Chapter 133 – Line in the Sand
Lorata’s expression manages to foul even further as Blair limps her way up to the front, leaning heavily on Aquenno.
Widengra grunts in clear displeasure. “You’re alive.”
“Despite your best efforts.” Blair smiles thinly.
“So this is where you crawled off to,” Lorata says. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve been a traitor from the start, haven’t you?”
Yua Tin ghosts a hand over her shoulder. “Now, now. You know that’s not fair: she’s been with us through storm and spring.”
“Which makes the betrayal all the worse.” Lorata brushes Yua Tin’s hand aside, still keeping her fiery gaze on Blair. “You know the stakes of what we do. What the remnants are capable of.”
Blair nods slowly. “I do. And my dedication to the protection of the inhabitants of this world has not waivered.”
Widengra scoffs out a laugh. “Funny way of showing it.”
“To all inhabitants,” she clarifies. “What was done to Fyreneth’s people wasn’t right. What we’re doing to the Travelers today isn’t right. Our focus shouldn’t be on them, but the remnants. While it’s true forgotten relics have been stirring since their arrival, Travelers are no more likely to succumb to one than any other Lusian. A Traveler who hasn’t yet encountered a relic should be treated no differently from our own people.”
Lorata shakes her head. “Baseless claims. What evidence do you have to support any of this?”
“Aaaactually,” Shirasil says, pushing up a pair of shades on his nose that I’m certain hadn’t been there just a moment before, “I’ve been collecting data on this myself. By now, of course, we know this Kanin fellow is the one responsible for the event that caused the Travelers to resurrect on our world. Given his remnant was involved in some way, it makes sense for these new souls to have likewise been drawn to dormant remnants and were reborn nearby.”
Lorata gives him a level look. “Your point?”
“My point,” he says, looking all too pleased with the conversation, “is that they happened to spawn near remnants, but after their rebirth they have been no more likely to stumble upon one than any other Lusian. In fact, rather than locking them in cages, they have the potential to be a valuable asset.” He tips his head at me. “Lord Fyre has already figured that out, hasn’t she?”
I’m caught off guard at being drawn back into the conversation. “People are not assets.”
“And yet, you’ve used them to your advantage, haven’t you?” Shirasil strolls up to the barrier, craning his head back as he taps at the surface, quickly drawing his hand away as if burned.
He still has access to the dome; he should be able to step right through. Briefly, I wonder if I should reject his access just to keep up the ruse. If they find out we’ve been speaking, they might label him a traitor, too.
“Quite the expansive area to protect,” Shirasil says. “And yet, you managed to repel anyone who tried to get inside. Tell me, how did you know which of us were gods and champions?”
I suddenly understand what he’s getting at. “We Checked them.”
Shirasil nods to this. “An ability that should only be accessible to the gods, despite you all managing to slip through a crack in the system.” He turns to the rest of the pantheon, raising his voice. “Haven’t we been looking for a way to extend the boons of the System to our champions all this time? Wouldn’t our jobs be made incredibly easier if they all had the ability to Check things and identify remnants from a distance, too?” He laughs sardonically. “The solution fell into our laps, and instead of capitalizing on it, we threw it in cages.”
Lorata frowns. “If you’re suggesting we should be taking these Travelers—these strangers—as champions, that’s exceptionally rash.”
Shirasil cackles. “Me, rash? Never!”
Lorata sighs, and despite the glowing light, I almost think I can see her roll her eyes.
“Making them champions would be rash,” Yua Tin says, tipping their head as they regard us. “But allies may not be. Shirasil and Blair are right; we could be working with these individuals to find remnants. It would effectively double the number of agents we have working on our behalf.”
Lorata is quiet. Is she actually considering this? With gods on my side, can we really solve this by diplomacy? If the mission I sent Kanin and Sandro on becomes obsolete, that would be a better outcome than I ever could have hoped for.
Widengra snarls in the span of stretching silence. “We can’t really be considering trusting outsiders, can we? They don’t know anything about our world. What makes you think any would even want to work for us?”
“Outsiders can surprise you,” Mirzayael speaks up, casting a sidelong glance toward me. “And I, for one, have no intention of working for any of you.”
I tense. “Mir,” I think in warning. We can’t have negotiations collapse now, not when we’re so close.
She squeezes my hand once in reassurance. “And I despise the idea of working with any of you. Not after all the harm you’ve caused.”
Widengra grins, tightening the grip on his axe.
“But,” Mirzayael continues, “I also will not stop anyone who chooses to. Their decisions are their own. If this spares Travelers the same fate Fyrethians were subjected to, then I believe it is an option worth considering.”
Lorata gives Mirzayael a considering look. “What was done to your people was never my initial intention.”
Mirzayael’s lip curls. “Intention means nothing in the face of consequences.”
To my surprise, Lorata actually nods along to this. “I am of the same belief. The ends justify the means, ultimately. And above all, it is my desire to protect this planet.” She looks at Blair. “And all its inhabitants. And we will not be safe until every remnant has been secured.”
I don’t share her belief that the remnants pose such an existential threat—perhaps she has only convinced herself of this to justify her continued rule—but it’s a foothold I can use.
“Then the Travelers should be released,” I say. “No more hunting them. And if we can find some common ground, I am even willing to assist you in searching for more remnants.”
Lorata frowns at this. “Yet, you still wield one.”
We’re back to this again. “Unless you know a way to break our pact, I’m afraid there’s no helping that. You’ll have to trust my intentions are true.”
“I do,” Lorata says, and hope flairs within me. “But as we’ve just established, intention means nothing in the face of consequences.”
She glances back toward Widengra, and he steps forward with a grin, hefting his axe.
“Once the Core is secured, I will decide what to do with the rest of you. Be glad I’m willing to concede even this much.” Lorata flicks a hand toward Widengra.
I raise a hand in protest. “Wait—”
Blair steps forward at the same moment. As the massive orc god raises his axe, light shimmers from Blair’s fingers, spreading out to meld with the dome’s magic. The axe clashes with the barrier in an explosion of light. Wind gusts into us, and Mirzayael wraps a hand around my back, grounding me as the wind snags my wings. I shield my eyes, yet outside the dome I can see similar reactions among the gods. Some are bracing, while others have formed barriers of their own. Lightning sparks off the point where the axe meets our shield, stabbing back toward the pantheon. For all the bluster occurring on our side, the situation for the gods is quickly becoming dire. Many pull their much-more-mortal champions away, shouts of objection barely making it through the crackle of magic.
The light cuts out, and silence rings in my ears. When I look up, I find Yua Tin is holding Widengra’s wrist, staving off his axe from crashing into the shield. It’s such a bizarre sight, a frail frame like Yua Tin’s holding back an orc twice their size with only one hand.
Widengra roars, wrenching their arm from Yua Tin’s grasp. “Traitor! Of course you’d take your champion’s side. You want to die with her?”
He lifts his weapon once more, and Zetaru steps in front of her god, holding a defensive hand in front of Yua Tin.
“Enough,” Lorata snaps, a pulse of light emitting with her words. “Widengra, stand down. I will not have us lose any more champions or gods.”
The orc grinds his teeth, glaring over Zetaru’s shoulder at an entirely unfazed Yua Tin. Then he huffs, lowering his axe, and steps back. Zetaru and Yua Tin remain in front of the barrier, their backs to us, standing apart from the rest of the pantheon.
“Is this your doing, then?” Lorata asks Yua Tin.
Before the god can answer, however, Blair steps forward. “My choices are my own. Yua Tin had nothing to do with this. I am prepared to stand here by myself if necessary.” She tips her head skyward. “This ward was already strong. With my help, I believe I can extend its life for a long, long time.”
“But not indefinitely,” Lorata says. “You are only delaying the inevitable.”
“Wait,” I try again, stepping forward. Mirzayael lets go of my hand, but her presence remains firm at my back. “I’d like to make an offer.”
Lorata gives me a bored look. “We’ve already heard your offer, and my answer remains the same.”
“An amendment,” I say, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. “Please just hear me out.”
Lorata doesn’t say anything. Yua Tin tips their head back toward me. “Well?”
Oh. It seems Lorata not objecting is as close as I’ll get to her giving me permission to continue.
“I am willing to hand over the Dungeon Core and myself if you leave the rest of this city and all the Travelers within it alone.”
“What?” Mirzayael snaps. “Fyre, what is this nonsense?”
“It’s a bluff,” I tell her mentally. “Pretend to be upset with me.”
“I am not pretending.”
I have to be careful here. According to Blair, Lorata can tell if she is being lied to. So far I haven’t: I really would be willing to hand over the Core and myself to save the rest of the city. But I don’t believe it must come to that.
Lorata raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I agree. “All I ask for is a month. The Dungeon Core is deeply embedded in the city’s spell network. It would take time to extract it and set up the city to operate independently from the Core. Removing it today would cause the city’s entire infrastructure to collapse; no plumbing or clean water. People could die before the city recovered.”
She narrows her eyes. “And you believe it would take a month to accomplish this task?”
“Several weeks at least,” I answer honestly. “A month would provide a buffer to test the magical network in case anything wasn’t connected properly.”
Lorata quietly stares at me. If she’s activating any sort of mind-reading or truth-detecting spell on me, Echo hasn’t informed me that’s the case. Perhaps the barrier is stopping her magic—or the fact that I have psionic abilities, too. Or, worst case, she’s disabled Echo’s ability to let me know.
“This seems fair,” Yua Tin says. “All remnants will be removed from the city, which leaves nothing more for us to quarantine. Waiting a month is preferable to sustaining an onslaught for a year or more.”
“Please,” Blair adds. “All they’re asking for is mercy. If you agree to this, I will turn myself over as well.”
“Blair,” I start to say, but she shakes her head at me with a sad smile.
“Do not fret. I am at peace with my actions.”
“Wellllll,” Shirasil says, sliding over to Yua Tin’s side. “I’m convinced! We get the remnant—they get to not be killed. And I get to talk to all these Travelers!” He turns to me. “I have many questions about something called cell phones. It keeps coming up in the memories of the Travelers we’ve examined. They appear to be these small boxes that project flat illusions. But the illusions are so detailed! And everyone seems to have one. I have a couple theories about what they’re for, but—”
“Shirasil, enough,” Lorata says, but this time there is no bite in her tone.
Shirasil shrugs, turning back to her. “All I’m saying is, there’s much more to learn by working with them. It has the potential to be so interesting! And I can’t be the only one to think that.”
He lifts his eyebrows in question. An uncomfortable shuffle passes through the ranks of the gods.
Then, a small dracid champion moves to his side. After another moment, an arachnoid god steps up beside Yua Tin. More champions and gods hesitantly step forward, forming a wall before us.
It’s not most of the gods. It’s not even half of them. But it’s more than I would have hoped for.
Lorata glares at the gods who stand before her for a long moment. At her side, Widengra looks enraged. He keeps squeezing the handle of his axe, as if he’d rather have his hands around one of their throats.
I tense, waiting for Lorata to attack. The ones defending us are far outnumbered by the ones still on Lorata’s side. But Shirasil has finally, publicly, thrown his hat in with us. Would he have done that if there were any chance of him seeing repercussions?
Lorata lets out a weary sigh. “Fine. You have one month. When I return for the remnant, I will be taking it regardless of the state of your city’s spell circuits. If you resist, there will be no second chances.”
The god turns away, then abruptly vanishes.
I stare at the space of empty air. Did that really just happen? Did my bid for more time work?
One by one, the other gods also disappear. Shirasil, Widengra, eventually even Yua Tin, who turns back to give me a soft smile before they leave.
“Take care of Blair for me,” they say with a wink.
Blair huffs out a wincing laugh. “Which one of us do you think is the God of Wards?”
Then Yua Tin and Zetaru also melt away, and the scene before us is empty.
I let out a breath. It’s over. We stood our grou—
Shirasil blinks back into existence right in front of me, and I stumble back, my heart nearly jumping out of my throat.
“She said a month, but she’ll be back in two weeks,” the god says.
“Oh,” I stammer, still recovering. “Thank you.”
He nods toward the Broken Tower. “You got my message?”
“I have,” I say. Hesitating to say anything more out loud, I instead send him a message through the Contact interface.
[Fyre: I’ve sent some of my people to accompany Kanin on his trek to find your notes.]
Shirasil grins.
[L: Ah! Smart girl. I’d wondered where the other remnants had gone—I don’t sense them in the city anymore. Well, I suppose you don’t need my help, then.]
[Fyre: Actually—]
“Good luck, sister of science,” Shirasil says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.
Then Shirasil vanishes once more. I was already in the middle of replying to his last message, asking for more direct confirmation that what we’re looking for can be found in his notes, but when I attempt to send the message, it doesn’t deliver. I guess he thinks I have all the information I need; I hope he’s right.
“Well,” I sigh in the stretching silence. “That went well, I think.”