Karl Schroeder - Ventus

"I wish I could believe you."

He looked surprised—the first real emotion he'd shown in days. He squinted at her through woodsmoke. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're very, very angry, and I'm afraid you don't know it."

That made him pause. "I don't know what you mean," he said finally.

"She is dead, Armiger."

He just looked at her.

"You don't know how to grieve, do you?" she asked.

This time he grimaced, but that was all.

"I forget sometimes that you have no experience in it." She smiled sadly. "Neither did I, the first time; no one is prepared. So we usually end up with scars; I suppose mine are no worse than anyone else's. If I am to honour Megan in any way, I guess it should be by heeding her lesson. She was offended that I... fell apart... after we escaped. I thought she couldn't possibly know what I was feeling. Now I realize that she saw that I thought this, and that was what offended her. After all, she lost a husband, but she carried on.

"At the time I thought she was making light of my pain. She must be asking me to shrug it off, like I had done with the pain of my mother's death. It took me many years to learn how bad a mistake that had been. But no, she was asking for more courage than I was willing to show. She was asking me to feel it all, and keep going anyway."

"I am not one of you," Armiger said. He didn't elaborate.

"You're acting exactly like one of us," she countered.

He didn't answer.

"The sooner you start believing it the better off you'll be, Armiger. You're going to have to face the pain, and sooner rather than later would be best."

He squinted at her through woodsmoke. "Why?"

"Because if you are as powerful as you say you are, your anger could destroy my world."

"Only my human side can be angry."

"But pardon me for saying so, my general—it's your human side that makes you do what you do."

He stood up abruptly and stalked a few meters away. Encouraged, she said, "Listen to me. If you respect Megan, you should follow her example too."

"By doing what?" He sounded indifferent, as though intent on some task. Galas almost smiled.

"By letting it all in. All the pain, the sorrow, the anger. You've got to let yourself feel it. Otherwise, it's going to act through you whether you know it or not."

He murmured something; she wasn't sure, but it sounded like, "That's not what I'm afraid of having act through me."

Galas felt infinitely weary. Her own grief was raw and close enough that she had little strength to fight his. She lay down on her bedroll and gazed up at the few stars that were visible through the perpetual dusk sky.

"I'm afraid," she heard herself say. She knew she was not speaking for herself.

"Jordan Mason," said Armiger. "I need you to find me now."

Galas rolled on her side and looked past the circle of firelight. Armiger stood with his hands raised to either side, and now lines of light flickered at the ends of his fingers. These seemed to tear away and coalesce into rolling balls, like tumbleweeds. She saw several bounce across the ground, fading. A faint rustling sound came from the undergrowth around her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I am building a larger body—more sense organs, independent hands and eyes. The Winds or their slaves might fall on us at any time. We need guards—a perimeter. I am making that."

Galas lay back, shivering. What had she just been speaking to? A man? No... she was the only human being on this hillside. She might as well be talking to the stones.

She closed her eyes, determined to see and hear no more today.

"Sir?"

Hesty's voice came to Lavin from a long way away. The voice represented the distant past, a time of hope he could no longer comprehend. The present was an unending cycle of misery that would end only with death. Nothing mattered except that pain.

He had lain here under a canopy, unable to move, for days now. He knew the official story was that vertigo had laid him low, but the truth was much more simple. Lavin's heart had died, and he no longer wanted to live.

"Sir."

With difficulty he turned his head. Hesty stood over him, his face revolving in a direction opposite to everything else. Lavin retched.

"How are you feeling, sir?"

What a laughable question. Lavin wanted to close his eyes and vanish into his misery again, but to his surprise Hesty sat down cross-legged next to him and whispered, "We need you, sir."

Lavin looked at him closely for the first time. Hesty's face was lined with care, and his hair unkempt. It looked like he hadn't slept in days—not surprising in the circumstances.

"What..." Lavin was surprised at his own voice, which was hoarse and feeble. "What is happening?"

Hesty let out a great sigh. "We've been getting word from back home along the semaphore lines. Apparently the Winds are marching everywhere. They've obliterated cities, sir! The skies are full of swans and Heaven hooks, and in some places the cities' gates are closed because morphs are snatching travellers off the roads. Rivers have dried up. It's insane!

"The priests here are in a panic. The Winds... the Winds are not what they thought..." To Lavin's great surprise, Hesty shuddered.

"Sir, they're using us, then they're going to kill us. I'm sure of it. So are some of the others, but not the field commanders. The men have faith in the Winds, but... a lot more of them were secretly sympathetic to Galas than we thought. There's rumors that the Winds are angry with us over her death. Overall, the rank and file believe we're on some just crusade dictated by the Winds. But really we're marching to our deaths, and a lot of them have guessed."

"Yes." Lavin swallowed. "Yes, we are." His mind was wonderfully clear all of a sudden. He could picture the entire situation in his mind—everything save the object of the Winds' wrath, which lay somewhere on or about the Titans' Gates.

His negligence had brought them to this, too, he was sure. Galas had been right in everything she'd said. He should have fought at her side. Instead he had laid the groundwork for a holocaust.

Hesty sat there for a while, dejected. Lavin stared at him, thinking of all the men who had fought under him, some of whom he had ordered to their deaths. They had trusted him—and thousands still placed their faith in him alone.

He might deserve to die—but they did not.

Lavin managed to lever himself up on one elbow. "Bring me some water," he commanded. When Hesty gave it to him, he drank eagerly, suddenly realizing that he might have allowed himself to die of thirst in his grief. Suicide by neglect.

He hated Hesty for reminding him of his duty. Scowling, he said, "The Winds will destroy us when we've served our purpose. We need to know what that purpose is."

"They won't speak to me," said Hesty. "The basts consider you the commander. In your absence they've been giving the orders."

Lavin was stunned. He had assumed that the army would be well commanded in his absence. He'd had no idea that the Winds had taken over directly.

"I... I will talk to them," he heard himself say.

Hesty looked at him, hope visible in his face.

"Knowing when they intend to discard us is only the first part, Hesty. We need to act when that moment comes—or before it comes. We need to escape them."

"But how?" Hesty gestured at the evidence all around them of the omnipotence of the Winds.

"The basts will not be a problem. We can shoot them. The swans are terrifying, but I'm not convinced they can do much on the ground. And the Heaven hooks... well, I have an idea about them."

Hesty grinned. "I knew you would, sir."

Lavin groaned. "Go get the engineers. I need something made, and we have very little time."