On the other hand, Firtin thought as he crept down the hillside, she'd been sitting around for the past two weeks waiting for the swelling in her knee to go down with one arm strapped to a makeshift splint and held in a sling. She had a right to want to take out her frustration on someone; he just wished she'd had someone else to target. Anyway, it's not like he'd had any idea about that... beyond-violet-light she'd talked about.

Although it was Firtin who was mobile, Kaia's education was proving invaluable. Even among the Lattorith, little knowledge of the World Outside had been passed down, and Kaia didn't know even half of that, but what she did know had given him clues about what to look for, and what to avoid. She had told him about the possibility of edible berries to supplement the moss and fish in the cave (luckily, they had not yet managed to stumble across any poisonous ones, and so he was careful to pick only the ones they'd tried already). She had also saved him from an unpleasant encounter by warning him that there were animals outside much bigger than anything ever found in the World Inside, and he had been wary enough to move away when he'd spotted an enormous beast with... what looked like very pointy sticks coming out of its head. He would never have expected it.

By the time Firtin reached the grove where he'd been harvesting berries, the sky was beginning to fill with tiny pinpoints of light; to his eyes, they cast a faint haze of light over the landscape, even though the bright white crescent had not yet risen. He tried not to spend too much time looking at them; he found the sight mesmerizing. The first time he'd seen them, he recognized patterns in the brightest ones; they looked the same as the arrangement of metal discs in the roof of the Beacon Hall in Ezhku. It was sobering to think that the original builders, perhaps his own ancestors, had recreated the sky in their underground home, and then had forgotten what it meant.

Bent over the bushes with his makeshift bag, busy with his task and lost in his thoughts, he failed to hear the faint noises behind him.

"TSK."

Firtin twitched upright and tripped, falling into the bush. He struggled upright to the sound of laughter. "Kaia!"

She was standing behind him, still laughing. She was leaning on a pole, an old piece of metal piping he'd found in lying in the wreckage of the Shapers' Road.

Kaia gave him an amused look. "I did tell you you should be careful out here. Any sort of beast could've crept up on you."

Firtin mashed up a berry and flicked it at her face. It was his turn to grin. "Maybe you should be more cautious."

"Maybe I should, at that," she said, wiping the juice off. "Did you need any help?"

"No, I'm nearly done here."

As he finished up, Kaia looked up at the sky. After a while, she said, "You know, I'd heard of what it was like, but I never thought it would be like this..."

"What? Those lights?"

"Yes. They're like tiny diamonds, aren't they?"

"Yes..."

He tied the bag shut and stood up, looking at the innumerable stars. They stood and watched for a while, in silence.

At last, Firtin sighed. "Come on. We should go back inside."

As they worked their way up the slope, he said, "We should tell people, you know."

"Tell them what?"

"That this is here. That we can walk under the sky, like the ancients did. Everyone in there," and he pointed into the great doorway ahead, "thinks that all this is a legend, or some place of horrors. We can tell them they can reopen the Shapers' Road; we can tell them it's safe to come outside..."

"So long as they wait till after dark."

"Well... yes," he said, rubbing his pinkened skin.

Kaia gave him a brief smile, but her look became grave. "But we don't know how to get back. And, even if we did, there would still be a problem."

"What?"

"You are still a part of Lattor. And Lattor is still a secret."

Firtin blinked. "But I... I mean, isn't this important? Shouldn't people know? This is... it changes everything, about how we think-"

"Yes, yes," she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder as they passed through the great doorway. "They should know. But you can't go charging off to tell them, not if it threatens us to do so. There are other things to think about here."

He turned on her. "But they're not as big as this!" he yelled. He hesitated, and then added, "If I just went, by myself... I could tell them. I wouldn't let them know about Lattor. I don't want to see them try to destroy it, any more than you do. And you could go back there and let them know what happened-"

"No." Kaia looked him directly in the eye. "That is not your decision to make, nor is it mine. I am still your proctor, and I am responsible for your behavior. If our council determines that it is permitted for you to leave, then you may leave, but not before."

"Would you stop me if I went anyway?" he asked. "With a broken arm and a limp?"

"Will you make me try?"

They stared fiercely into one anothers' eyes, but at last it was Firtin's gaze that weakened first. He looked away.

"No."

Kaia nodded. "If it helps... I will do what I can to convince the Council to let you go."

"Thank you." He glanced down the Shapers' Road. "Provided we can get back somehow."

"I've given my leg enough time to heal. I can walk well enough for journeying again. We'll put as much food as we can in the bag, and we'll head out tomorrow."

-----

They were two days going east down the Shapers' Road, away from the Great Gate. After the chill of the mountain air outside, it felt musty and warm, like an old room untouched for many years. All around them was the debris of the Cataclysm; they climbed around and over the piles of rock littering the ancient floor. At last they came to a dead end. Here, the high roof of the passage had caved in entirely, filling it entirely with debris. Somewhere on the other side of it, Firtin knew, Ezhku hummed with activity, unaware of what lay beyond the barrier.

It had not been merely the roof, either. The smooth stone of the walls on either side were rent by great cracks, and Firtin and Kaia inspected them for possible exits into side caverns.

"This one looks promising," Kaia said, after several minutes. "It's the only one that really looks wide enough to admit anyone, at least."

Firtin peered inside. "There's no other way off the Road. Just back the way we got in, which ended at that pit; the gate to Outside; and this."

"Shall we go?"

"We might as well."

They squeezed through the crack, and continued on. The passage was narrow for its whole length; there were points where it was difficult to maneuver through, particularly with Kaia's arm still protected by its sling. They moved on through the darkness for several hours, occasionally stumbling on the smooth, rounded floor, and-

Firtin heard a faint rumbling in the distance, and it confused his echolocation for just long enough. He placed a foot into empty air, toppled, and fell; he landed seated on a smooth, slippery incline, and slid yelling into the darkness.

"Firtin!" Kaia yelled. Her voice echoed down the passage; there was no reply but a fading yell, and then, abruptly, a faint noise, and then only the distant rumbling.

"Firtin? Firtin Kur, you answer me this minute!" she shouted. "Are you all right?"

More rumbling silence, followed at last by Firtin's voice. It was too faint to make out any words, only a shrill tone; for all she could tell, he was screaming in agony. She bit her lip.

Most likely he's hurt, she thought. If I follow, I'll only injure myself. But there's no other way out. Where else will I go?

She hesitated, and then a hard look came over her face.

After all... I'm supposed to be looking after him.

Kaia Xen shielded her arm as best she could, took a deep breath, and followed Firtin into the darkness. The passage wound around and down; all around her the rumbling grew louder, as did Firtin's hysteric voice from below, and finally there was an abrupt end to the slide... and as she slid straight off the end, she realized that the shrill sounds Firtin was making was laughter.

And then, at the bottom of her fall, she hit water.

She floundered around with her good arm, sputtering and coughing, until Firtin paddled over and helped tow her to shallow water. They stood up, shaking with adrenaline; Firtin was still giggling under his breath. She stared in his direction, and then started flailing at him with her good arm. "Firtin Kur, you are a complete and utter idiot! A madman! A fool! I ought to kick you from here to Lattor..."

Firtin simply kept laughing and gasping for breath, shielding himself with his hands until he flopped down onto the ground. "Just... hah... wait... we'll walk..."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

He took a few moments to recover some of his breath, and then panted, "Listen!"

She stopped long enough to listen. There was a constant rumbling, coming from somewhere above. "What-" She wiped water from her eyes. "What in the name of the caves..."

It was too dark to see. But, listening to the echoes, she perceived something like a cylinder sticking out of the wall above; it sounded like it was rotating against the stone. Wherever they had just fallen from, it'd been further up than that; they'd been lucky not to hit the bottom of the pool.

Behind her, Firtin was chuckling again. "D'you know what that means?"

She shook her head in bewilderment.

"It means this is where I came in." Firtin sounded cheery. "Just let me get my breath back, and we'll go back to Lattor." He paused, then added generously, "I'll lead the way if you like."

In the pitch darkness, Firtin could feel the look Kaia gave him. When the shouted curses started flowing from her mouth, he began to laugh again, and kept laughing till she finally joined in.

It was worth it.
Shyriath Farstrider (aka Shyriath Bukolos), KD MOU OLH XBH
Viscount Farstrider of Erysisceptrum, Count Bukolos of the Condo, Harbinger of Cheese

TOTUS MUNDUS TABULAM RASAM EST

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Shyriath
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Re: Unsealing

Post by Shyriath »

Part 8: Unsealing

Their first debriefing took place almost immediately after their arrival in Lattor. The colony's council, twelve elderly scientists with weary faces, questioned them sharply about every detail of their experience. They went back for several hours for each of the next few days, sometimes together, sometimes separately, until everyone involved looked equally dazed. The question of whether or not Firtin would be permitted to tell the rest of civilization what had happened was carefully shunted aside.

At last, they were dismissed for two day's rest; though they had had time to eat and sleep and be examined by doctors, their souls needed time to settle. In truth, there was little else to distract them. They had, after all, been gone for several weeks; they had been presumed dead. Nalta Or had taken charge of the cabling team, and someone had been reassigned from Power Generation to pick up the slack. At the moment, neither Firtin nor Kaia were needed, and mostly they tried to use the opportunity to relax.

After the two days, they were summoned back to the council's private conference room. They took their seats in the middle of the chamber, with the desks of the council members spread out in a semicircle around them. The councilors looked harassed and tired.

"We have had time to digest your reports," said one. This was Felen Sha, Lattor's chief archivist, and de facto council foreman. "I'm still not sure it was enough time, but the discovery of a route to the Outside is a matter such that we could spend years talking about it and not reach the end. We could spend the time in better ways.

"Before we continue on that topic, I have several points to mention. Your report of the fight with Shuxal Kom in the cache chamber is consistent with subsequent discoveries. In particular, Shuxal's lung was pierced by the shot from the sidearm. We managed to interview him for a brief period, but he died from internal bleeding. Although his actions regarding the cache had already indicated some... mental disturbance, the interview was sufficient to confirm that supposition. We wish to reassure you that we feel both of you took as good a course of action as could have been expected under the circumstances.

"As for the canister contained in the chamber, we ordered a sensor package lowered into the chasm shortly after your return to attempt to locate it. There are no signs of the canister down to the package's operational temperature limits, and we believe that both canister and contents are in an environment in which they have either been destroyed already, or will be within a timeframe in which they are unlikely to present a threat. Because the canister was the entirety of the cache's contents, we consider that matter closed."

Kaia, visibly relieved, sagged into her chair. Firtin, however, sat bolt upright. "So... is there still a need for Lattor to remain a secret?"

Kaia glanced at him; the council members glanced at each other, and then Archivist Sha. She cleared her throat. "That, young man, is not a matter we have fully decided upon. We are not so far from Ezhku that the sudden revelation of our settlement's presence would be taken lightly. Without the stigma of a Shaper cache to hinder us, we believe that, over time, we can reintegrate with the rest of our people, and share our knowledge with them; but if that happens it will be far in the future yet."

She held up a hand as Firtin started to speak again. "We have also been considering your questions from previous sessions, Cabler Kur. We are not unaware of the import of what you and Kaia have found. Even in Lattor, none of us seriously expected to see they day when the way to the Outside would be found, or that it would be as hospitable as it is if we found it. A whole world we have never seen..."

The Archivist trailed off, and then refocused on Firtin. "Lattor's secrecy and that of its Shaper cache has always come first, Firtin Kur. Always. The first time you asked this of us, we were certain our answer would be no. But with the cache gone, the reasons for and importance of our secrecy have changed. We understand that you had stated an intention not to reveal the existence of our settlement?"

Firtin blinked, and then nodded. "Yes. Yes, I did." Neither he nor Kaia had mentioned that conversation to the council during any of the interviews he'd been in. He glanced over at her; she was gazing aimlessly down at the surface of her desk.

"Would you be willing to make that promise to this council?"

He looked back at the grave stares of the councilors. "…Yes. As it is, they won't have much reason to believe anything an exile tells them; trying to convince them I found the Outside would be hard enough without adding anything else."

"He'll need his old clothes," Kaia said, not looking up. "The ones we gave him will be suspicious. And he should have evidence. The bag we brought still had berries and some of the unfamiliar mosses and fungi in it."

"We have already considered these things, Electrician Xen." replied the Archivist. "Firtin Kur, in exchange for your promise, this council grants you permission to leave Lattor and return to Ezhku, to inform them that the Sealing Away has been undone. We know a route that connects with the Way of Broken Songs; you will be assigned an escort to take you near enough to the Way that you can make the rest of the way yourself."

Kaia suddenly looked up. "I wish to volunteer as escort," she said.

"Denied," Archivist Sha said flatly. "Thank you for your dedication, Electrician, but we have decided to assign you a new task, and there will be considerable preparation involved. We will give you further detail later – in private – but your proctorship over Cabler Kur is no longer in effect."

"…Yes, Archivist." Kaia's voice was carefully neutral, but uncharacteristically subdued; Firtin felt moved to glance over at her again.

"Very well." The Archivist seemed about to say something, but paused, looked at Kaia, and then at Firtin. Finally, she said, "We would prefer that both of you be about your tasks as soon as possible. However… after all, you have been through much together lately. I think allowing you a further day of rest would not be inappropriate?" She glanced around at the other council members, who nodded. "Excellent. You two may go. We have other matters to move on to today."

-----

Firtin and Kaia walked down the corridor that led back to their residences. They paused for a while to look at the damage from the earthquake; wall panels were being replaced and rooms refurbished, but the door that had led to the cache still hung askew. No one seemed sure what to do about it. In unspoken agreement, they continued on their way.

At last, Firtin asked, "Are you all right?"

Kaia did not look over; her moody expression remained aimed down the hall. "Why?"

"You… don't seem like yourself."

"I have things on my mind. That does happen sometimes."

"Did you want to talk about them?"

Kaia scowled at him. "You, on the other hand? I'm not sure a thought ever crosses your mind."

He blinked. He had no idea how to respond to that. "I… well, look, I'm preoccupied too. Going back after all this-"

She waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. I'm very well aware." She sighed. "But I suppose it is important."

Firtin stared at her. Clearly he was missing something here. And, quite suddenly, he thought he had an idea about what it was.

Maybe she has a point, he thought. Sometimes I am an idiot.

He thought for a few moments, and then said, "Um. Look-"

Kaia looked at his uncertain expression. "Yes?"

"Since we… since we still have tomorrow free before we have to… that is, have things to do, and we're both sort of rested up now, so it would be a waste to just sit around by ourselves doing nothing… perhaps we could enjoy the day a bit. We could see how Nalta and Upaku and the new kid are coming along, maybe, and then, er, there was that recreational area you showed me when I got here. I never did get to try it. And we could just… talk about things, maybe…"

Firtin trailed off. Kaia's dark expression had given way to a curious stare. Finally, she said, "Yes. Yes, I think that would be nice."

They had reached the intersection with the residential corridor; their respective quarters were at either end. Firtin fidgeted. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes. Good sleep."

"Good sleep."

Firtin Kur walked one way, toward his rooms. Kaia Xen stood and watched him for a while, and then turned around and began walking the other way. Once there was no possibility he could see her face, she smiled faintly.

"All right," she murmured to herself, "so maybe not a complete idiot."

-----

After Firtin and Kaia had left the conference room, the members of Lattor's governing council spent a few minutes in pause, trying to regain some tiny percentage of the energy and confidence they'd spent in the last few weeks.

Finally, one said, addressing the Archivist, "'A further day of rest', eh? You play serious better than anyone, Felen, but your soft-heartedness does come out at the strangest moments."

Felen Sha shrugged, and leaned back in her chair. "You all seemed to agree with it. Under the circumstances, then, I don't really feel like I have to answer to you on it."

There were amused smiles at the various desks, which quickly grew sober again.

The Archivist looked at them, and then nodded. "Back to work, then." She looked at a device on her desk, a sort of small gray box with a grille; a wire led from it to the wall. It was nondescript and unimpressive, and neither Firtin nor Kaia had even looked at it. Visitors rarely did.

The Archivist said, still looking at it, "Did you hear everything, sir?"

"Yes." The voice sounded crackly through the device, but was clearly that of an old man with a deep voice. It spoke Taxnim with an archaic, cultured accent.

"Do you think they'll do what they need to?"

"I imagine so. They're both capable young people. And it seems to coincide with their wants in any case."

The council members nodded, though the owner of the voice could not see them. One of them volunteered, "Sir… shouldn't we have told Kur about the contents of the canister?"

"It will be enough to tell Xen. For Kur, I have a feeling that knowing would not help him... and nor would it help the others out in the Beacons, if they were told. They would not understand what it was or what it could do; they would only share our ignorance of how to fight it. Nor is it likely to affect them for many years, if it spreads like we expect."

"Would it really have survived down there, in those conditions?" the Archivist asked.

"That is what it was designed to do… among other things." A sigh crackled through the device. "I am sorry, children. We did terrible things to you, but making this may yet prove the worst."

There was an embarrassed silence. Finally, someone said, "Will the ones who go to the surface be safe?"

"Safer than anywhere else," said the voice. "It would find it difficult to survive there, at least at first. It might be able to touch them with psionics, but at that range…" There was a pause. "I don't know. I really don't."

"It seemed to require the right kind of mind, at any rate," said another council member. "It got through to Shuxal Kom, but it's never affected any of the rest of us, not in all the years Lattor has been here."

"We cannot count on that," said the voice. "It might have been weakened, being dormant in the canister. Or if not, it could still get stronger."

"We've already started setting up the psionics research lab," said the Archivist. "But we only have a vague idea of where to start with it. You're sure you don't know anything, sir?"

"Psionics was something most of us never studied, or even really believed in. The team that made the contagion were the only ones. I'm afraid you're on your own, children. If there's a defense, you must find it."

Their looks were grim. Archivist Sha shook her head. "Very well. We'll do as we have to do. In the meantime, we can only arm the others as best we can. I've started drawing up a list of useful technologies."

The voice said, "I will leave you to your work. Good luck, children. To all of you."
Shyriath Farstrider (aka Shyriath Bukolos), KD MOU OLH XBH
Viscount Farstrider of Erysisceptrum, Count Bukolos of the Condo, Harbinger of Cheese

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Re: Unsealing

Post by ari »

Apparently we have someone here who can actually write a story with characters and things!
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Re: Unsealing

Post by Shyriath »

Thank you. Although, fun fact: they're all secretly hand puppets!

The grand conclusion will follow shortly...
Shyriath Farstrider (aka Shyriath Bukolos), KD MOU OLH XBH
Viscount Farstrider of Erysisceptrum, Count Bukolos of the Condo, Harbinger of Cheese

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Re: Unsealing

Post by Shyriath »

Part 9: Freedom

The caves ran for miles and miles beneath the mountains. No one knew them all; possibly no one would ever know them all.

Scattered throughout the upper layers were the Deep Singers, building, moving, living, dying. Compared to nearly any other caves anywhere, the ones they inhabited hummed with life and activity. A watcher, viewing them like workers in an ant farm, would have seen them from their beginnings, pushing out, learning, discovering. Oh, they were limited: by space, by resources. Above all, they were limited by a mysterious force that imposed limits on what they could create, though most of them never noticed. If an experimental and particularly advanced piece of machinery broke down inside of a few days, well, that was just how the world worked.

They couldn't have done anything about it, even if they had known. But as for space and resources, a very recent discovery had shown them some that they had never known existed. The ant farm had a crack in the side, and the workers would soon learn what was Outside.

But far below the caves that the Deep Singers called home, there was no such bustle. Here, there were simply endless tunnels, filled with silence and darkness… except for one chamber.

Here, by some trick of chance the force that broke down machinery was far, far weaker than in most places. And, long ago, before the Deep Singers had ever lifted up their voices, others had built a place here for their own purposes.

An underground river flowed through the chamber. All around it was green, thicker and more luxurious than in any Deep Singer farm: mosses and fungi covered the walls, but nearer the water, growing on a thin layer of soil, were leafy plants, growing happily in the bright light from the lamps studding the cavern ceiling. In a pool, fed from diverted water from the river, fish and other creatures managed an unconcerned existence.

In the midst of the green was a small building. It was featureless metal, blocky and unadorned, as if built by people who had needed it there for a purpose, but had not expected to have to visit often or for long. Nonetheless, for a very long time now, it had been used not only as a workshop, but as a home. It was cramped, but sufficient for one person.

He walked out of the entrance, leaning on a cane. Though bent with age, more age than he cared to think about, he would have once been quite tall, at least six feet. His skin, even in this world without sunlight, was dark, and brown eyes looked out from a wide, pleasant face. His hair was mostly gone, but what was left was white and frizzled. His clothes were simple and somewhat disheveled, old but frequently patched.

He looked out over the cavern, thinking about past sins. Some of them had been entirely his, and others he'd simply taken part in, and many more than that he'd known about, but hadn't spoken up against. He and the others (and there had once been many others) hadn't even considered that there was wrong that they could be doing. It had all been for the greater good. And, maybe, some of it really had turned out that way. Even though children might be abused, neglected and then abandoned, they can still grow into the kind of adults to put their parents to shame; and indeed they had. He could be at peace with himself about that.

But not everything he and the others had done had been worth it. He'd come to that conclusion a long time ago, and if ever he'd needed proof of it, now he had it. Things, once done, cannot be undone, and one of them would rear its head all too soon. He wished, more than anything, that there was something he could do; perhaps, in the old days, he and the others could have.

But there were no others anymore. There was only him, and all he could do was wait and watch.

He said, in a language only he remembered:

"Be safe, children."

And he looked down at the ground, as if he could stare through the earth.

-----

…And lower yet, beneath even the deepest caves, there was a world of pressure, and heat, and tortured rock. Here, two of the great plates that made up the crust of the world butted heads, one forced up towards the surface, the other pushed downward to merge sluggishly into the mantle. Between them, the stone of the earth was a maze of fractures filled with superheated water and studded with chambers of magma.

And, in the midst of all this… something else. Some things.

Even the great ant-farm watcher would not have seen them, unless they'd had a very good microscope. Even then, just from looks, it would have been hard to say what was special about them. Put a sample on a slide next to some microbes scooped out of common soil, and a casual observer would barely notice the difference. Yet here, in the fractures, in what nearly anything else would call Hell, they spread and thrived. They had shelter, and water, and warmth. Their few other physical needs were satisfied by the minerals around them. This was remarkable enough.

More remarkable still, and what would have been even harder to notice, was how coordinated they were, how they sought out places to grow and filled them, how they branched out. They moved slowly, by the standards of such things, but with strange purpose.

Most remarkable of all, they whispered among themselves. There was no voice that could be heard with ears, but there were plenty that could be heard with the right kind of mind, if only one could get close enough. They were soft, indistinct, like the murmuring of a distant and subdued crowd, except communicating nothing so complex; just sensations, and feelings. Sometimes, from a group of them that were particularly close, there would be a brief cry of something more, a sort of realization. Sometimes, if there were particularly many nearby, that spark would touch off the same reaction in others.

None of them made a difference; they were too few and far between. The cries faded and died back into murmur. But the little things continued to multiply, and the whole continued to grow, and the whisperings more concerted. It would only become easier for the reactions to spread.

In the meantime, the things dreamed.

singsingunitylittleoneswecomebelovedhungerdestinyrejoicewewillgrowwewillbecome

And, far above…

-----

It had been a little over two years.

The great Beacon of Ezhku crackled with excitement. In the Beacon Hall itself, which even at the most quiet of times buzzed with the sounds of conversation and commerce, there was a constant roar. It was the sound of many, many people, from here, from near, and from far, laughing, and talking, and holding their own little pre-celebrations that were just waiting for the right moment to come together as one great joyous event.

The crowd was thickest around the west end of the Hall, where members of the Gate-Watch and the Beacon-Watch had lined up together to keep any from passing, and stood looking eagerly, even wistfully, down the Shapers' Road. Two years ago, the Road had ended only a few hundred kithir out, blocked by a great wall of fallen rock and debris; but now it stood entirely open again, the broken floor and ceiling all that was left of their presence. Soon, the Shining Council had said, once further repairs had been done, it would be open to everyone.

It had been a controversial move. There were still some people, and indeed some Beacons, that were horrified by the idea of people just being able to wander Outside, and indeed do so whenever they liked. But the Road was under Ezhku's jurisdiction, and legally no one could tell them what to do with it. Anyway, the idea couldn't've been budged with a big crowbar. Even the Council members who had private misgivings recognized that travelers wanting to go Outside would have to pass through Ezhku first. And while they were here, they'd be needing supplies, tools, instruction in how to survive, maybe the assistance of one of the still-small number of knowledgeable scouts... all sorts of potentially taxable things.

Aside from the mob near the Road, the crowd also thickened around the northeast of the Hall, around the road to one of the recreational caverns. There, several hundred people, mostly young and enthusiastic, had been bivouacked for the last week or so, volunteers for the first large-scale expedition to the Outside. They, too, had been under the protection of the Watch; partly to keep them from being bothered by the crowds, partly to keep anyone from joining the group surreptitiously. As far as the Watchmen could tell, they'd succeeded; although since the participants, nearly all total strangers, had welcomed each other indiscriminately, it was hard to say whether a newcomer would be noticed, or if anyone in the group would want to notify the guards if they were.

They had gathered in clusters at one end of the cavern, chatting excitedly; they were finishing their packing, checking their utility staves, putting on their traveling clothes. Many of them were inspecting the most unfamiliar items, the goggles of smoked glass (those trained in chemistry and metallurgy, who had used them before, were explaining them to the others) and the wide, conical metal hats (although many of them had used safety helmets before, none had been like these). A few scouts were moving among them, reminding them of their itinerary and giving out hard-earned advice.

At the other end, a lone figure was stretched out on a cot; he was already garbed in his traveling clothes, with goggles hung around his neck, and his hat on his head – or at least, pulled down over his eyes. He had spoken with the others very little over the past few days, and they had not sought him out, not because they hadn't noticed him, but in the manner of people keeping an awed and respectful distance.

Firtin Kur had been getting a lot of that, over the past two years.

Although he was trying to nap, it was hard not to be lost in his thoughts. So much had changed, not least of which was that people seemed to think he was some kind of holy object. He had found this objectionable, but the problem with being venerated is that people will do almost anything you tell them to except to stop venerating you. It was just as well that he'd been obliged to spend so much time trying to train the other scouts; it kept him away from people, and the scouts at least treated him like a mortal. After all, he'd had only two weeks more experience than any of them, so he had managed to learn as much from their observations as they had from his.

He hadn't really wanted to come on this expedition. It wasn't necessary, either; there were enough scouts now to help guide the others. But the Council had insisted, because of the symbolism. Kur the Unsealer, leading the way! It was veneration again, but the argument that it would be essential for morale had swayed him at last.

It was a great task, to be sure. Founding the first Beacon beyond the bounds of the World Inside! Thousands would have leaped at the chance. And there was reason to think it would work well; the caves they'd found were well sited, had plenty of access to water and metal deposits. And the view…

Beneath his hat, Firtin's eyes stared at the view. The caves were behind a cliff, a great escarpment, and the night they'd found it he'd gone up to see what below it. There had been water, endless water, stretching to the ends of the world.

It had been a marvelous view. But he knew what would happen: he would be stuck there, with that view, and with the new Beacon, and he would get involved and keep getting involved and he might never come back. And he didn't want that… or rather, he didn't want that yet. Not until there was someone else he could show it all to.

There had been four of them, outside the entrance to Lattor: himself, his escort, and to see him off, Archivist Sha… and Kaia.

The Archivist had said, "I've studied the history of the Beacons. There are times when the course of things changes forever, as an earthquake might change the course of a cave passage. For those who are there, at the center of things, the moments are hard, even dangerous; but because of where they are, all that comes after depends on them. You will shape things, young Kur; be sure to shape them well." And she'd shaken his hand.

And then he'd looked into Kaia's face. He'd thought it would be hard, that he would see the disappointment there and that his own would come out and he'd have to be… pulled away, or something…

But that's not what had happened. There was sadness there, yes; but he'd seen, on her mouth and in her green eyes, that very, very faint smile of hers, the one that meant she knew something he didn't and would be grinning at him later.

She'd simply said, "Cheer up. You never know what will happen."

Even blinking back tears, he'd had to smile back.


"Firtin?"

He sighed, raised the brim of his hat, and squinted up at the scout who'd spoken. "Is it time, Enri?"

"Yes. The Council just sent word."

Firtin sighed deeper, and stood up. "I suppose I have to play leader now?"

"You could always resign. I think you'd have to un-discover the Outside first, though."

Firtin gave his comrade a disgusted look.

"I mean, if you are going to do that, you might want to get started," Enri added.

"Do you mind?" Firtin cupped his hands around his mouth, and addressed the colonists. "Everyone, get ready to leave! Make sure you have everything! When we leave the cave, keep close together! The Watch will be escorting us through the crowd, so don't stray beyond them!

The chatting groups began to break up; the more prepared were already gathering at the entrance, while the others were quickly rounding up their packs, tools, and other effects. Firtin picked shouldered his own pack, grabbed his utility staff, and strode toward the entrance; the other scouts began herding the colonists into a tight group. Then, keeping a slow, even pace, the expedition strode out, the escort falling in around them.

When they entered the Beacon Hall, the sudden noise and cheering hit them with near-physical force. The wide, tiled floor, and the galleries on the floors above, were crammed with people, flying banners and shouting encouragement. A number of the colonists felt moved to wave, grinning foolishly; Firtin simply folded his ears against the noise and did his best, insofar as was possible, to lurk underneath his hat as he walked. Although the Hall only took a few minutes to cross, even through the unprecedented crowds, it felt like hours.

At last, they reached the cordon blocking the Shapers' Road; the lines of Watchmen stepped aside to let them through, their fellow officers in the escort spreading out to cover the gap. Firtin breathed out, but his relief was short-lived; assembled on the other side of the cordon were the members of Ezhku's Shining Council. Standing nearby, considerably more aloof, were a large portion of the high Illuminating Council, the representatives wearing robes in the colors of their native Beacons.

The foreman of the Shining Council began making a speech to his fellows and to the colonists, making a point of the enormity of the occasion, of the bravery of the colonists, and incidentally of Ezhku's role in the whole business. Firtin tried to tune it out. He had steadfastly refused to make a speech of his own, and he really wished he didn't have to hear anyone else's.

Finally, leaving the cheers and the speeches behind them, the expedition marched off, following the road to their future.

Some distance up the tunnel, as the crowd of hundreds began passing through, a figure detached itself from the shadows by the near wall and fell in behind the group, entirely unnoticed.

-----

Three days later, the group was near the other end of the Shapers' Road; it was day outside, so they waited out of reach of the light until nightfall, trying to rest. The trained medics in the group were already tending to the ones who, in the face of previous warnings, had decided to try sneaking a look directly at the Great Light. Fortunately, none of them had tried it for more than an instant, so once the headaches went away and they stopped seeing purple spots, no doubt they'd be fine.

One of the colonists was crouched down, rummaging around in her pack. Another, standing nearby, noticed and asked, "Were you missing something?"

She looked up. She was wearing her hat, which from this angle made it hard to see her face, but she smiled and said, "Oh, no. Everything's here, but I just wanted to check."

"Personal belongings?" said the other, knowingly. "It's hard to keep track of everything. I've got a little engraving of the parents that keeps getting buried under things."

"Yes. These are a bit more utilitarian, though. Books. No one ever thinks about books. You never know what kind of information will come in handy until you're missing it, y'know."

"That's true," he agreed. "Good to know there's a practical thinker around."

The woman closed her pack again, looked around, and then said, "Have you seen… you know, him?"

The other colonist looked amused at the oblique reference. "Oh yes. He's over there, against the wall." He glanced at the solitary figure, who was sitting, arms around his knees, staring up the slope toward the Great Gate. "He seems kind of… distracted."

"Yes," said the woman absently. "He's probably got strong memories of this place."

"I don't think I've met you before. My name-" The colonist trailed off. The woman had picked up the pack, slung it over her shoulder, and without another word, had started walking toward the sitting figure.

Firtin's hat was over his eyes again. He heard footsteps approach, but, again busy with his thoughts, chose not to react to them. He heard the sound of the person dropping their pack on the floor and sitting down next to him; he suppressed a sigh.

A familiar voice said, "Pardon me; is it all right if I join you?"

Firtin's eyes snapped open. He raised the brim of the hat and turned his head, finding a woman's face only about a foot away from his own. Under the brim of her hat, a pair of emerald-green eyes shone with mirth, and the mouth was spread in an enormous grin.

He felt a foolish smile of his own start to form.

"Yes," he murmured. "That'd be wonderful."
Shyriath Farstrider (aka Shyriath Bukolos), KD MOU OLH XBH
Viscount Farstrider of Erysisceptrum, Count Bukolos of the Condo, Harbinger of Cheese

TOTUS MUNDUS TABULAM RASAM EST

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Harvey
Ghost of Christmas Past
Posts: 1780
Joined: Thu Nov 25, 2010 3:27 pm

Re: Unsealing

Post by Harvey »

I fell way behind on reading this, which is nothing less than a crime. Wonderful, wonderful. Almost makes me feel bad about my state being forced to distrust you guys. :-D

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Shyriath
CONDOLORD
Posts: 1444
Joined: Mon Dec 27, 2010 1:45 am

Re: Unsealing

Post by Shyriath »

Thank you. I think. :geek:
Shyriath Farstrider (aka Shyriath Bukolos), KD MOU OLH XBH
Viscount Farstrider of Erysisceptrum, Count Bukolos of the Condo, Harbinger of Cheese

TOTUS MUNDUS TABULAM RASAM EST

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