Their steps rang hollow in the grey-brown tunnel as they left Audec-Hal proper, making their way into the cliffs between the legs.
It had been three years since they buried Aernah, the last Aegis. Back when Selweh was Second Sentinel. Blurred Fists had been only been a Shield for two years.
They passed the hall of Aegis, four coffins side by side. The name of each to carry the mantle was inscribed on the side of their coffin, testament to their memory and their service.
Wonlar lingered for a moment on aria’s tomb, third in the row, and laid two freshly-bloomed crocuses on the coffin, one for Selweh and one for himself. The group moved to the far end of the room, leaving him alone with the coffin. The inscription showed her first Shield name, Valence, from when she used her Spark-touched ability, as well as her time as the fourth Aegis, after their marriage and their love were torn apart by his power.
Wonlar knelt, hands folded over the stone hands carved in her likeness.
Selweh is still safe. It’ll be over soon. I’m sorry for what I did, for not making amends before it was too late. I love you and I miss you.
After a minute of silence, he stood and turned from her coffin. For a moment, the shadows play a trick on him and he thought he saw a fifth coffin in the hall, Selweh’s name beside the others.
The light moved and it was gone.
The Shields passed three more rooms to reach the first open space just beyond Qojimata’s coffin, laid in six years ago. They’d lost eighteen Shields in total over the fifty years. In terms of a war, it wasn’t many, compared to the thousands of citizens who had perished under the tyrant’s reign but every one of them was a dear friend.
Wonlar break the silence. “Here.” Sabreslate stepped up in her woven-stone raiment, and raised her hands to the cavern wall. Turquoise lines of empathy extended from her hands and burrowed their way into the wall. The stone shifted out of the way, forming a smooth room just tall enough for Sapphire to pass her head underneath. Sabreslate left an elevated platform, and Sapphire lifted the coffin up onto the corner. Aegis lifted up his side, and the two strongest Shields slid the coffin into place.
Sabreslate knelt next to the coffin, and traced Wenlizerachi’s name by hand, then his Shield-name, Blurred Fists. She stood, and turned to face the other four in the circle.
The service was his duty, his burden. He’d spoken sixteen of them, taking over after the two done by the original Aegis.
“We gather today in the hall of Broken Shields to remember our comrade Blurred Fists.”
The voices of the other Shields’ echoed in the cavern and in his mind. “Blurred Fists.” [
Blurred Fists
.]
Wonlar put a hand on the coffin. “Born Wenlizerachi, of the Pronai, he gave five years of service to Audec-Hal, and would have given more had he been able. His speed saved many lives, including my own, and those of his fellow Shields. He will not be forgotten.”
“He will not be forgotten.” [
He will not be forgotten
.]
Wonlar set a morning lily on the coffin, just bloomed that day, that would fold back up again by night. The Pronai had chosen it as their flower to remind them of the beauty of a brief life.
“His shield is broken now, his service at an end. And so we commit his body to the stone beside the great city of Audec-Hal, that he might return again to race the everlasting Race.”
Wonlar continued. “Rest now, brother. You will not be forgotten.”
The Shields echoed him again. “You will not be forgotten.” [
You will not be forgotten
.]
Sapphire stood over the coffin, drew two fingers to her lips, and then rested them on the carving of Wenlizerachi’s face. She stepped back, and Aegis approached, repeating the gesture. Sabreslate went third. Ghost Hands bowed her head beside the coffin, and then stepped back. Wonlar was last as he was first, letting the tears come freely in this private moment. He touched fingers to his lips, and then rested those fingers on his friend’s coffin. Wenlizerachi was the fourth member of the family he’d buried here. There were none from the house of chi left to take up the name.
Wonlar -spoke in a whisper too soft for any to hear but the ghosts which inhabit the hall. “I’m sorry.”
The Shields stood silent in the chamber for a half-hour, each saying their personal goodbyes. Their respects paid, the Shields departed, each knowing that the next mission might be the last for one or more of them.
Ghost Hands lingered behind, asking to catch up with Sabreslate so they could seal the hall once she was done. First Sentinel walked around a corner in the hall, leaving his old friend to her thoughts.
Thirty Years ago
We’d heard that Nevri was moving several caravans of people for “questioning,” but that was all. Not much to go on, but Valence was itching for something to do.
It was the first three of us: First Sentinel, myself, and Valence. We traveled along the rooftops, floating and swinging and doing our best to avoid notice. Most people don’t look up, save the tyrants’ guards.
The patrol was ten strong, mostly Ikanollo, with one Freithin, two Pronai, and a Qava. A well-rounded group, with versatility. We kept our distance, rather than moving to engage. First Sentinel and Valence bantered, trading boasts, joking barbs, and loving words as they steeled themselves for the coming fight.
In the field, they had the blessing and the terror of risking their lives alongside their spouses. I had to say farewell every morning or night, watch as Sarii’s eyebrows narrowed. I had to pull myself out of her tight embrace, the worry pouring forth from her mind like a waterfall.
The warlocks stopped at a crosswalk, and First Sentinel held up a hand to stop us. I hovered in place, listening to the warlock’s thoughts as best I could.
Qava philosophy speaks of each person’s mind as a house, filled with rooms. Each room was decorated and furnished with a person’s memories, their emotions, and their perspectives. When I saw into the minds of one of Yema’s warlocks, I felt a cold lifeless shack with Yema’s thoughts echoed. Little desires and instincts skittered in the corners, afraid to show themselves.
I reached out and spoke in the minds of my companions.
[Yema is giving new orders. They’re supposed to break up a demonstration on east Vein and Wexlay.]
First Sentinel responded in a voice just loud enough to carry to the three of us. “Then we head east once they round the corner.”
That took us across the vein, a divide wide enough that Valence had to shift to become as wind as First Sentinel swung almost all the way to the street, swooping close enough to people to take off a few caps, protecting heads from the winter’s chill. We raced over the rooftops to cut off the warlock patrol before they could reach Wexlay.
First Sentinel called a halt at the lip of the roof of a apartment building. They had a clear view of the intersection of East Vein and Wexlay. I felt the minds and bodies of the demonstrators, a tightly-packed mass of frustration and fear. Citizens with enough drive and will to overcome City Mother’s influence were very rare, and seemed to be getting rarer every year.
And halfway down the block, the Warlock Guard. First Sentinel called my name with his mind, and I relayed his message.
[Go on three, keep the protestors safe.]
First Sentinel counted with fingers as he thought the numbers.
One. Valence crouched, and switched to mimicking the strong greystone bricks of the lip of the roof.
Two. First Sentinel leveled the grapple gun at the corner of the roof across the street.
Three. I quieted my mind and made ready.
“Go!” First Sentinel fired his grappling gun and dove off the roof. Valence stepped off the roof and let her weight carry her down. I soared above and threw a wave of force at the Warlock Guard. They scattered, some knocked back and over, others dodging out of the way. The guards lifted wands and staves, vessels for channeling the magical power which Yema had invested in each of them.
Valence’s landing cracked the cobblestones of the road. She rose immediately and charged the guards. First Sentinel swung down onto a windowsill and started throwing knives.
Several guards with long blades moved to surround Valence. I picked one of them off the ground and held him in the air out of reach. He flailed with the knife, only succeeding in spinning himself head-over-heel in place.
Steel rained down on the guards, who stuck to cover and returned fire with magical blasts in gold and green and red. Several blasts rose up towards me, and I floated out of their way. But not fast enough. A red orb seared my right knee, and I lost my concentration, tumbling towards the ground.
My fall was interrupted when First Sentinel wrapped his arms around me. Rather than landing in the middle of the melee, we crashed into the steps of the apartment building on the near side of the street.
[are you alright?],
he asked hurriedly in his mind, and I raised a hand to satisfy him. I didn’t know at the time that two of my ribs were broken, just that the pain was overwhelming.
[help her, I’ll be fine.]
First Sentinel turned towards Valence, who was being mobbed by warlocks. He drew another pair of daggers. For her, he’d tear down the tower of the City Mother herself.
I watched them from the stoop, struggling to stay conscious and using what strength I had to keep warlocks away from me. With the strength and toughness of greystone, Valence could stalemate four warlocks, maybe five. But not eight or nine, even with First Sentinel distracting several with swipes of his knives.
The fight went on like that for nearly a minute, with Valence taking a beating, only able to drop two of the warlocks with her heavy strokes. First Sentinel fought a losing battle, crowded by five of the guards. I pushed a guard at a time away, all the while feeling as if my middle was about to collapse.
My senses faded to nothing more than the fight before me, the flashes of anger from the guards as they approached and the desperate thoughts of my friends too far away to help. There were no thoughts from civilians watching from the windows, no birds overhead. Just the battle, and even that began to grow dim.
The record of what happened next was patched together from my memory and what little First Sentinel would tell.
A warlock’s staff-swing connected with the back of First Sentinel’s head, dropping him to a knee. The others had driven Valence to the ground, blasts of magic crashing in waves over her back in sickly hues.
The warlock above First Sentinel raised a curved dagger, and I felt First Sentinel’s mind snap. He reached out, and the warlocks stopped. Not just the one above him, all of them. Their minds went silent, no longer even filled with the echoes of their master. The skittering thoughts were gone, too. Nothing was left to them, nothing was left of them. They were as the dead, but still living.
I don’t read the threads, but Valence told me that in that instant, the burgundy strands of control that tied the warlocks to Yema as puppets were shredded. They were cut off from their master, no longer slaves but still not free, each of their hearts locked away in Yema’s vault.
But their other threads had been shorn, too, the dull remnants of their former lives, all gone. They were left with nothing, no connections, no emotions tying them to anything or anyone. The houses of their mind were empty, no lights, no furniture, nothing.
First Sentinel and Valence pulled me up after the warlocks’ strings had been cut, and carried me to safety.
* * *
We did not see Aria for a week after the fight with the warlocks. Wonlar and I went to her apartment over a dozen times, but she would not open the door. I felt her mind through the doorway, reached out to touch it.
After that fight, it was as if a tornado had run through the house of Aria’s mind, damaging memories and staining emotions.
Aria’s voice carried through the door. “Go away, both of you. I need to be by myself.” I sorted through the pieces in her mind, looked at the breaks at the edge of her memories, and felt the signature of First Sentinel’s power. She had been in the middle of the crowd of warlocks when First Sentinel had lashed out.
I heard Wonlar’s voice, muted but tender.
“Please, love, let us in. We’re worried about you. Whatever’s happened, we’re here for you.”
Nothing. Aria appeared above me in her mindscape, arms crossed.
[Get out of my head.]
I withdrew my presence, returned my attention to my surroundings. Wonlar was still pounding on her door, tears at the corner of his eyes. I reached out and touched him on the shoulder, spoke in his mind.
[we need to go. She doesn’t want us here.]
“I don’t care. She needs us, we can make it better, I can repair the threads, and you can fix her memories.”
[no. It is not our place to do those things without her leave.]
I pulled Wonlar away from the door, and he struggled against my power.
“Aria, please.” His voice was softer, almost resigned.
“Go away. Please. Leave me be.”
[Wonlar,]
I said again in his mind.
He was kneeling then, hands stretched out to the door. “I’m sorry, love. I was trying to protect you.”
[She knows that, First Sentinel. Of course she knows.]
His voice grew loud in my mind.
[Then why won’t she let us in?]
[She has suffered a great wound. When she wants help, she will reach out. Have faith.]
[City Mother, please look after your daughter…]
Wonlar began to pray as he stood, and I led him away from Aria’s apartment.
* * *
We returned home, and First Sentinel locked himself up in his laboratory. I felt the rooms of his mind fallen to shambles, wracked by grief and guilt as he tried to lose himself in work.
I will go to ask Aegis for counsel, for I am at a loss with them. May the City Mother guide Aria, Wonlar, and all of us. I pray that this is not the end of the Shields, torn apart from the inside by one grand misfortune. I fear that if Wonlar does not forgive himself, he will carry this guilt diligently to his grave.