Echoes From Dust

by L. S. Popovich

Table of Contents

Glossary

Chapter 59: Sunrise

Doubts floated through Riku’s mind. Then the words of her god rose to the surface: My voice is as powerful as the ocean. You’ve only ever used a few drops.

A metal barb whisked over her head, and Riku’s focus wavered. Telos’ unstoppable blasts of lightning were barely enough to stem the tide of advancing cynths. She might have been holding something back, but it looked to Riku like her friend was finally succumbing to exhaustion. The city was littered with bodies. The cries of the dying rang out, mixed with the inhuman howls of the relentless beasts.

A creeping tide of foliage emerged from the base of the Fjord, spreading rapidly. She noticed it was not the typical ghost-white growth of Mitchlum but true greenery, like the trees of the Celestial Plane. Would a new forest overtake the dying metropolis? And would it run rampant through the Cauterhaugh, burying the remains of ruined villages?

Riku meditated, and felt her god’s power surge within her.

At first, nothing happened, but then a steady pulse began to course through her mind. It reminded her of the time Yumi had first appeared, and she felt as if her body was composed of nothing but spirit. The inner tension she felt was a new kind of agony. She fell forward, unable to support her own weight.

“I don’t think I can do this!” Tears streaked down her face. But she knew it was too late to stop.

“Riku! What’s wrong?” Telos shouted nearby, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Riku snapped out of her trance. Telos’ wounded arm hung at her side, but the other hand sent a jolt into her. A moment later, some of the pressure eased off her will.

A ripple passed from her throat into the air, radiating in every direction, overtaking cynths in a widening radius. Yumi’s power issued above and below her own voice, carrying it to the ends of the metropolis. In one sweeping current the enemies were swept out of Mitchlum against their will.

A few human beings stood stunned in the streets and watching the exodus with wonder. The quietude afterward was profound.

Drained, Riku leaned against Telos.

Telos smiled. “That was something else.”

Their attention was drawn to the Fjord. Riku would have said something, but her throat was benumbed.

“I wonder if it was all for nothing,” Telos said.

Mitchlum shook. Scattered clusters of survivors were trapped in narrow alleys as the ground shifted. Huge clumps of soil were flung into the sky, and lightning rippled down the length of the Fjord, carving jagged scars. The structure trembled along its length like a giant sword, about to topple. The rain stopped, and the city was briefly still.

Then buildings crumbled, wood creaked and melted into vibrant glass. Leaves plummeted from the upper canopies, tinkling musically through the streets. Shattered columns toppled and glistened. Once living towers fell in geometric rivers of jewels.

“Petrification...” Telos said, crushing a glowing mushroom beneath her boot. “Mitchlum’s turning inorganic. But I think it’s slowing down.”

Where organic met inorganic the conversion continued at a slower pace. The sky cleared, and a few crystalline stars twinkled. Small pools of quicksilver mingled in the streets with steaming water. A few white organic trees survived, but the glassy sheen would soon overtake them. And though the foliage stopped spreading, who knew what the rest of the world looked like or how far the transformation had reached?

Telos and Riku limped toward the high wall, hailing passing survivors. And though they occasionally broke the cocooning silence, a somber weight settled over them. Whenever Riku tried to speak, she failed to utter a sound.

* * *

A makeshift triage center was set up atop Mitchlum’s great wall. By degrees, the familiar structures in the distance became anonymous features of a barren landscape. The luscious trees that had stood for a hundred years leaned and splintered, and flecks of green paint peeled to join the detritus on the ground. A few ghostly white stalks reflected starlight, but the floor of the city was swathed in darkness.

Telos lay perfectly still, and Riku observed the patient priestess dressing her wounds. Riku had emerged relatively unharmed, but her voice was exhausted. She dozed for a while, feeling a swollen lump emerge on her sore throat, and searching herself for her god’s presence.

Every so often, an initiate from the cloister stumbled by, asking them how they were doing. Telos only smiled and shrugged. Later, Ovid’s mangled body was carted into the biggest tent, one arm flexing spasmodically.

After an hour passed, an unbelievable surprise greeted the refugees. Riku was convinced it was a trick of the light, since Mitchlum was now a land of myriad reflections. But slowly, dramatically, the sun began to rise for the first time in a century, glistening across peaks and valleys, freshly formed and studded with varicolored growth.

The spectacle drew the wounded from their mats, and everyone hung on the lip of the wall in awe. There were those who cried with joy and those who cried with fear. Riku’s keen eyes picked out a human figure down below, proceeding slowly between bars of deep shadow, crossing the sunbeams toward the wall. In an instant she knew it must be Izzie. Though the figure was too far away to make out clearly, one thing was certain: it was carrying a load on one shoulder.

A murmur passed through the crowd when Izzie ascended to the congregation, laid Remera’s body down, and waved a medic over. Riku rushed to look, and Telos shoved past the crowd.

Something had gone wrong, since the Izzie who stood before them now was a different person, or a different kind of person. The general shape and battle tunic told Riku it must be her, but she doubted her eyes. Even with missing bits and pieces, Izzie’s muscular shape was intact, but was hardened by inorganic features. The porcelain skin and the fine iron tendrils of her hair were majestic and almost more beautiful than the rough image she had cut before. Her gait was slanted, and she held herself in an awkward posture, unaccustomed to the feel of her new form. It seemed to Riku that beneath the stoic surface Izzie was barely keeping it together.

“What... what happened?” Riku stuttered weakly. Everyone was silent, waiting for the answer.

“Remera is gone,” was all Izzie said, as if her own condition were immaterial. “Virgil cut her with the relic. He stabbed me, too. My body and spirit were severed, but Omi saved me. Remera didn’t have a god in her anymore.”

Murmurs arose in the throng. Exclamations of bitterness and joy were undercut by desperation.

“She deserved to die!” someone protested.

“You mean she wasn’t actually a priestess?” a dejan exclaimed.

“She angered the gods!”

“We’re doomed! This is our penance.”

Izzie silenced them with a glare. “Holding grudges won’t help our survival. I’d like to give her a proper burial.”

“You’ll treat her with respect after all this?” Telos roared. “Haven’t you been trying to get back at her this whole time?”

Izzie was silent for a moment. “Even after all of the destruction she caused, she still tried to find a precarious balance. Her heart may have been wicked, but would we have survived this long without her?” A few bystanders pressed for an explanation.

Telos grunted with disdain. “I’m going to check on Ovid, your brother. I owe him. Is that all right with you?”

Izzie said nothing. She did not blink as sparks jumped from the ends of Telos’ fingertips.

Izzie glanced at the comatose collection of parts that was her brother. “No one here knows how to fix him. But I’ve heard of people outside Mitchlum, scavengers, experts in modifications for people who couldn’t get them from the Council. Follow the Fjord’s shadow to a town called Chime.”

Telos nodded curtly and started toward the main tent.

Riku tried to call after her, but her throat rasped ineffectually.

Izzie said to Riku. “There will be no successor for the high priestess. It’s possible there’s still organic life in parts of the Cauterhaugh. I’ve seen a few oases myself. And who knows what the Fjord has wrought this time around?”

Someone in the crowd said, “You’ll just leave us to fend for ourselves? What about the grotto-le? There’re probably more of them now than there are of us.”

“Learn to survive by your wits and your inner strength,” Izzie answered. “Build defenses, salvage what’s left. That’s always been the way of the world. Some of you were just more comfortable than others. Now we’re all the same.” She looked toward the spreading inorganic glass. Sunlight glinted off the fissures cutting through the streets in a way that was more beautiful than foreboding. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to start over.”

“The voyin don’t stand a chance,” one of the dejan said. “The mags are adapted to the Cauterhaugh. We needed Mitchlum.”

“I’ve seen plenty of voyin in the inorganic wasteland. Work together, find a safe place and defend it with all your might. Give it time and, eventually, you will find a way to live, or a way to tame the wild.”

“What about the Fjord?”

“For now, it’s just a useless monument. Remera and Virgil were the only ones who could repair it. Virgil is still out there.”

Remera’s body was taken to the tent. When Izzie and Riku entered, Telos had already stuffed medical supplies into a sack. Riku thought about following her, but she doubted the brief victory she had shared with Telos on the battlefield, during the Fjord’s death throe, had been more than a passing return of their friendship.

“Are you coming with me,” Izzie whispered to Riku, “to catch Virgil?”

“I’d like to go to Waypoint, but there’s no rush.” Her voice was barely audible. Riku saw Izzie’s hands tremble, and nodded. Pain radiated from her larynx into her lungs, and she wondered how long it would take before she could use her abilities again. Yumi was buried deep inside her. Fear still lingered within Riku, but it was nothing compared to what it had been before.

“I need someone to help me figure out how to be a mag now,” Izzie said, smiling, “Like, does my voice really sound as tinny as I think it does?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Riku whispered.

Proceed to Chapter 60...

Copyright © 2019 by L. S. Popovich

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