The Light of All That Falls, page 37
He peered out over the edge of the building as he spoke, eyes fixed on the bridge below. “That doesn’t sound so bad, right? Something you could just ignore?” When Davian nodded slightly, he grunted. “The belittling was in private at first, but it wasn’t long before it became public. Often. It became a… rite of passage. Something people did to feel and look like they belonged. Many of us privately still believed in the old ways but in our silence, we were becoming fewer. Socially outcast, sneered at, told that we believed against proof and obvious moral right. So I started to speak out against the Venerate and what they were telling us to believe.” He spread his hands. “And here I am.”
“So they sent you here for having a difference of opinion, after explicitly saying that it was allowed?” asked Davian disbelievingly.
Raeleth gave a cheerless chuckle. “I was told that I should not lose my life because I disagreed, but that my beliefs—and my desire to voice them—were… socially destructive. That it was fine for me to have them, but detrimental for everyone if I tried to convince others of them. They said that it was contrary to objective truth, and therefore misleading. So I was given the opportunity to think the right way, or be sent here.” He smiled wryly. “I still remember when they told me, completely unironically, that they were doing it to display the truth of El to people. To show me that if I desired His plan to be fulfilled, then I would have to accept that this was part of it.”
He fell silent, and Davian didn’t say anything for a while, turning his words over.
“So you did?” he asked. “Accept it, I mean.”
Raeleth gave a soft chuckle. “Not straight away, no. Not truly until I met you, in fact. Until a week ago, I had been wondering what I had done to deserve being sent here. What mistake I had made to be punished this way by El.” Raeleth gave him a lopsided smile. “Which you reminded me are ridiculous questions to ask.”
Davian frowned. “How so?”
Raeleth shrugged slightly. “Because that’s not how it works. Faithful people suffer and evil people prosper all the time, Davian—you must know that is true. Besides, if our actions are driven only by reward or punishment—eternal or otherwise—then they are motivated by greed and selfishness, not faith or love. That is where so many people go wrong, even those who say they believe in El. They obey because they think it will make their lives better, rather than themselves. And that is very much the wrong reason.”
Davian considered for a while as he gazed down onto the bridge. The light of the Breach rose all around it, casting the al’goriat walking its surface in an unsettling, dirty yellow.
“So you know what the Venerate believe,” he said eventually. “But you seem… you seem certain that they’re wrong.”
Raeleth shot Davian a vaguely surprised glance. “Are you not?”
Davian grimaced. “I don’t agree with what they’ve done, of course. Of course. But so much of what they say makes sense. They’re not wrong when they say that our side has acted just as badly as theirs.” The words sickened him, but saying them out loud helped him accept an important truth.
He had doubted, this past year. Had wondered.
Raeleth paused, eyes still fixed below, rubbing his chin as he thought.
“What you just said—like so many of their arguments—is a distraction.”
Davian felt his brow furrow. “How so?”
“Because it is like… like listening to a piece of music and judging the composer by how skillfully the musician is playing it. The question that needs answering isn’t ever ‘who acts better.’ It is easy to seize upon the worst of groups—but every group is a collection of individuals, and every individual is flawed. Some are contrary, some are outright liars when they say that they believe in something. So every action has to be assessed against what someone claims they believe, not simply seen as a result of it.” He shrugged. “Does that make sense? You should never judge the sides of an argument simply by who is doing the arguing.”
Davian nodded slowly. “So what is the question that needs answering, then?”
“The one that got me sent here? The one which the Venerate don’t want asked?” Raeleth leaned forward. “Simply put—do you believe that mankind should have no authority higher than itself?”
“Surely… surely that’s not what the Venerate are suggesting.”
“It is—and they would tell you the same. It is exactly what their version of El is offering. A world where all possibilities are promised is, by necessity, a world in which God cannot take part. Cannot choose to affect the world in any way. If He exerts His will even a fraction, He is by definition changing how things could have been. He is removing possible outcomes.” Raeleth held Davian’s gaze, calm certainty in his eyes. “They are trying to convince everyone that our creator wished to create a world in which He could not take part. Could not help, guide, or save. In which He was functionally irrelevant.”
Davian was quiet for a long few moments. He’d never thought of it in those terms, but… Raeleth was right. That was the world the Venerate wanted.
“So their El really is nothing like the one I was taught about as a child,” Davian said eventually. Somehow he had always pictured the god the Venerate spoke about as being the same as the one he had grown up with, but simply… trapped. His role in the stories reversed with Shammaeloth’s.
“If we are talking about the same one? Then yes, he is very different,” said Raeleth quietly. “The El I believe in is not just the creator of this world, but inextricably tied to it—if He were to withdraw from it, it would cease to be as we know it. It would become a place where all the things we value, all things that have beauty and life and meaning, are simply not possible. His absence wouldn’t mean a lack of authority—it would mean complete and utter desolation.”
Davian rubbed his forehead. That was what the Old Religion still taught. “And he doesn’t just reveal himself, clear up the confusion, because…?”
Raeleth shrugged. “Because we’re meant to realize that this is important, and figure it out for ourselves. ‘No decision without doubt,’” he added, clearly quoting something. “El could convince the world in a heartbeat—but if He did, it would no longer be our choice to follow Him. Instead, He enables us to choose Him.”
Davian sniffed. “And how did the Venerate respond to you saying all of this?”
“Well—I’m here,” said Raeleth with a rueful smile. He shrugged. “They defended their position. They said that those were lies created by Shammaeloth, and that El created the world for us to live free, to make our own decisions—that giving us our independence would, in fact, be his greatest act of love. That we were meant to make our own mistakes, hopefully recognize and potentially right them—and yes, potentially fail, too. But that it would be our path, either way. Our own choices that led to whatever outcome came.” Raeleth shook his head. “But it never sounded right to me. What kind of god would create us and then leave us with no guiding hand, no plan, to the mercies of chance alone? Is a lack of discipline caring? Is absence somehow love? Should a father take his newborn and cast it out into the wild, helpless and alone, all because he does not want to unduly influence its life?” Raeleth’s eyes were hard. “So no—I do not believe the Venerate. The very idea of their El sickens me to my stomach. And even if what they say is somehow true, I would never follow a god that would abandon us to ourselves.”
Raeleth fell silent, then gave a rueful shake of his head. “Sorry. I know I can go on, when it comes to this—and it’s a lot to think on—but this place… you never know how long you have.” His fingers brushed absently at his chest, where Davian knew the lingering Dark still lay. “That realization hit me hard, this past week. I do not know what you believe, Davian, but the thought of someone else being taken in by their arguments, when I could have done something about it with the time I have left, is something I cannot let pass anymore.”
Davian nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. Raeleth had spoken passionately, but… logically, too. That helped. It hadn’t completely eliminated his doubts—he suspected that he needed to think long and hard on what had just been said—but it was enough to ease his mind for now.
He was about to say more, when he realized that there was movement on the far side of the Breach.
He stiffened, gripping Raeleth silently by the arm and indicating the motion. Isstharis was slithering toward them along the bridge, trailed by three al’goriat, the latter all carrying barrels as easily as if they had been empty.
The dar’gaithin and her unsettling retinue made their way across the shadowed bridge, the al’goriat not paying them any attention as they passed by. Once on the nearer side of the Breach, Isstharis continued to move purposefully northward, quickly vanishing among the maze of red-tinted buildings.
Davian exchanged a glance with Raeleth, and the two men crept as fast as they dared in the same direction.
Davian and Raeleth half sneaked, half jogged after Isstharis, keeping low behind broken walls and piles of rubble to avoid being spotted by an errant glance.
They had already discussed at some length how best to follow the dar’gaithin. The twisting, circuitous layout of Zvaelar made simple shadowing almost impossible, but by keeping to the higher ways, they were able to catch occasional glimpses of Isstharis and her followers. Enough to determine their quarry’s general direction, and to make sure they didn’t get too close or too far behind.
It was ten minutes into their pursuit that they rounded a corner and came face-to-face with the al’goriat.
Davian skidded to a stop, Raeleth crashing hard into his back. Davian barely noticed, his entire attention focused on the creature ahead. It was facing them, blocking the path, not twenty feet from where they stood.
It cocked its head to the side, needle-like teeth glistening red in a lipless mouth. The smooth skin where its eyes should have been seemed to examine them.
Davian heard Raeleth’s intake of breath from behind him. There was nowhere to go, no way they could run from this.
From desperate, horrified instinct, he reached for kan.
The al’goriat’s mouth somehow widened, and it took a lumbering step toward them. More curious than aggressive. They seemed to operate on a predatory instinct, though; this felt as if the thing was playing with them. Waiting for them to react.
There was a moment when his effort to reach kan was just like every other time; he stretched for the dark energy, strained and scrabbled at the power that was right there if he could just reach a little further.
And then he was pushing through it.
He froze, almost losing his grip again in shock before focusing. He’d managed to grasp kan but the connection was… tenuous. Barely there. He couldn’t do much, and he couldn’t do it for long.
But now that Davian was finally holding kan, he realized that the same power was emanating from the Bane.
He had only a heartbeat to process what he was seeing. Thousands of dark threads waving like living things, like a cloud of snakes, from the creature’s body. They wormed their way outward and everywhere for what appeared to be hundreds of feet, touching buildings, ground, rubble.
Davian and Raeleth.
Davian fumbled with the little kan he was able to use and threw up a hardened shield, cutting off the tendrils attached to himself and Raeleth. It was thin, weak. Barely anything. But it was the best he could do.
The al’goriat stopped.
A soft gargling sound erupted from its throat—the first time Davian had heard one of the creatures make such a noise. Davian gripped Raeleth by the shoulder and gradually, cautiously pulled him back.
The tendrils waved around them, flapped at his shield and slid off. The al’goriat continued to make the strange noise, but hadn’t moved. It seemed to be still staring at the spot where Davian and Raeleth had been when it had first spotted them.
Davian carefully took two steps to the side, pulling Raeleth with him.
The al’goriat didn’t track the motion.
Sight. That was what those kan threads were for. That had to be it.
The al’goriat abruptly vanished, then reappeared immediately in the space where Davian and Raeleth had been standing a few seconds earlier. With its unnaturally long legs, it was perhaps one or two strides away from being able to touch them.
Its head waved around wildly, as if in confusion. It vanished again.
This time, it didn’t reappear.
Davian exhaled, every limb trembling; beside him he could see Raeleth still frozen to the spot, clearly unwilling to move for fear that the creature was still nearby.
“What… what just happened?” the other man whispered, voice shaking.
Davian swallowed. “We need to catch up to Isstharis. I’ll explain later,” he murmured. “For now, I think we’re safe.”
“Safe?” repeated Raeleth, the word coming out close to a hiss. He evidently heard the near panic in his own voice because he held up a hand apologetically, nodding, though Davian could see that he was still shaken. “You’re right. Go.”
They hurried forward, Davian suddenly feeling more confident than he had since he had arrived. He’d done it. He was using kan again. He still doubted that he could do much more than he was currently—in fact, he didn’t think that he’d be able to maintain even this flimsy shield for long; the focus needed was far more than it should have been. The only reason he forced himself to maintain it now was that he feared that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to get it back again.
But it was progress. He would be able to fill his Reserve once more. He would be able to keep healing Raeleth, maybe even try eliminating the Dark in him entirely if he could find an Essence source big enough.
It was two minutes before Raeleth grabbed Davian’s arm, pointing silently to the north. Davian followed the gesture, spotting the outline of an al’goriat hauling a barrel through the moonlight just before it disappeared over a rise.
They hurried in that direction, approaching the spot where the al’goriat had been. Davian frowned. The buildings immediately in front of them were little more than piles of rubble; clearly the destruction had hit hard here, even harder than in the other parts of the city. But beyond them… beyond them he couldn’t see anything. No other buildings, no raised pathways or tunnels. Just open air.
A cliff.
He crept forward alongside Raeleth, doing his best not to send loose stones skittering. Raeleth climbed carefully around one of the piles of rubble and then lay on his stomach, motioning for Davian to do the same. The two of them wormed forward until their heads peeked over the edge of the drop.
Davian swallowed as the dingy, red-tinged scene below came into view.
A deep, circular dip in the ground stretched away before them. Perhaps a mile wide, it had bowl-like sides that curved upward, smooth and looking virtually unclimbable except for three separate points Davian could see, each of which was guarded by two dar’gaithin. Structures architecturally similar to the ones up top dotted its base, which appeared relatively flat. The indentation had to have been made before the city’s destruction, rather than being due to it, then.
It was the center, though, that drew Davian’s eye. A massive expanse of flat ground—a few hundred feet in diameter, at least—was bare of buildings or even rubble except for a few small structures in the middle, which were in turn clustered tightly around a square tower. The edifice was tall, almost the same height as the crater’s edge. It glimmered in the dull light, glinted and shone.
Metal. The entire thing was made of metal.
He swallowed, hearing an almost desirous sigh from Raeleth as the other man spotted the same thing. After a moment he tore his eyes from the sight, gaze flicking away and down.
Surrounding the area containing the tower and its ancillary structures—flooding the open, otherwise cleared space—at least a hundred al’goriat roamed.
Raeleth tentatively shifted closer to Davian. “So. This is where they take it,” he said softly, motioning to the west. Davian twisted slightly, spotting Isstharis and her al’goriat as they carted the barrels of metal down one of the pathways. “Now what?”
Davian swallowed. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. Getting here was as far ahead as he’d thought.
“That’s a forge,” said Raeleth suddenly, gesturing to one of the other buildings in the center, off to the right of the tower. Thin black smoke rose from a chimney jutting from its roof. “They must melt it all down. El alone knows why, though.”
They observed for a while, Davian’s muscles beginning to stiffen from the awkwardly held position. He was just about to consider getting a better view when suddenly a flurry of activity from one of the pathways into the crater drew his eye.
Three dar’gaithin were descending, a single man shepherded among them, shoved forcefully every few steps despite not giving any apparent sign of resistance. Davian didn’t recognize him, but he walked calmly, head forward, looking neither to the right nor the left as other dar’gaithin nearby stopped what they were doing and stared at him.
The dar’gaithin escorted him calmly along the basin floor and out into the sea of roaming al’goriat; the tall, eyeless creatures turned as soon as the prisoner stepped out onto the cleared space, some of them blinking in an instant from the far side of the glimmering tower to where the intrusion was occurring.
The man ignored the creatures, walking on unfazed between the dar’gaithin, who were apparently there to prevent him from being eaten. They crossed the wide-open space within thirty seconds, vanishing into the metal tower.
Davian turned to Raeleth, and his heart skipped a beat. Raeleth had gone white, his hands trembling, looking unable to tear his eyes from the scene. When Davian placed a gentle hand on Raeleth’s shoulder, the other man flinched.
