The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

Emalia looked back to watch the Grand Observatory fade into the misty distance. It was early morning, less than a week after Protis escaped, and Maecia was moving on. The two Sorcerers said they could only access the Wonder from a designated position on the central platform, and therefore, their insights into its progress resolved to guesswork. Emalia, naturally, was hardly sated by the limited information. For instance, how precisely could Maecia block access to the High and Low, strangling Sorcery? Of course, the woman did not answer when asked; indeed, she rarely spoke at all, even to Daecinus. Regardless, it would be a taxing Spell that required much fuel.

Fuel, she thought, turning back from the towering structure, alone in the desecrated hills, how callous a reduction in the worth of human life.

They were in a line of men, Dead, and animals pulling carts. The beasts of burden were anxious around the Greyskins, so they remained a little separate. However, there were far fewer Dead now than before. It seemed Protis had single-handedly killed around a dozen of them. Maecia had been furious when none returned, and the humans she sent out later didn't bring them back but reported only half-eaten corpses. Maecia had tried pressuring answers out of Daecinus for how a sole creature could do such a thing, but he had told her nothing. Once more, she threatened Emalia, Sovina, and Ignatia if he didn't call Protis back, not seeming to understand or believe what Daecinus said, but eventually, she just gave up. It was a small victory, but one Emalia counted nonetheless.

"We need to do something," Sovina muttered as they went. "We saw what's at Kremya. If Maecia gets her hands on the Dead there…"

"I know. It will bolster her strength greatly."

"She'll be like Daecinus in Nova."

Emalia glanced ahead. The man walked just before them, discussing something with Ignatia in Pethyan. Curiously, the men working for Maecia were not from New Petha. Maybe she wished to keep them all separate from this, as a mother wishes her children were far from danger. "Novakrayu has a wall, and Protis rallied people to prepare for her arrival," Emalia said. "They can rebuff her."

"Or maybe she'll find a way inside anyway. What good will the han's horsemen be in alleys and chaotic street fighting? It's a risk letting her get so close."

"What do you propose then? She won't let any of us except Daecinus near her, and even then, there are guards. The only way to end this is to get rid of her, and I don't see how we can do that."

"You should talk to Daecinus. Convince him to help us."

"Kill his own sister?"

"It will need to happen eventually."

"Maybe we can change her mind or capture her," Emalia offered, aware of how naïve and foolish it sounded. "Maybe we can reason with her."

"I don't think she's someone who can be talked down. Not from this."

Why does it always come to violence and death? Can no one be persuaded to see the reason in mercy? "Regardless, we won't be able to convince him to this path without first helping him persue all alternatives. He'll want to know he has no other choice. Even then, I don't know if we can make him…"

"You're good at persuading people, Em. You can do it."

"I couldn't before when he wanted to take revenge on Vasia…"

"But we did stop him, in the end. We helped him get Demetria back. It won't always happen how we want it, but that doesn't mean we give up." Sovina reached out and held her hand, making direct, intense eye contact. "You helped turn Novakrayu around. There were a lot of confused and scared people you talked down. I saw them, Em, in those crowds. You reassured them. That's the kind of person you are. You make the impossible seem doable."

She smiled and looked away, blushing. "You have a way with words yourself, you know."

"Only when with you. It's easy to be persuasive when I just say what I think, but most people wouldn't like that." Sovina shrugged, then nodded on. "Tell him how it is. He needs to hear it from someone he respects."

Respects me? I'm not even a Sorcerer… But that was unfair. He didn't just respect Sorcerers, of course. Take his friendship with Sovina, for instance, and that woman didn't even know the first thing about Sorcery except she could somehow partially resist it. No, reasonable people like Daecinus respected competence and sound logic, and she could claim that, at least. So, Emalia went forward to Daecinus and Ignatia when there was a pause. She didn't know what to make of the Pethan, but she seemed loyal and capable enough, even if they could only partially communicate. Ignatia looked at her with mild wariness. Loyal to a fault, perhaps. Well, Daecinus has had enough disloyalty to deal with, so it is a kind reprieve.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word, Daecinus?"

Ignatia melted away with his nod, her suspicion directed outward at the human guards not far off. With Daecinus, Ignatia, and Sovina giving them particularly sharp glares, they kept their distance.

"I can guess what this is about," he said.

"Yes, I suppose I wear my uncertainty openly enough…" Emalia sighed, wishing she didn't have to make such a cruel ask of the man, but what else was she to do? "I'm sorry that we have to have this conversation."

"Don't be. It's a long time coming. I understand the need for eventual action."

"She may be too strong after Kremya."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps. Or her power will be split, supporting an excess number of Dead. It makes you vulnerable to attack from Sorcerers." His expression darkened. "The right moment might be one close to Novakrayu."

"That seems… dangerous."

"It is. Even if she only has one hundred Reavers, that is a considerable threat to vulnerable villages outside the city. I understand the weight of waiting here." His jaw tightened and voice thinned, quieter than before as he said, "I cannot defeat her otherwise. She is far too strong, even without my Artifacts, including the Sorcerer's Eye she confiscated. And even if it were possible, I don't know if I could."

"Daecinus…"

"I know. I understand, I really do. But… Think of Sovina. You two were Column sisters, yes? Bonded by your relationship as priestess and guardian?"

"Well, yes, but we weren't sisters like that, per se. That would be… odd." She blushed and squirmed, thinking of the implications of that. Sisters to lovers? Ew, no. "But I understand your point."

"We've known each other for over a hundred years. She helped me through Demetria's death, when it felt like a piece of me had died. She kept me balanced and future-oriented. I owe her everything." He frowned suddenly as if remembering something. "And yet there is more to it. Something she has not told me. Something with Vasia. Well… my point remains."

She put herself in his shoes, in his position, and saw the impossibility of her ask. This could not be resolved with an argument or by making strong points—they both knew the facts of the matter. It was an emotional commitment and hurdle to pass. "I can't force you, Daecinus. All I can do is help in any way I can. If you want to talk things through, I will be there for you. Sovina, and I am sure Ignatia, would too. I just struggle to see an alternative. Can she be swayed? Maybe try talking with her one more time? It's worth the effort, perhaps."

He nodded but did not reply, clearly deep in thought, arm folded behind his back, posture stiff and upright, angular face held high and ever forward. A picture of proud regality, almost, even when he wore a dirtied robe, robbed of any items of value and wealth. Emalia observed the strange man and realized, perhaps for the first time, that she was part of history now. No longer the scholar merely writing of it or observing it from afar, but truly engaged in its development. I have been for some time, actually. Did that demand greater commitment to doing what was right? To be the example for future young priestesses to follow as they transcribed her story by flickering candlelight late at night? Even if so, she didn't know what that changed about her course of action, here or otherwise.

"I will speak with her," Daecinus said finally. "You are right. I need to try once more to convince her."

Emalia nodded. "I understand. I would just warn you of tipping her off."

"Yes, of course," he muttered, still distracted. "But I need to do it. I just do."

She expected him to make a plan for the later time he'd speak to her, but instead, he walked ahead to her position at the front of the small convoy. Emalia watched him go and slowed down to keep pace next to Sovina and Ignatia, who were side-by-side but not speaking.

"He's going to speak to her again," Emalia muttered, watching him talk his way into an escort to bring him ahead.

Ignatia sighed with frustration and distaste. "She not be convinced," she said in Vasian.

"I would guess that as well."

"Maecia is, ah… stubborn. Does no change. Never in all history New Petha."

"And yet, Sorcery survived there. Thrived, even, quite miraculously. Why?"

"We are Sorcerers as people. Is who we are. Even the Founder not change that."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Sovina grunted in mild surprise. "So, she hates Sorcery yet makes Daecinus the god of your new religion? Seems a little counterproductive to me."

"She despises Sorcery yet uses it herself," Emalia said, glancing at all the Dead. "She recognizes it as a necessary evil. Maybe the same applied to recognizing Daecinus as a necessary part of the story of her people, as much as she wanted to turn a new page. Or… Or she feels guilty. He said there was something there she was hiding."

"Yeah. That woman would do whatever it took to get her way, even if that meant betraying her own kin."

Emalia felt the tug of a potential discovery just out of reach. "You don't think she did something to betray him back then, do you? She wouldn't be behind what happened to Demetria, right? No, no, that makes little sense." She sighed and watched Daecinus approach his sister, unbowed and refusing to bend to her domineering posturing. "We're missing something. That's all I know."

…

I stared into my sister's eyes and tried to see the Soul I used to know. Was she still inside, suppressed by her ambitions and purpose? Was there still something I could save, or was she too far gone? I thought of myself, then, back when I'd thought my people had been wiped from the face of Morozan, exterminated in their entirety. I was unswayable, almost blinded by my fury and bloodlust, by my guilt. Was she the same way?

Could I save her from herself? Perhaps that was too arrogant an assumption. Could I stop her from doing what I thought was wrong? From condemning our people?

"Please," I asked, almost begging, "answer me."

We walked alone, her guards and Dead banished from our presence. She could tell I was serious, and she likely did not want to appear weak being questioned by a prisoner. Or she wishes space to open herself to being persuaded, I told myself, almost believing the lie. Have faith in her.

"It's simply arithmetic," she said at last, my heart sinking with her words. "All the people of Novakrayu do not equal the suffering of a future with continued Soul exploitation. The needless pain must stop, and the cost of even thousands of lives will not sway me. As long as it is true that Souls suffer when exploited, my cause does not change."

"How can you possibly know that? How can you make such a claim?" I asked, almost desperately. "We've only breached the High plane once with the Column in humanity's history. And as far as I know, few have ever touched it besides me. The High and Low are separated for a reason."

"That's your mistake. You assume separation too easily." She stopped and raised a hand, halting the processing of Dead and men alike, then walked toward a nearby boulder and sat on it, facing east, where the land opened up below us in dry fields and distant forests. She wore my diadem of bone and looked that much more regal for it. She was always the true leader between us. "Sit." I did so, feeling wary of her sudden willingness to talk with civility. "I know what you're doing. You want to see if I can be swayed. This is about more than my beliefs."

I leaned forward, hand on the rock, drawing upon its centering coolness. "I will not deny it. But I wish to understand, and you've given me very little opportunity to do so."

"No? I tried many times."

"That was long ago. Much has changed."

"Your position has, you mean."

"No," I said, my tone vehement, "I have changed, and so have you. You wouldn't do this before, and I wouldn't be open to listening."

She nodded slowly, still looking off. "Perhaps, yes. But say I convince you. Would you be willing to do as I ask and assist with the Spell?"

She asked it so reasonably, so calmly, that I saw the sister I knew before me. And yet, I had to be honest. "I am not sure. But I doubt I would."

"As I suspected." She stood and regarded me with narrowed eyes and a deep, cutting frown. There was the look of the woman I knew little of anymore. "You assume the High and Low are divided into separate planes, and that when someone dies, their Soul is split cleanly into consciousness and energy, respectively. But this is a faulty belief. The two are intertwined. When you give life to a corpse as a Shell, you not only infuse it with power from the environment, yes? You pull upon something else? This power is not just Low Soul energy but consciousness. How else can it obey commands, even just the simple ones? Those Souls, which would otherwise leave this world, are trapped and harnessed. Wasted."

"Nothing is wasted. Souls are returned once the vessel is destroyed—"

"Are they? All of them?"

I paused. I did not know for certain, actually. "That is my understanding."

"I've done tests. There is loss somewhere along the process of investing a corpse to make it a Shell. And then, once more, Soul energy is lost with the host body's destruction. Souls are destroyed in Sorcery, Daecinus." She sighed, the passion dissipating with a deep despair and sadness that I'd rarely seen in her. "We assumed Sorcery used only the energy of a Soul and the mind lives on, floating away to the High plane… But this was a flawed assumption created to justify humanity's greed for power. When we steal the Low Soul's energy, it deprives the High Soul of what it needs to retain thought. We are fundamentally undermining the consciousness of countless Souls with Sorcery while simultaneously destroying pieces of Souls directly."

"But they are just Souls, Maecia; they've no experiences or lives beyond death. Their only chance for actual sentience again is to be bound with a physical form," I contended, certainty a wavering thing next to her arguments.

"Another assumption. How can we claim Souls have no experiences beyond our mortal plane?"

"Demetria didn't. She has no memory after her death."

Maecia scoffed. "And just because she does not recall any memories means her Soul experienced nothing? Means it was mindless and dead? That is a dangerous and arrogant assumption."

"If we know for certain that Souls can live and experience when given forms once more, then that gives us a better aim to pursue, does it not? That's what you are destroying the possibility of with the pursuit of ending Sorcery." I made a fist with my one hand in frustration, nodding back west to the distant, almost vanished Grand Observatory. "You speak down to my assumptions, then proceed with a Spell that would block our access to the High and Low. Do you think this is not risky? What consequences might befall us with your reckless quest?"

"I told you," she growled back, her anger growing once again to the levels I'd suspected before, likely due to my accusations, "I know well the consequences. None are greater than the harm I'm preventing."

"I would rather risk Souls disconnected from any form, separated in the heavens or scattered about in our world, than the lives of people I can point to with certainty and see consciousness. Your abstractions are far more dangerous to accept." I said it all without thought of persuasion, without thought of what disagreement would get us. This was the truth as I saw it, not undeniably accurate or solely possible, but certainly more likely and reasonable than her abstract claims that led to such dangerous conclusions. Then I remembered Emalia and what she asked of me. I thought of her example, always reasonable in the face of conflict, seeking resolution rather than egoic opposition. I could not let this fall apart so quickly. I had to try harder. "Let us work together, Maecia. We can conduct experiments, test out our claims, and seek the truth as researchers! We have the tools, the minds, the resources, and the time. Just let us do so when the Vasians are dealt with. When our people are safe."

She had been ready to explode in fury, but with my words, she turned her back to me and stared away at the dead lands to our west. The results of our failure to stop the Vasian Sorcerers all those years ago.

"I will not live forever, Brother," she whispered. "I am older than you now by a great margin."

I frowned her way, fear creeping up my spine. "None have as pure of blood as we. It was estimated we could live for nearly three hundred years—"

"And I have lived for over two hundred and fifty. I do not look it, but I fear I may be nearing the end of my natural life." She turned to me, and indeed, she seemed only in her late middle ages, but then, we were unique, blessed in the purity of our blood as High Pethyans, unequaled in Sorcerous capacity and biology. No one knew what old age looked like for us. "If I wait for you to be satisfied with the safety of New Petha, then it may already be too late."

"Then I will bring you back."

"You will not."

"Why?" I asked more harshly than I intended. "You sacrifice Souls and lives for your cause, yet refuse to do so for your own survival so that you might continue it?"

"Revival in such a fashion is a cruel thing to the Souls burned away. You know little of the damage done by such a thing, Daecinus… But that is not why I would not follow through with such a plan."

My heart sank. "You don't trust me."

"You might bring me back, yes, but not before undermining my ability to execute this Spell. You will never accept it. I know this as well as you. We are two Behemoths forced to clash, inexhaustible in our energy for conflict." She walked up to me and looked into my eyes with a sort of terrible finality. "You will not find the comfort of compromise here. I will not bend, and neither will you. It is in our nature. We are creatures of purpose. Beings forged out of strife, driven to seek power, moderated by conscious reserve, and yet destined to fall victim to our hubris."

"Poetic," I spat, lip curling at her defeatism. "So, even now, you admit the flaws within your own purpose? You know the recklessness in your actions and yet pursue it anyway? Do you not see the wanton hypocrisy?"

"Of course I do, but I accept it as necessary. Few can do what is needed without the hubris born out of such graspings." She stared past me. "I just hope our people will learn from our mistakes and grow despite our failings."

I refused to give up so easily. To lose my sister so easily. "This is not done. We can stop this. Tell me why we can't? I can trust you to work with me for a middle ground. Why can't you?"

"You make commitments you know little of."

"Stop speaking in riddles, damn you!"

"I called the Vasians to attack the Grand Observatory," she said, voice cracking. "I showed them the way past our scouts and guards in the hills. I wanted them to destroy the abomination you were making, but only after we'd left."

I sat down upon the boulder, dizzy, feeling as if I were bleeding my life away. "That's why you pushed me to go north to the meeting with the other magistrosi… It was a distraction."

"Yes, but the Vasians used the information to launch an ambush." She sniffed, barely holding in her emotions, trying to look strong. At least something about her was the same as it used to be. "I spent decades trying to get revenge upon them. Decades. But I couldn't do it. Vasia would not break. It was when I found our people hidden in Merkenia, a shadow of their former selves, that I knew I had to do more. I tried to prepare them for this day, Daecinus. Protected on the isle, wary of outsiders, they were perfect to survive the fall of Sorcery and the chaos that would ensue."

"And then I woke."

"And then you woke."

"You were going to let me drown in the sea when the cities fell, weren't you?"

She looked away. "I hoped to come and pull you from them before the Spell was executed. I had an army waiting for an attack on Vasia to distract them when I did so—all of it failed."

"The Dead in Drazivaska were yours?" I asked, taken aback. "Your army?"

"Yes. I had more in Rotaalan, too. I would claim them long enough to send them at Vasia, pulling away their attention, should it ever wander eastwards." She laughed a bitter, defeated laugh. "But none of it worked, you see. None of it. Instead, the worst has come to pass, and the priests—our enemies, my betrayers—have risen to come for us. And now you oppose me as I thought you might." She shook her head, hands clasped tightly behind her back, eyes misty and narrowed in self-searching pain. "The hubris is all mine. I admit it freely. But no more. I will end this for good."

"Maecia… Let us find a way."

"I cannot trust you with this. I simply cannot." Her eyes met mine. "We will have to fight, eventually."

"I don't want a fight."

"Of course not! Neither do I. But it must be."

"Will you not strike me down now?" I asked, rising like the indignation within me. "There may not be a better time. Is your conviction so weak as to hesitate?"

"Only in this, I am afraid. That is partly why I hoped to leave you entombed until the end, when I could not be stopped. For I knew I could not muster the courage to do what was, unfortunately, cruelly necessary." She gestured back to my companions. "Return. Continue your plans. I will not strike at you. Not until you make me, just as you won't until I force you."

I wanted to scream at her, to shout, to persuade or threaten or plead, but I could see that there was nothing else left to do. We were diametrically opposed, too stubborn to change. She was too in pain to trust me, and as much as it hurt, I could see why, for she was right. I would never let her kill people for her Sorcerous cause.

As she said, we were diametrically opposed.

We were creatures of hubris, it was true. But I had sworn a new oath that tainted it all with my own flaws of domineering presumptiveness and arrogance. However it came to pass, I knew deep down, just as she did, that there was no end other than a violent one.