Eruption

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Shyriath
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Eruption

Post by Shyriath »

(OOC: I'm still working to finish Unsealing, but I have to get the ball rolling on some other things, so I'm starting this one as well. This should be a much shorter endeavor, with one or at most two other posts afterward; mostly it's to help trigger Kennerextith involvement with other statelets.)

Kathalxai was burning.

Before their emergence into the World Outside, the Deep Singers had never known mountains as other would know them, naming them by their towering peaks. But they tunneled everywhere, and they could see the shape of rock strata, and without knowing how well it corresponded to the heights above they gave a name to each mountain. Kathalxai was among the most feared, for unlike the stony cores of most mountains, its own heart burned with liquid fire, and after the first explorers no one had tunneled there since. But they knew that the earth moved, and that sometimes the fire escaped.

The earth began to move. And, its blockage freed, the fire of Kathalxai poured forth. In the World Outside, lava poured down mountainsides, and ash was vomited forth into the skies. But few lived nearby, and those who did could flee.

Beneath the surface, even some distance away from Kathalxai itself, circumstances were not so kind.

-----

Four figures trudged through a shattered passage. All four wore bulbous helmets, rigidly attached by pipes to metal casks carried on their backs, and they wore what looked like heavy plate armor. Attached to their heavy belts, and carried on a cart, were an astonishing variety of tools and devices. Merely wearing the suits was hard work; moving and carrying everything was harder… but not knowing what was ahead, they might need any or all of it.

It was dark in the passage, but the darkness was something their lamps could not penetrate; a thick, smoky, choking gloom enveloped them.

Surveyor Dular An began tapping on the side of his helmet with a metal-gloved finger, filling the tunnel with echoes; the others stopped to listen.

The gate should be a few hundred kithir ahead.

Another replied in a similar tapping-code, That close, and the air like this… I don't think we're going to like what we find.

There was a moment of sober silence. Intilinam was a small Beacon; the population of Ezkhu or Naidax outnumbered it fifty to one. But the thought of a whole Beacon gone…

Dular An simply shook his head inside the confined of the helmet, and started trudging onward again.

Some twenty minutes later, the outlines of the Beacon's gate could be made out through the roiling blackness. The way was open; the stone door had been simply battered to pieces. The bodies of the Watchmen assigned to guard it lay scattered around.

One of the surveyors clumsily knelt down to examine a body, brushing aside the dust and grime that had settled on the skin. [i[]Looks like asphyxiation,[/i] he tapped.

They pushed on into the squared-off corridors, hoping to find signs of survivors before it was time to return to the base camp. Dular led the way toward the Beacon Hall; he had visited Intilinam before. He struggled to keep himself from comparing what it had once been with its present state. Walls cracked and crumbled, bodies scattered everywhere…

The surveyors came out into the Beacon Hall, and paused in the doorway.

"Dear Voices…" muttered Dular.

The faulting had gone through the Beacon Room like a hot knife through butter; one half of the room was one or two kithir shorter than the other. The Beacon light itself, set in an alcove nearby, had been broken and stood dark. The greasy fumes filling the air oozed from the crack, further poisoning air already far too foul to breathe. Many, many bodies…

But here, the bodies looked… different.

Dular leaned down to inspect one, and recoiled. The corpse's spine was arched in a fashion that should not be possible without breaking; the limbs were twisted, not as if the arms had been broken, but as if they had simply bent or warped. And there were, were things, protrusions of bone, sticking out at all angles, as if new bones had decided to start growing and didn't care where. Each protrusion was tipped with little blue crystals, like lifeless flowers.

Unsurprisingly, the expression on the corpse's face was one of utter agony.

Dular, shuddering, turned away and fell to his knees next to the shattered Beacon, and forced himself not to throw up. If it got into the air system, he risked choking on it. But it was hard, very hard…

childchildlittleonewhychildseeyounotbelovedbeautycrystalwhylittleone…?why

Dular blinked. What had…? He shouldn't be able to hear words through the helmet. And… they hadn't sounded like a normal voice… sort of hissing, or singing…

showwewilllittleoneseeseewewillshowwatchlisten!

He felt light-headed. Was his air leaking out? Was it making him hear things?

On the floor around him, the dust seemed to move…

watch…listen…

Dular felt dizzy. He started tapping his helmet. Not feeling well. We should go back-

The dust around him moved faster, like water on the boil…

A vibration started coming up through his boots, and then shuddered through the walls. The terrible sound of rock grinding and groaning within itself filled the air.

The tapping could only barely be heard over the noise. Aftershock! Out of here, NOW-

The remains of the Beacon, which had begun swaying, back and forth, fell over with a crash; Dular, falling to the ground and rolling aside, saw two of the other surveyors go beneath it. He moaned, and the voice echoed in his helmet.

A crash from the other side of the hall told of a section of roof falling in. Dular tried to struggle back to his feet, wincing as he put his hand on something sharp and quickly jerked back and onto his feet, putting his other hand on the wall to steady himself against the shaking. He glanced down; he'd nicked his hand on one of the crystal-tipped bones. But… he had metal gloved on, how had-

A pair of hands grabbed him and started pulling him. Dular looked up to see his remaining teammate, silently urging him to follow, and they began running back to the cart…

runrun?nofearwithyouwearewithyounowforevernofearlittleone

The dizziness started overcoming him again. And the voice (voices?) was… not louder, but bigger, filling his mind.

nofearwatchweareherewatchingyousafenow

Dular stumbled. Darkness poured in.

hearuswitnesswehavecomewearewithyouatlastforever

His companion staggered as Dular fell, losing consciousness. Cursing, he levered the limp body onto the cart, and began pushing it down the long passage back to base camp.

-----

Dular An did not awaken for nearly two days. He seemed unharmed, except for his hand; something had punched through the armored glove like an awl. Even there, though, he had only been scratched, and the medics in Xinau were at a loss to explain his unconsciousness.

At last, when his eyes began to open, the chief medic was summoned to his bedside. She murmured, "Surveyor An? I am Doctor Erkil Naldi. Can you hear me?"

Dular did not speak for some time; he seemed to be trying to focus on her face. His eyes looked… strange. They had been blue, but now they were more so, somehow…

"Surveyor? Can you hear me?"

He mumbled, "It is hard…"

"You have having trouble hearing me?"

"They are speaking…"

Doctor Naldi glanced at the lesser medics, and then looked back at Dular. "Who is speaking, Surveyor?"

"The Voices…"

And then the doctor realized what it was about his eyes that were different.

The irises were glowing.

Dular An smiled beatifically. "The Voices want me to help them. They are with me. They will be with us all, soon. And they want me to help them."
Last edited by Shyriath on Fri Jul 29, 2011 1:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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: Eruption

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Awww :(

Was there any point when someone screamed "Fire! Death! Flee!"?
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Re: Eruption

Post by Shyriath »

...Sure!
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: Eruption

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In Ezhku, greatest of Beacons, home of fifty thousand souls, the hum of everyday life never ceased. Even at the quiet speaking volume of Deep Singer conversation, its corridors were filled with the endless rustle of voices; its Beacon Hall, the social center of the inhabitants and a marketplace containing merchants from across Kennerext, was a permanent riot of sound and color. It never ceased...

Except for today.

At the announcement platform at the north end of the Hall, an attendant quietly waited by the great bronze bell. Below, though the din of voices continued, they were subdued; many of the colored banners, one could see, had been replaced by plain black edged with silver tassels.

A messenger ducked through the crowds and hurried up to the platform, whispering to the attendant; the attendant nodded, picked up the hammer, and swung it against the bell.

BONG.

As the sound rolled out over the crowds, it left silence behind it. The few merchants still singing out about their wares fell quiet; conversations ceased; the people stopped moving, except to turn their heads expectantly.

BONG.

The ranks of the Beacon-Watch emerged from the entrance of the Eastern Passage, walking slowly and solemnly. The crowd moved aside for them without speaking, leaving an empty corridor in their wake. The watchmen in the rear broke off, two by two, to line the route; the ones in front continued on to the entrance of Enxai's Walk, the main northern route from the Hall and the one that led to the chambers of the Illuminating Council.

BONG.

And now, following the path opened by the Watch, came the councilors themselves; each one wore robes resplendent with the colors and symbols of their Beacon, but on this day a black mantle was worn over them, edged, like the banners, with silver. At their head walked, as precedence demanded, the Speaker of Ezhku, who carried in his hands a finely-made hammer and chisel; behind him, in a row, were the Speakers of Naidax, Kaldim, and Saxir, the three next eldest Beacons, together carrying a long black cloth. Behind them, in turn, were the Speakers of the four hundred or so other Beacons, walking sedately in rank upon rank.

The Speaker of Ezhku took a deep breath, and then lifted his voice in mournful song, joined only shortly after by the three behind him. The chorus of the Lament for Sondir floated out over the crowd, joined soon after by the voices of the assembled Council intoning the words of the first verse. Some few in the crowd joined in; but it was not a song that had much occasion to be heard, except as practice for those times (rare though it was hoped they would be) when it would be needed. Most knew it only by reputation, and the knowledge that they were hearing it at last brought them only tears.

The Beacons mourned the passing of one of their own.

The procession passed through the Beacon Hall, onto Enxai's Walk, and filed into the speaking hall, the largest of the Council Chambers; here, concentric circles of chairs, carved from soapstone, faced down into a central pit. Upon the back of each chair was engraved the name-glyph of a Beacon, and every Beacon had a chair. Still singing, each Speaker filed to their seat and stood before it, but those of Ezhku, Naidax, Kaldim, and Saxir proceeded into the pit.

There, in the middle of the floor, was another seat. The name-glyph, for those who knew it, said:

INTILINAM

The lament ended. The four Speakers in the midst of the floor bowed their heads, and then looked up at their fellows in the gallery above. The Speaker of Ezhku said, "People come and go; great families dwindle into obscurity; but the Beacons live on. In the darkness, they give us Light, and continue where all else fails. A Beacon may be left empty, without people, without power, without song, but even then it only sleeps, waiting for these to return to it. It sleeps, but it lives. Only three times before, in all the history of our people, has a Beacon died at last, its light shattered and dispersed forever." He paused to take a shuddering breath, and managed to continue, "Today... a fourth is added to their number."

Shuffling forward to the chair in front of him, the Speaker held the chisel he had been carrying point-downward on the seat; he lifted the hammer, and struck. The hammer rose and fell, pounding the steel point into the soft soapstone; when it had been driven into the seat several inches, so that it was stuck firmly without having to be held in place, the Speaker stopped hammering and stood aside. The three other Speakers, bearing the long black cloth, draped it over the chair as a shroud, and at a signal, several attendants picked up the chair and took it away.

The Speaker of Ezhku spoke up again. "Sondir, scoured by fire. Anjetan, killed by treachery. Kensel, buried by stone. And, now, Intilinam, poisoned and broken. Let them be remembered."

"They shall be remembered," chorused the other Speakers.

The four Speakers in the pit finally ascended to their own seats, and the assemblage sat down.

The Speaker of Ezhku tapped the small bell attached to his desk, signalling the beginning of the session. "Now," he began, "the first order of business-"

The sound of another bell, smaller and producing a higher pitch, rang out. The Speaker of Naidax, and eloderly woman with a cane, spoke up. "Honored Speaker, forgive the interruption; but Naidax requests the speaking-right for a moment on a matter related to the agenda."

The Speaker of Ezhku hesitated briefly. He had suspicions about which direction this session would go from here. Sadly, he had no grounds for refusal.

"The speaking-right is granted. The honored Speaker of Naidax may proceed."

"Thank you." The woman got unsteadily to her feet. "Fellow speakers, some of you may have heard that there is extraordinary testimony of conditions after the death of Intilinam. The head of the exploratory mission to the lamented Beacon, Dular An, was one of two survivors of the aftershock that occurred during their visit, and prior to losing consciousness he perceived some strange phenomena-"

The Speaker of Ezhku tapped his bell three times. "Honored Speaker, may we ask what relation this has to the matter of the agenda?"

"Naidax merely believes that this assembly should hear the Surveyor's testimony, Honored Speaker." The words were calm enough, but the Naidaxith was staring daggers at him. "Out of respect for lost Intilinam, and because the information he provides may have bearing on our preparations for other earthquakes."

The Ezhkuyith suppressed a groan. He'd been right; he could see where this was going... especially since, like many of the others, he'd already gotten some word on what this An had been saying.

"Perhaps so," he replied aloud, "but this witness will need time to respond to any summons. Under the circumstances, it hardly seems urgent that a vote on the issuance of that summons be placed ahead of the rest of this assembly's agenda."

"Forgive the contradiction, honored Speaker," she said, "but Surveyor An is, in fact, already present in Ezhku... indeed, he is in the waiting room."

Another bell sounded. "Will the honored Speaker of Naidax permit Xinau the speaking-right?"

She inclined her head politely to the requesting Speaker. "Naidax so yields."

As she sat down, the Xinauyith Speaker stood up. "Honored Speakers, as he is an inhabitant of our Beacon, I must confirm that the Surveyor is present. Indeed, he has asked me to submit a petition on his behalf to speak before this Assembly about what he has seen and heard."

The Ezhkuyith, seething, glanced over at the Naidaxith, who was giving him an unpleasant smile.

He tapped his bell again. "The speaking-right is withdrawn. Let this assembly vote: shall this petition be placed at the head of the agenda? Yes, or no."

Attendants fanned out among the Speakers, carrying small bags; into these each Speaker placed a round stone, either white or black. These were taken back to the Speaker's desk, where they were tallied; but the pile of white stones was slightly larger.

"It is so voted," muttered the Ezhkuyith. "Two hundred and twenty-three have voted yes, one hundred and ninety-six have voted no. The matter of the petition shall have first place on the agenda. Let this assembly vote: shall the petition be heard? Yes, or no."

The stones were collected again. This time the count was three hundred thirty-five to eighty-four.

The Ezhkuyith was silent for a moment, then tapped his bell three times. "Let the Surveyor be escorted into the chamber."

-----

Some of the Speakers had heard stories. When a would-be prophet walked the world, stories soon cropped up; not only did it cause comment, but it was the kind of comment that Beacons and officials everywhere kept an ear out for.

With few exceptions, most Beacons these days were governed by Shining Councils. They were not always, or entirely, elected, but they were by and large representative of their people, and strove to work for their interests, or at least believed they did. It was a power structure suited to the mentality of the Deep Singers, who banded together with those nearest to them and kept a polite distance from everyone else; a Council provided a forum for interaction where the different interests could be carefully balanced. No one was more aware of this than the Councilors themselves.

Another thing the Councilors knew, which most people did not remember, was that there was another kind of authority that could be drawn upon. They knew that few things united people more than faith, which cut across cladistic rivalries and petty squabbles. They knew that, most of the time, there was little of the required fervor to break down the barriers that required the Councils to be overcome; but that, sometimes, a person who knew the right way of speaking, who resonated, who could grip the hearts and souls of people in their fist, could spark that fervor again. And they remembered, particularly, that there had been a time before the Councils, when faith had burned in peoples' eyes like fire, and when prophets, speaking with the authority of the Voices of the Earth, had been kings.

The governments of most Beacons, therefore, kept a very careful eye on those who seemed to hear the Voices more clearly than others. Most, if asked, would have said: there are such things as false prophets, and the people must be protected from them. And this, so far as it went, was not too far from the truth.

There were some, however, who merely looked for the true prophets.

The doors of the great chamber opened again, and, flanked on either side by a member of the Beacon-Watch, Dular An walked in. He looked thin and frail, in the manner of one who was malnourished; but he strode in as if he owned the world. His gaze was not downcast, and his expression was not nervous in the least; he looked back at the assembled Speakers above him directly and with concentration, as if he could see into their heads. And it seemed, to those who looked back, that the irises of his eyes gleamed more than they should in the dim lights.

The Speaker of Ezhku cleared his throat. "Surveyor Dular An of Xinau, your petition has been heard by this assembly and been found meritable. We invite you to speak of your mission in Intilinam."

"Honored Speakers, I thank you," Dular said. His voice was unnervingly serene. "I am eager to recount what I saw. We entered into the Beacon to find the air filled with poisonous fumes, and the Beacon hall rent by faulting. The Beacon light itself had been cast down and broken by the tremors.

There were little gasps, not of surprise, but of sadness. The Beacon's light was its soul.

Dular continued, "I am sorry to say that there were none left alive. Most bodies showed the signs of asphyxation, and we must assume that they were taken by the fumes. But there were some few who appeared to have had a different fate. I did not understand what it meant, and I was sickened. But then I was spoken to, by the Voices, and They asked me - now that I know - They asked me why I felt so."

There was an increased murmuring; it was brought to silence by three taps of the Ezhkuyith's bell. "Allow me to clarify several things. You believe you heard the Voices of the Earth? Clearly?"

"I do not believe," said Dular calmly. "I simply heard Them. But They were not so clear at the time. Our minds are small things, and I found it hard to understand the Voices then. It was as if They sang in chorus... or spoke over top of one another, perhaps. It is difficult to describe."

"And... this is why you said 'now that I know'? You have gained some hindsight?"

"Oh, yes."

The Speaker hesitated, and then asked, "Why did they ask about your disgust, do you think?"

"The dead had been taken in a way that twisted them. But the Voices had a reason for doing it that way, and it hurt Them that I did not see it myself."

"...I see. Please continue."

"Their presence made me dizzy. I fell to the ground, and then they spoke to me again, warning me they were about to act again... and then there was the aftershock. That was when the other party members were killed, when the remains of the Beacon fell on them. I fell back to the ground and cut my hand, and then the Voices sort of... filled my head." Dular's voice became distant, distracted. "There was... darkness. Yes. And the Voices. I couldn't feel my own body for Their presence..."

He trailed off. At last, he added, "I'm told I went unconscious, and that Kirlu pulled me out. But it didn't feel like that at all. It seemed that I was awake, and the Voice swirled around me as if I were in the midst of a whirlpool. And I felt heat, and I saw..." he hesitated. "I did not see Them. I don't think They can be seen. But I saw Their dwelling place, far below. There was stone, and fire, and steam, and pressure. We would die in such a place, but for that time I knew what it was to live there and take delight in it. They showed me. And They told me everything-"

Dular was being drowned out again. Discussion and arguments were breaking out among the Speakers; the Ezhkuyith rang his bell to no avail.

Dular continued, "And then I awoke, and I knew They were with me." His eyes, before merely gleaming, began to glow brighter. "With me, not merely speaking to me!" He spread his arms out, and shouted, "Hear me, honored Speakers!"

The noise subsided again as the Speakers, heard the noise, turned to look, and fell silent one by one as they saw his eyes. He stood in the midle of the floor, arms still extended, a wide smile on his face, tears of some terrible joy coursing down his face.

"Hear me!" he repeated. "The Voices are with me! See upon me the mark of Them! They have commanded me to bring Their message to you! Know that They are no longer content to be heard as whispers and rumors and vague signs! They are coming to dwell with us and in us!"

A silence followed. One of Dular's tears fell; the little tinkling sound it made as it hit the floor was strange and terrifying.

He said, in a trembling voice, "They have told me what must be done. They will be with all of us soon, but we must prepare the way for Them. Honored Speakers, I speak for the Voices. Follow me... and them. We will grow. We will become."

The Speaker of Ezhku found himself breathing shallowly. He said, in a weak voice, "Become what?"

"What we were supposed to have been."

A faint clicking noise caused them all to turn their heads. They saw the Speaker of Naidax, leaning on her cane, making her way down into the pit, a look of wonder on her face. She stopped in front of Dular An, looking him in his eyes, and then carefully leaned down to where the tear had fallen, and picked something up. Straightening up, she looked at it, and then said, "Herald of the Voices... do you know what I-"

"Yes," he said gently. "I know what you are thinking. And you are not wrong. The death of Intilinam was saddening, but it was needed, else the Voices could not be brought closer to us."

"I knew it." She whirled around, fury on her face. "Do you hear? Intilinam died because of us! We have allowed our people to turn their backs on the Voices who have shielded us! For a hundred years, Naidax has called upon you all to repent, to disallow the naive from daring to live in the World Outside, and you ignored us! And in their anger the Voices turned their rage upon the lost Beacon! You!"

The other Speakers looked on her with shock. They had seen their sister in many moods, but none like this; snarling, teeth nearly bared, possibly about to foam at the mouth.

"Honored Speaker," the Ezhkuyith managed, "we cannot be sure-"

"Cannot be sure?" she yelled. "You think so? Look on this, traitor!"

She held her hand above her head, palm up. In it, a tiny blue crystal glowed faintly.

"You want a sign? Here is your sign! This is the tear from his own eyes!" She began laughing. "For years you fought the false prophets, fools, until you forgot how to see the real one! Behold the true Herald of the Voices, and tremble!"

Her shrill laughter echoed in the chamber. The eyes of Dular An shone their terrible light. And the Speakers of the Beacons of Kennerext trembled.
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: Eruption

Post by Shyriath »

(OOC: Longer and clumsier than I really wanted, but I want to get this thing done and get to sending people to poke at the Favored. So much for aesthetics. Hopefully, though, I got the last bit to be sufficiently creepy.)


These were uncomfortable days; the Outside had always seemed wild and dangerous, but never more so than in recent years. Tales came back from distant Xalt, passed on by the ships that came from across the Great Water. A great empire in the lands to the east, conquering its neighbors; on the islands to the south and southwest, nations of intimidating technological prowess; whispers of other tunnel-dwellers, concealed in armor and led by a god-machine; people who could read minds and fly. Those dwelling in the World Inside hardly knew what to believe anymore, except that the Outside was turning from a place of newness and adventure to one of potentially deadly unknowns.

And, there again, there was also resentment. The Deep Singers remembered little of what their lives had been like before they had been taken by the Shapers, but what remained told them that they had once been taller, straighter, that they could walk unafraid in the glare of the Great Light and its sky... that they had, in fact, once been just a group among many who did the same. They had been human, among other humans. Before the time of contact with Outsiders, they had been able to look on that time with curiosity, possibly even wistfulness, if they thought about it at all; it hadn't mattered.

But now quite a number of them had seen what humans were like. Quite a few visited the ports on the coast; some made it as far as Ezhku. There were pictures of them, now, that circulated around. All of a sudden, the Deep Singers, who had been contented with what they had become, had been confronted with what they had lost to become it.

For many, aversion to involvement with the Outside had become their refuge, whether they were afraid, or ashamed, or angry. They felt comforted by those who preached that the Voices of the Earth, in giving them the World Inside, had never intended for them to leave it again. Even here, in worldly Ezhku, gateway to the Outside, people had begun to wonder whether it had been wise to open the way out. The whispers of a new prophet had passed through the crowds like a cold wind, and sent many to reexamine their faith in the Voices. Some said he had come to Ezhku itself, that he was seeing the Illuminating Council. When word leaked out of the Miracle of the Crystal Tear, the people gathered in the Beacon Hall began panicking.

It only took a few minutes for the fighting to break out.

-----

The Speaker of Naidax began the journey back to her home Beacon only an hour after the breakup of the Council meeting, with Dular An in tow. She knew for a certainty that it was no longer safe in Ezhku for either of them.

"The idiots would not listen," she muttered. She and the prophet were both in the carriage section of the railcar; its persistent clacking, though muffled in here, nonetheless underlaid everything. "They saw the tear, but they would not listen. Voices take the lot of them."

Quietly, Dular said, "Indeed they will. But not in the way you mean, Sherni Jun."

Speaker Jun stared at him. "How did-" She stopped, and shook her head. "Of course. Forgive me. I suppose even I forget..."

"Yes, yes." Dular smiled. "You have all waited so long. Even the faithful must find it hard to cope. But when the Voices are with us all, we will forget it was ever otherwise. We will know each others' minds and hearts... and we will know those of the Voices as we never have before."

There was an embarrassed silence. At last, the Speaker asked, "What... is it like?"

Dular An's face became thoughtful, almost clouded. "It is... hard to describe. I don't quite know the words. It's like... singing. If metal and crystal could sing thoughts, it would be like that. Yes." There was a long pause, and then he added, "But... they don't sing in words. Not really. I can think of them as words, but they sing thoughts. And the singing never stops, you see. It keeps going, and weaves itself into my own thoughts, like two songs merging. It was... hard to understand, at first. But I understand them better now. And they understand me."

The Speaker's eyes were wide. "What do you mean?"

"We are so small to them... so small. So different. They did not know what it meant to have bodies and thoughts like ours. We still confuse them. But now that they are with me, they are learning, and so am I. When they know enough, they will enter into others as well. They do not want to bring harm if they do not have to."

"Harm?"

"When they come to dwell in one of us, there are physical effects. Our bodies are fragile, and it is hard for them to be careful enough. That is what happened to those people in Intilinam; the Voices tried to be with them, but did not realize what it would do to them. This time they are in me only, until they can control the effects."

Speaker Jun bowed her head. "Such consideration..."

"Yes."

"Is that why you... that is, forgive me, but you seem a bit... thin. And tired."

"Yes, that's why. It is... not easy. It even hurts, sometimes. But it will be worth it."

There was another silence. Sherni Jun hesitated, and then said, "You are... you are most certainly the prophet of the Voices..."

"Yes?"

"But... you do know, don't you, what else that makes you?"

Dular looked at her curiously, then closed his eyes; the Speaker felt something in her head, like a whisper...

"...Ah. The kingship?" Dular settled back into his seat. "I had forgotten..."

The Speaker nodded. "The rightful Herald King of the Deep Singers."

"Mmm." Dular's expression was one of disinterest. "Useful. It will cause people to pay attention. But it will not be needed for long." His voice was getting quieter, less distinct. "The Voices needed prophets and kings to relay their will, but once they are with us all, such positions will mean nothing..."

Speaker Jun felt uneasy. She could see his point, but to dismiss the history of it all... "But, Herald-"

"Please, Speaker," he mumbled. "I would like to sleep now."

"Oh. Yes, of course." She paused before apologizing. Dular had already fallen asleep, and lay in his seat as if he would never wake up.

-----

As the news of the Herald spread throughout the Beacons, those of a more inquiring turn of mind were already setting out to investigate his nature.

Many Beacons throughout Kennerext had a specialty: particular types of resources, particular skills in crafting stone or metal or glass, particular forms of art. But out of all of them, there was only one that specialized in knowledge. Few knew about it, which was just as well; the inhabitants were not keen on being noticed. Nonetheless, gone were the times when they could remain completely hidden from the world, especially since the Shapers' Road had been reopened.

Some fifty years ago, Lattor had begun engaging in cautious contact with the Shining Council of Ezhku, and in exchange for a certain amount of discretion Ezhku had profited greatly by the knowledge they were given. Every Beacon had its Technologists, but only rarely were there people who could be called scientists. And now, Ezhku had need of them.

"...and now it's getting worse," Councilor Taran Fen continued. "The Watches are trying to keep order, but it's just encouraging the rioters to attack them as well. They've had the respect of the people up to now, but now they're being called heretics and Voice-deniers just for keeping people from bashing each others' heads in. It's monstrous."

The Lattorith governing council looked on gravely. The foreman shook his head sadly. "That one man could cause so much trouble..."

"But no ordinary man," countered another. "Crystal tears! This isn't just another outbreak of religious monarchy, Lember. This one's got proof on his side, or at least people will see it that way."

"True." The foreman turned back to Councilor Fen. "We sympathize for the plight of Ezhku, sir. If you ask our help, of course we will give it. But I'm afraid I'm not sure we'll be much help-"

"You'll be more than we've been getting," the Councilor replied. "The Council agrees on this. Dular An has been doing things that mortals should not be able to do. Either he really does have the Voices... or some other supernatural agency... on his side, or he's conducting an elaborate charade, or he has access to the sciences in a way far beyond most of us. At least you can help us find out which is true."

"Perhaps so..."

"Here, I have these..." Councilor Fen fumbled in the pocket of his robe. "The Speaker of Naidax picked up most of them, but she missed these three." He took out a roll of soft material, and placed it on the desk in front of the foreman. Carefully, the foreman unrolled it, revealing a trio of small blue crystals.

"These are the tears An cried," the Councilor said. The foreman picked one up and looked at it from various angles.

"Odd structure. And it's... not quite opaque, but something's obscuring-"

"Lember," said another councilor, suddenly. "Cup it in your hands."

The foreman blinked. "What? Why-" He stopped, and then cupped his hands around the crystal. Those sitting closest to him could see a faint blue glow from between his hands.

The foreman looked up. Councilor Fen noticed that his expression had taken on a hint of... anxiety, almost fear.

"My word," the foreman mumbled. "Hadi... Hadi, do you have that sample you've been carrying around?"

The biologists' councilor, Hadi Neth, nodded, and pulled out a lump from his pocket. It was rounder and rougher than the tear, less well-formed, and somewhat larger, but it shared a certain resemblance... and precisely the same blue glow. The foreman passed the tear to him as well, and Hadi looked at both samples. After a while, he said, "I'd have to run tests. But... the material appears the same. And... if you concentrate on it, there's a similar effect-"

Councilor Fen was quite lost. The foreman, seeing his bewilderment, sighed and said, "We... may have some insights, Councilor. Though I sincerely hope we are wrong."

"What do you mean? And what did he mean by concentrating on it?"

"It's psi-active," Hadi said. "It... reacts to the workings of nearby minds. You said that after this man returned from Intilinam and cried these tears, some people around him reported hearing things and others did not?"

"Yes. But... mind-reading? That's the stuff of stories."

"Not entirely, I'm afraid," the foreman said. He looked at his fellows at their desks, and made a little gesture with his hand. They glanced at each other, and then, one by one, nodded. He turned back to Councilor Fen, and added, "We... must consult in private. We will ask you back in shortly, but we must tell you that if we are correct, Dular An is not a charlatan; he has powers that are quite real, and he may genuinely believe that they come from the Voices. But the Voices, we think, are not the source."

"And... what is?"

"Something very old, and very dangerous. And very contagious." The foreman nodded. "Please leave us for a moment, sir. We must talk... and then we can try to confirm our suspicions."

Looking troubled, Councilor Fen stalked out of the conference room. Once the Lattorith councilors were alone, the foreman tapped at a small, uninteresting-looking device on his desk. "Sir... did you hear?"

"Yes." The voice, though distorted by distance and equipment, was identifiable as that of an old man; it was pleasant in tone, and the words were archaic and cultured, but roughened by countless years. "So these... tears look like the samples you managed to grow?"

"And similarly psi-active," said Hadi. "I don't know if that means we can use it the same way we've managed to use the samples, though."

"Or if it's safe to do so," the foreman said. "If this Dular An really is carrying around the endoliths inside him and they made these, then they might have left psionic properties we don't know about. We only know the general mechanism, not the specifics."

The voice from the device cleared its throat. "On balance, children, I have to say that it appears that we are, indeed, dealing with the endoliths. And they've managed to infect at least one person."

"What can we do about it? Short of having him killed?"

"It's something that will have to be considered... but even the death of their host would not stop them forever. They're still down there, in the lower crust, breeding. They'll find another way up, eventually. The psionics research, and your sample crystals... right now, they're the best avenue we have for fighting them."

"Maybe," muttered the foreman. "But we're in unknown territory here. Isn't there anything else you know, sir, that can help us?"

"No." The ancient voice was laced with sadness. "I wasn't involved. Not many of us worked with the endoliths, or with psionics." There was a pause, and then the voice added, "But... I will give you what support I can. Once I break off contact, you will not be hearing from me again for quite some time; but be prepared. I will come to you."

"...Sir?"

"I am what I am, after all." Even with no visible face, the stunned councilors could tell that the voice's owner was smiling. "Get ready, children. You're finally going to meet your maker."

Silence.

One of them said, finally, "Coming here... the last Shaper..."

The foreman shook his head. "I know. But... we have things to do. Councilor Fen needs to be told things. Have him brought back in."

The nervous Councilor was ushered back in. The foreman, speaking gravely, said, "We will tell you what we suspect, sir. There is much that we will have to leave out; it is not all easy to understand, or to stomach. But this will be enough to prepare you, at least.

"Once upon a time, as you know, there were the Shapers. They were the ones who took our ancestors, and Shaped them into what we have become. Everyone remembers that. Fewer remember that we were not their only... project. They made the fungi and mosses that our people live on, and a number of the other cave-dwelling things we are familiar with. They filled the caverns with more life than they had had before. All these things they did in unison.

"But what we in Lattor learned was that they had... factions, groups that disagreed with each other. And one group was not satisfied. They thought that the life they had made was too similar to that on the surface. As much as they had stretched their Shaping powers and the limits of their victims, this faction believed that the others had not been bold enough. And they embarked on a project designed not only to push Shaping to its uttermost bounds, but to transform everything that had come before..."

-----

The coronation of Dular An had been a spectacular event. It had not been so well-attended as it ought to have been; most Beacons had thus far refused to recognize him, even as their populations argued about him, and the Illuminating Council maintained, by a slim majority, that he would be neither Herald nor King until it had proclaimed him so. But most of Naidax had turned out to see him, as had various observers, overt and covert, from other Beacons.

They saw him don the chain mail robe, and the golden pectoral; they saw him take up the silver staff. They saw the Crown of Kidar placed on his head. There had been cheering and rejoicing in the Beacon Hall, as one might expect... and then, the Herald King had given his first command, directing everyone assembled there to the Cave of Nine Needles.

It was a holy place. The first prophet, Enxai, had first heard the Voices there. But the Needles themselves had been ruined in an earthquake years ago, shortly after the way to the Outside had been opened. It had wounded the Deep Singers, but the Naidaxith most of all, and they had blamed the out flux of people to the Outside for the displeasure of the Voices.

But that day, when Dular led them there, the Naidaxith saw him direct the engineers to take their equipment and hoist up the nine broken stalactites from the floor of the cavern where they had lain, and hold them up to the ceiling where they had once hung. And, one by one, the new king placed his hands against the breaks, and closed his eyes, and then there was a strange blurring, and when he took his hands away...

...the Needles remained, nine of equal length, spaced around the edge of the cave, just as they had once been.

There had been no cheers. The crowds had gone beyond joy, or even reverence; they had fallen to their knees in worship, and all around had been the murmuring of ten thousand voices in prayer. He spoke to them, telling them the Voices had rewarded them for their faithfulness, and then had made his way out of the cave to rest, the sound of devotion following him as he went.

The Shining Council of Naidax had offered to disband itself immediately, offering up its power to the Herald King; but, to their surprise, he had told them only to be ready to attend upon him. And so, several days later, when the request came, they gathered in the Council Chamber. Mostly, he seemed to want to ask questions, particularly about the Outside and how Naidax had reacted to it.

"An abomination, Holy One," one said. "It was an abomination for our people to dwell there, and more so what sort of people already dwelled there. We have worked tirelessly to convince our brethren to return to the World Inside and seal the Great Gate, but to no avail."

Dular nodded. "The Voices cannot yet be properly heard in the Outside, Councilors. Here, beneath the earth, their message will eventually reach all; but those Outside must be gathered in to receive it. All our people must hear them."

"Indeed, Holy One. And then the Outside can be left behind."

"No."

The Councilors looked taken aback; but some had noticed the 'yet' in their prophet's summation.

Dular continued, "The Outside is not immune to the message of the Voices, Councilors. It simply cannot be heard there at the moment. Once the Voices dwell with all of us, those who have lived there can be sent back out."

"The Voices... want our people to be Outside, Holy One?"

"Eventually," Dular replied. "The Voices must be heard everywhere, Councilor. But we are, now, the only ones. One day, we must take them to places that we cannot reach simply by staying in the World Inside. This is our holy purpose; the Voices will dwell in us, and we will take them across the world."

The faces of the Shining Council bore expressions running from uneasiness to fascination. Surely he knew what he was talking about, but it ran counter to everything the Naidaxith had expected from their prophet.

One councilor asked, "Our people... will spread that far?"

"Indeed. We will grow; we will become. But it will not be us only. The other peoples of this world, too, will come to hear the Voices. They will become as we are, and rejoice." Dular seemed to shiver, just for a moment, but then straightened again. "But there will be opposition. There will be a danger that the peoples near us will see the advent of the Voices and try to stop it. We must learn about them, and find ways to weaken them. Have you maintained spies in the Outside?"

"...Yes, Holy One," replied the foreman. "There are many in the Outside settlements; and there are several, now, in the staff of our representative to the accursed Senate."

"Excellent." Dular's voice seemed slightly strained now. "There is... some kind of nation to the south of us, is this not so?"

"Yes. By all accounts they are adept technologists."

"But their devices will not work here?"

"Some of them may not. When Outsiders bring devices much further advanced than our own to our island, they... degrade with attempted use."

Dular nodded, his gaze unfocused. "Yes. Yes, that will be ideal. We may find them useful, if they can be made to react correctly. Send instructions to the spies among the coastal settlements; we must find ways to transport people to the southern islands. We must know more. We-" His voice cut off abruptly, and he shivered again. "Ah..."

"Holy One, are you all right? ...Perhaps we should take him to his chambers..."

Dular felt the hands of concerned councilors helping him out of his seat. He murmured, "Yes. I need... a rest. Yes. Just... find out about the southerners. Find out if they are a threat. Perhaps our Outside brethren... will be more inclined to return Inside if there is a threat..."

His head lolled as aides were summoned to help take him to his bed. His body twitched as they carried him.

-----

Dular An lay in the dim light of the chambers he'd been given, trembling and twitching. The blue glow that had suffused the irises of his eyes flickered.

In his head, Voices sang.

Little one, dear little one: you are doing so well.

The people here are faithful. We sing out, and they hear us,

Even though we do not yet dwell with them.

You have spoken well for us.


Dular smiled, though his jaw was clenched; crystal tears formed in his eyes. He whispered, "Thank you. I want to serve well."

The Voices sang, You are so brave, little one, to help us so.

Soon we will be ready to dwell in others.

The ones in this place will come first;

And your efforts will have them welcome us,

And all that comes with us-


Dular's muscles clenched. He shuddered, and tried to ease himself off the bed, only to fall to his hands and knees on the floor. He began coughing, not with a dry cough but with a gurgling, unpleasant sound.

Little one?

Dular coughed again, and spat out blood. Trembling, he heaved himself onto his back and lay there, his breathing ragged.

Does it still hurt you, little one?

Dular whispered, "Like.. needles, inside. Sharp... will it stop?..."

The Voices sang, No, little one:

It is how it must go. We sorrow for you,

Who suffer so much for us.

We are changing you, and the change has its price.

But you have been brave for us,

And so:


Dular felt a warm numbness spread through him. His bones felt like masses of needles, pricking at the flesh around them, but the sensation swept over it all, and the pain faded, leaving only a faint tingling in its place. Dular continued to tremble, but he sighed a ragged sigh of relief. "T-thank you, divine ones. Thank you."

We forget how easily little ones are hurt.

As the change goes on, there will be more cause for pain;

It will not be possible to soothe it all,

But we will do what we can to ease it.

When we come to dwell in others,

We will know how to soothe them.

It will be easy for them:

Thus will we show our love.


Dular nodded wearily. "Yes..."

The song in his head crooned softly to him.

Sleep, beloved one. Rest yourself.

We will grow; we will become,

All of us together,

And mere pain will be as nothing

Before our joyous song.
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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