Faith Hunter - Host

My feet ached and, like most of the audience, I had multiple bandages. I hadn’t had enough amulets to heal my insignificant wounds when so many had been desperately injured. There were twenty-nine bodies; four townspeople were missing and presumed eaten; twelve others were grievously wounded, resting under seraphic healing domes in the fellowship room downstairs. The domes were thought to be mine. They weren’t; they were Ciana’s, but the town didn’t know that and I wasn’t telling.

Another twenty had minor wounds, and, when I ran out of both domes and healing amulets, I had forced Cheran to assist them. It had taken the threat of my sword through his testicles to make him comply, but he’d helped in the end. He didn’t like humans and he wasn’t a talented healer, but he was better than nothing.

Now, on no sleep, feet so sore it felt like I was walking on tacks, forearm and calf swathed in gauze, I was walking to the front of the room to address the town. Again. Seraph stones. The silent swear words made me smile. I actually owned a seraph stone.

The last time I had addressed the town, I had done so with all the flair of a mage storyteller. Now I made sure to dampen all my mage attributes as I climbed the seven steps to the dais, battle boots echoing in the silent church. My feet screamed with the torture and I felt a half-healed laceration break open. Great. More blood in my boots. Looking fully human, hurting, I turned slowly to face them.

Baldly, I said, “Joseph Barefoot and Tomas and Rickie Ernandez were EIH. Nazareth Durbarge was with the Administration of the ArchSeraph. Thaddeus Bartholomew is with Carolina law enforcement. Eli Walker is a miner with a claim in the mountains close by. They went with me to the hellhole on the Trine. Seven of us against the hordes beneath the mountain. We were outnumbered and outgunned.” Every eye was riveted on me. So was the camera. “We went underground and fought the Darkness.” The crowd gasped. No one, not even fools, went underground to meet the Dark.

“Inside the mountain, and later in front of the entrance, we fought a Darkness called Forcas. We won. But while we were fighting and dying, there was also a battle in the heavens. ‘As above, so below,’” I said, quoting the adage theologians used to explain the unexplainable parallels between heaven and earth. “In the heavens, the chains drenched in Mole Man’s blood, the chains that bound the Dragon, were weakened.

“We were injured and lost half our number. We could have given up and come back down the mountain. We could have done nothing; but that would have meant that you”—I looked across the room; it was packed to standing room only, people sitting in the aisles and lining the walls—“all of you, would have died to feed his release. He was so close to getting free.”

Sudden tears filled my eyes and I batted them away, trying for composure, my throat tight, my hands gripping and regripping my swords for the comfort they brought. “Joseph and Durbarge went into the mouth of the hellhole carrying a weapon provided by, I don’t know, maybe by the EIH. Maybe by the AAS. They died when they fired it.”

I could see the men in my memory, stepping into the opening, bright forms against the yellowish energies radiating from the cave entrance. Tears overflowed and the crowd, a shadowy and sullen cluster of humanity, wavered in my vision. “They weren’t sure they could stop it getting free, but they knew they could slow it down, and they did. The Dragon’s escape was interrupted. I had hoped it would last for a long time. It didn’t.

“Last night, I think it used the deaths of so many of us to take another step closer to freedom. And I think if it had gotten totally free, it would have destroyed the town and used our deaths to feed its hunger.”

The crowd was silent. I took a composing breath and looked at Shamus and his brother sitting at the judgment table on the dais. They nodded for me to continue. For whatever reason, they had asked me to tell the town the whole bad news. A single bad dose, as if that would make it all go down easier. “You may as well know. The Darkness set off avalanches and cut communications. We’re all trapped in this town, at its mercy, until spring thaw.”

The crowd erupted. Yeah. That was pretty much how I felt about it all too. I held up a hand to quiet them. “We can’t get away. There isn’t time to evacuate the town by nightfall. You have to decide what you’re going to do about the Dragon getting free. Fight or die.” Having said my piece, I stepped to the edge of the dais.

“Why didn’t you call for seraphs to save us last night?” a man’s querulous voice called. “Some of us woulda died from its judgment, but the rest of us woulda lived, jist like last time.”

I spotted the man, his face creased with hate and his own version of judgment. I didn’t care if he liked me or not, but the question was a fair one. “Calling mage in dire is dangerous. When I called mage in dire during the last attack, we got lucky. The seraph put away its sword. But sometimes, when a seraph draws its weapon, every human within ten miles dies.”

“Not the witchy-folk?” he asked, disbelieving. “You trying to say that mages don’t die in judgment?” This was a dangerous question and it seemed calculated to feed the growing religious disharmony in the town. No way did I think he had come up with it on his own. He smoothed his black suit coat, darting a look once to the left. “Mages are better’n us?” I didn’t follow his look but I would have bet the shop he was watching Elder Culpepper for approval.

Carefully, I said, “No. Not better. Some say that because we don’t have souls we aren’t worthy of the judgment of the Most High.” Some say. Not all. In fact, not most. But I kept that to myself.

He pursed his lips. “So. Like the dogs and cats, chickens and goats, like the other animals, you live.”

I couldn’t keep the shock from my face and a low rumble of anger started in the old church. The camera was suddenly as big as a house, and I felt the focus tighten on me. “If you were trying to insult me, you succeeded,” I said, abruptly too tired to care about cameras or the motives and intent of my enemies. I’d had enough, and I slowly descended two steps from the dais, speaking as my boots scuffed the worn boards. “But yes, that is what a lot of humans think. That mages are no better than dogs.”

“Are the seraphs really members of the court of the creator of the universe?” another voice rang out. This one was clearly a member of the EIH.

I halted midway down. Before I spotted the speaker, another EIH voice called, “Are the things we call evil and good really only combatants in a war from another planet?”

“Blasphemy!” Elder Perkins bellowed.

“Tell us the truth! And not kirk lies,” the first EIH man said angrily.

“This is an outrage!” a woman shouted. “Arrest the EIH!”

Men in rags stood quickly. All were heavily armed, scattered throughout the meetinghouse. They were positioned so they could cover the crowd without getting caught in a crossfire. Not a good sign. The elders stood as well, and the black-clad orthodox. Voices were raised, and someone cursed. A struggle broke out in the back of the room. Mothers pushed younger children to the floor. It was escalating. Fast.

Romona Benson moved the camera from person to person in the crowd, filming.

“Thorn,” a soft voice said, “you have to stop this.” I met Elder Jasper’s stare from three rows back. I noticed that Jasper had washed the blood off his face, then I saw that he was armed to the teeth. Tears of Taharial. A spurt of adrenaline raced through me.

My champards swiftly ringed around me at the foot of the dais. All three of them. It seemed I had gained a new protector. Eli was armed for bear. Or for fighting his kindred. He leveled a deadly looking matte-black gun at the crowd. Jasper was right. Only I could stop it. If it could be stopped.