Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

"We go down," said Eloquet.

There was a ladder of bronze set into the walls of a vertical shaft. Eloquet went first, and the rest of them followed, with Eloquet's soldiers taking up the rear. Elice squealed when the water poured over her face but said nothing.

Another natural chamber lay below. The water from the hatch above, stemmed once the hatch was closed, broke into rivulets and disappeared among the rocks. At the top of the inclined floor of the chamber, a pair of heavy doors was set into the wall.

As they approached, the door opened. A tiny man wearing a pink robe stepped into view. His head was shaved bald and he wore a long beard that trailed beneath his shoulders.

"Greetings," he said. "My name is Vestar, and I am the abbot here. Welcome to the Temple Aba-e."

Come in quickly," said the abbot. "Your arrival coincides with a great 'turmoil."

"What was that shaking?" said Eloquet. "What happened?"

"We do not know," the abbot said. "Please, quickly."

They were led through a series of passageways, all filled with men and women in pink and white robes, moving quickly, their eyes down. No one spoke, but there was great industry and efficiency in their motions. The passageways were high and wide, generous light given off by kerosene sconces set at regular intervals. They passed an enormous kitchen, pouring out steam and cooking smells. Beyond that was a chapel and halls filled with what appeared to be sleeping quarters.

"My cell is small," said the abbot. "Eloquet and Mauritane, come with me. The rest of you wait here, please." He indicated a large sitting room for Eloquet's men and Mauritane's companions and led the two men down a side hallway. He stopped at a door that looked like any of the others.

Inside there were only a small cot, a pair of simple chairs, a bureau, and a wooden writing desk holding a gas lamp and some papers.

"You know me," Mauritane said to the abbot.

"I've known of you for some time," said Vestar, his eyes cool. "You are a hero among Aba's children."

When Mauritane did not respond, the abbot continued. "An unwilling one, no doubt, but the hero is a creation of the beholder, not the beheld."

"What's happening outside, Vestar?" said Eloquet. "When we descended, there were patrols surrounding the City Center. And now this great shaking."

"Polthus has been sent up to determine the answer to your question. I expect him any moment. Please, won't you two have a seat?"

Vestar sat on the edge of the cot, his hands in his lap. Mauritane and Eloquet took the chairs.

"They are preparing another offensive," said Eloquet.

Vestar nodded. "I believe so as well, but we must not make hasty assumptions. Aba always allows for redemption, even among the Fae nobility."

He smiled. "I am only teasing."

"What next?" said Mauritane.

Vestar regarded him silently, the calmness of his gaze soothing Mauritane's nerves. "That depends on you," he said. "What is your purpose in Sylvan?"

"I am on an errand for Her Majesty."

Vestar nodded. "You remain loyal to the crown. Loyalty can be an admirable trait. You should not, however, confuse loyalty with faith."

Mauritane's eyes widened. "I once had an instructor who said the same thing about loyalty and trust."

"True," said Vestar, smiling. "They are not the same. Trust, loyalty, and faith. They are all different. But which is most valuable?"

They were interrupted by a knock on the cell door. "Enter," said Vestar.

A pudgy boy with a clubfoot opened the door and bowed toward the abbot. "The news is not good, abbot. The earthquake has caused a lot of damage in the city below. There are fires in the City Center. Some of the people have begun to riot against the Seelie soldiers and Royal Guardsmen."

Vestar closed his eyes, his fingers reaching for the prayer beads around his neck. "Is there a way in which peace may be restored?"

Mauritane stood and paced. "With Kallmer in charge of the Guardsmen, anything is possible. He's reckless and won't see anything wrong with using excessive force to subdue the populace. Who is the Seelie Army commander here?"

"Prae-Alan," said Eloquet, spitting the name like a curse.

Mauritane nodded. "A harsh man but an intelligent one as well. He'll remain calm during this. Kallmer, though, may panic."

"Mauritane," said Eloquet, "there are over thirty rebel cells out there. They are all prepared for aggression. If the soldiers begin firing on the crowd, they will defend Sylvan."

"How many in each cell?"

"They range from eighty to a hundred men and women."

Mauritane did the math. "And the Seelie contingent?"

"The last count was a thousand men, but they are far better armed. New forces seem to arrive with each passing day."

"This is odd," said Mauritane. "When I was arrested, there were no plans to wage an offensive of any kind against the rebels. Such campaigns take months to plan. Why now? What has changed?"

"There have been several visible Arcadian converts within the City Emerald," said Vestar. "Would that be enough to provoke this?"

"Arcadianism does not necessarily imply support for the rebels."

"True."

"I think there is more to it than that," said Mauritane finally. "Something else is going on here."

"Perhaps we should go above and see for ourselves," said Eloquet.

"Let's do that," Vestar said.

They stood in one of the great archways of the temple's open tier. From the archway the entire city was visible, a great bowl of mayhem. Fires had spread in three different places in the city. At the outskirts of the City Center, the Seelie Army waged an unsuccessful attempt to rout a throng of peasants that crowded the streets, hanging from windows and lampposts. Their shouts reached as high as the temple. Elsewhere, once-tall buildings lay in ruins, ant-sized Fae climbing over the wreckage.

"I am touched by a deep sadness," said Vestar. "Eloquet, is there nothing that can be done? Will your people work with the Seelie to restore peace to our city?"

Eloquet frowned, lines crossing his forehead. "I could order my own men to do so, but the cells are decentralized. There is no hierarchy of leadership. They all act independently, as we do."

As they spoke, a column of mounted men in gray cloaks appeared on a bluff just below the bridge that led to the temple. They were positioned at the flank of the Seelie soldiers who fought to contain the chaos in the City Center.

Eloquet strained to recognize them. "I can't see who it is. Perhaps Melnan's cell. I can't tell."

The riders began to descend the bluff; an instant later their battle cries reached the ears of Mauritane, Eloquet, and the abbot. The Seelie were caught utterly unprepared. The rebels swarmed into their ranks, hacking and slashing with a ferocity that was visible even from such a great distance. Within a few moments, most of the Seelie had been slaughtered. The few remaining attempted to retreat into the crowd.

Mauritane was unsure which side he ought to be cheering for. Either way, he was deeply concerned. Something had just begun that could not easily be undone.

"Are you and your people safe here?" asked Mauritane.

"It is difficult to say," said the abbot. "Do you think the fighting will come to the temple?"

"Better to plan for rain and remain dry either way," said Mauritane.

Vestar said, "I will leave such things to you and to Eloquet. I ask only that you do what you can to prevent a full-scale war; that is more important even than the safety of the temple. As the prophet says, no war is holy."

"But, Vestar. The temple…" Eloquet began.

"Is only a building. And we are only servants."

"You are the chief abbot for the entire region. You are irreplaceable!"