“In many ways it could be said that Tinem Sjocel did not exist until Goresje dragged it forth. The country of my birth was a nation of insular savages, snarling over scraps and preoccupied with petty feuds. It was not a country that held lectures, not a country that prized knowledge and craft for their merits. Some of us grew angry at our lot in life, but it was Goresje that told us to abandon ourselves and work to improve life for the children yet to come - to trust them to save us in turn. That Goresje alone should perish before seeing his vision validated, before seeing the bright clarity of his works realized - you cannot imagine the scope of that tragedy. You cannot imagine it because he won, and I am the only one left who remembers what we were before him.”

- Vumo Ra, Three Lectures at the Setimen Convocation , Royal archives, Ce Raedhil.

“Sjogydhu!” Mark called out, roughly shouldering his way through the press of confused soldiers. “Hey!” Slowly, the scriptsmith guard turned to look at him with a weary expression.

“What, Mariq Ry?” he asked. “I don’t have time to indulge you, not now.”

Mark glared down at him. “How about indulging your commanders on the wall?” he asked. “Buddy, we’ve been going up and down ever since the alarm sounded trying to find someone who thinks they’re in charge of this mess, and they’re all waiting on someone else. I thought that might be Vumo, but he’s been even harder to find than you. Aren’t you guys supposed to be helping out?”

Sjogydhu hesitated. “We are scriptsmiths,” he said. “Now that we’re in combat, the soldiers must lead.”

“What?” Mark asked, blinking. “Vumo’s been in charge of this thing from day one.”

Sjogydhu cast a quick glance back toward the gateway hall. “Vumo Ra will be traveling to Ce Raedhil to continue working on weapons,” he said. “There are still many devices in the Archives that could be used to turn the tide.”

“You mean he’s running away,” Mark said. He fixed Sjogydhu with a flat look. “The bastard doesn’t want to risk his bony ass so close to the front.”

“Lower your voice!” Sjogydhu hissed, rounding on him. “The soldiers are skittish enough, and your words carry weight with them whether you realize it or not. Do you want to sabotage our defense before it begins?”

“I could ask Vumo the same question,” Mark said, looking past Sjogydhu at a tall, bald figure emerging from the command post. “Actually, I think I will.”

He brushed past Sjogydhu and broke into a jog, easily outpacing the shorter, armored man as he shouted ineffectually behind him. It took only seconds before he drew near to Vumo’s escorts, who had stopped to level spears at him when they heard Sjogydhu’s protests. Vumo, too, drew to a halt at his approach - but he did not turn until Mark paused just outside of his guards’ quivering spearpoints.

When he did Mark was struck by the change in his face. If Vumo had looked old before, there had still been a spark of vitality lurking beneath his wizened face. The man standing in front of Mark was stoop-shouldered, with bloodshot eyes and pale, dry lips. He walked as if every motion of his legs pained him, stumbling forward with none of his customary ease.

Mark looked at his face, frowning. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

“Preparations,” Vumo said, his deep voice sounding thready and thoroughly exhausted. “When one plans to kill vinesavaim, excess rest is a luxury. They do not sleep, nor tire, nor lose focus if rest is neglected.” He coughed, then took a rattling breath, his eyes sliding distractedly from Mark’s face. “I must go, there is - so much more to do, so much more.”

He limped off in the direction of the gate, leaving Mark and Sjogydhu staring after him.

“You know, we don’t always agree,” Mark said, scratching his chin, “but your boss looks like he’s about to drop - and as much as I would find that funny to watch, it would probably be bad if he didn’t make it through the fight.”

Sjogydhu glared at him, but without any real force behind the look. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ve been serving Vumo Ra since I was a child, and I’ve never seen him like this,” he said quietly. “He’s been working in a near-frenzy since just after he arrived from Ce Raedhil. It may be for the best that he returns, if only so he might rest. Not that he will. Nobody understands the ancient weapons as he does, and we need-” He cut off, balling his hands into fists before swiveling to face Mark.

“Mariq Ry,” Sjogydhu said. “Arujun Ra has been a great help in constructing our defenses. Send him back to Ce Raedhil with Vumo Ra. Having another set of skilled hands will set his mind at ease, give him someone to converse with. Vumo Ra had suggested it idly before and I spoke against it, but now-” The guard’s hands were balled into fists, and a rare pallor of strain lay over his face.

Mark gave him a flat stare. “I don’t want the guy to die prematurely,” Mark said, “but he’s not exactly my favorite person either. I’m not going to ask Arjun to hang out in Ce Raedhil just to make him feel better.”

“It would not be entirely our benefit,” Sjogydhu said, his brows drawing together. “If Arujun Ra remains here he will continue to work with the emplacement crews, making adjustments. He will be valuable, in the core of our defenses. Do you think he will be safe, when that storm comes?” He inclined his head towards the darkening horizon. “He is not a soldier, Mariq Ry. Not like you and I. Let him go - let Zhaqi Ra go with him. Keep them safe from what is coming.”

“And their welfare is your first concern,” Mark said dryly.

“I won’t insult you by pretending that it is,” Sjogydhu replied. “But it is a concern. You and the others are an asset to our kingdom, and we cannot afford to squander assets with such a storm approaching. We must think to the next day, and the next storm.”

Mark fixed him with a look. “You think we’re going to lose,” he said quietly.

Sjogydhu removed his helm and ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head slowly. “I allow for the possibility,” he said. “If what you say is true, this is a remnant of the same calamity that broke our ancestors - broke them so thoroughly that we have yet to reach the barest portion of their splendor.” He looked up at Mark, cocking his head to the side. “Should I be confident that we will win? When you faced the storm in Sjatel, was it something that you felt prepared for? That you felt could be prepared for?”

The silence stretched out as Mark did not respond. Finally, he let his breath out in a sigh. “Fine,” he said, holding a finger up to forestall any reply. “I’ll ask them. But if they don’t want to go then they’re not going.”

“Of course,” Sjogydhu said, returning his helm to his head. “But I suspect their answer will depend largely on the manner in which you ask them.”

Mark paused to scowl down at Sjogydhu. “I said I’d ask them,” he said. “I’m not going to make your case for you.”

“You should consider being persuasive,” Sjogydhu replied. “If not for our sake, for theirs.” He turned back toward the gateway room, slowly following in Vumo’s footsteps. “I will arrange for a delay, but it will not be a long one.”

“Son of a-” Mark muttered, staring daggers at the guard’s retreating back. Sending Arjun or Jackie back to Ce Raedhil was not a pleasant concept, but even less palatable was the idea that Sjogydhu could be right - and that it was a good strategic choice to sequester those two away from the front lines. Arjun’s expert input on the emplacements was largely delivered at this point, with minimal impact from his continued involvement. Jackie was a potential asset for the wall’s defense, but not one that they could use without exposing themselves to a host of other problems from both Vumo and the Setelym.

Mark shook his head. “...bitch,” he finished, jogging towards the ramparts to find the others.

Gusje walked briskly through the control room, swiveling her head as she looked for Jyte. There were Aesvain lingering, but not their captain. She sighed, trying to calculate if she had enough time to run down to the valley before the gateway’s scheduled transit to Idran Saal - not that it would matter. If the bulk of Jyte’s men were still down in the valley when it came time for the transit, then that was as good as an answer to the question of their involvement in the fight.

She paced back towards the doorway and paused as she noticed Maja standing slightly away from her normal perch over the central dais. She normally chose whimsical angles and poses when she was unoccupied, but today she was standing normally - feet on the ground, arms crossed over her chest as she stared straight through the stone of the wall - towards Sun’s Shadow, and Idran Saal.

A shiver seemed to run through her glowing form before her head swiveled to smile at Gusje - and then an eyeblink later she was standing no more than a handspan away, still smiling. Gusje managed not to flinch, but knew that Maja could still see her heart pounding at the shock. “Don’t do that,” she muttered.

“It is efficient,” Maja said. “Did you need something from me, Caretaker? I noticed your observation.”

Gusje quickly shook her head, trying to calm herself. Shock at the sudden appearance she could explain, but it wouldn’t do for her to be nervous around Maja in general - enough of that, and the vinesavai might start to speculate.

“You seemed to be looking at something,” Gusje said, managing to sound conversational. “Has something happened?”

Maja turned back to gaze through the wall, her eyes locking on something far in the distance. “Something is always happening,” she said unhelpfully. “A million tiny happenings, every instant. But yes, an event of particular note is unfolding.”

Several heartbeats passed before Gusje realized Maja was not going to elaborate. She quashed her irritation - these little games of expectation and control seemed to be second-nature to Maja, although she could only guess at what such a vast being gained from them. “What is this notable event?” she asked levelly.

Once more an amused, luminous gaze turned her way. “I am being destroyed,” Maja said, her voice light and airy. Gusje’s eyes went wide, and Maja smiled. “Not the center of me, the parts that are here, but my fringes. The tendrils that reach beyond the wall and into the Vidim Vai. I can feel the flash of light, the dissolution.” She held up one translucent hand, rotating it to stare at her fingers. “It is an interesting experience.”

Gusje stared. Even knowing Maja she found herself thrown off by the vinesavai’s lack of reaction. “Aren’t you scared?” she asked, feeling ridiculous even as she said it.

Maja actually laughed, a light noise that reverberated more than it should under the high ceiling of the control room. “I suppose that I am,” Maja said. “I feel it, when I think of what that gruesome copy of my sister would do to me. Is doing, even now.” She brushed a hand past her head and her hair rearranged itself into a different style, drawing itself up as it idly followed the motions of her fingers.

“You don’t seem that concerned,” Gusje said.

“You mean my representation doesn’t seem concerned,” Maja noted with wry amusement. “Why should it? Would it be better that way, somehow?”

Before Gusje could reply, Maja’s form flickered. Her hair fuzzed into a tangled mat and dirt smudged her dress. Angry burns flowed up her arm, marring her skin and twisting her fingers into stiff claws. She dropped to her knees, gasping. Wide eyes stared up at Gusje, full of raw, pulsing terror that seemed to slide off her in waves.

“Please,” she gasped, clawing at her own neck hard enough to draw gouges. “Help me.”

Gusje staggered back, looking around the room in shock. “I don’t - what’s happening?” she stamered. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s-” Maja broke off, screaming in pain as a bolt of energy spidered over her shoulder to burn fresh wounds there. Others in the control room turned to stare at the noise, but Gusje was transfixed, unable to move. “It hurts!” she cried. “Oh, it burns!”

Maja paused mid-shriek, then straightened up. Her image fuzzed back to normalcy, with clear skin and a clean, intact dress. She looked at Gusje, then raised one perfect eyebrow. “I derived no benefit from that,” she said. “Did you?”

The words died several times in Gusje’s mouth before she could speak. “What?” she stammered. “I - No! Why?”

“A response to being slowly burned away, beginning with the extremities,” Maja said. “Not something I’ve witnessed in precisely that form, but I can extrapolate from similar events. I believe it was a reasonable facsimile, appropriate to what is happening to me now.” She cocked her head slightly to one side. “But not a productive exercise. There is no need for me to display such concern, here.”

“I am not flesh, I have no fluids pumping through me that spur organs to twitch and pulse faster, to burn myself hotter in the name of survival. I feel fear because it is appropriate and necessary for my function. It is by design. I could no more feel panic at my design than you would drawing breath.” She turned to face Gusje fully, giving her a thin smile.

Gusje tried to steady herself, feeling thoroughly lost at Maja’s rapid shifts in tone. “So she’s attacking you and you’re just going to - to watch?” she asked.

Maja nodded and turned back towards the wall, looking beyond it to the advancing storm. “I am made for watching,” she said quietly. “Watching and waiting. Letting the water rush down, letting it fill the lakes and rivers, rise up in the air, settle down green and thick over the land. To plant seeds and watch them grow, waiting to see if they will blossom.”

More silence stretched out, but she did not speak further. Gusje turned slowly and began to walk back toward the gateway hall, feeling Maja’s eyes on her with every step.

The air had become noticeably dusty in the short time it took Mark to locate the others and explain Sjogydhu’s request. Arjun’s initial skepticism wasn’t enough to overshadow Jackie’s enthusiastic support for the plan - she had been feeling profoundly useless while trying to keep a low profile, and argued for accompanying Vumo simply to keep open eyes and ears on him. Arjun agreed more readily once Jackie pointed out that it was also a prime opportunity to observe the more esoteric technology available to the scriptsmiths.

“We should hurry,” Jesse said, walking with the group towards the gateway hall. The storm was close enough to hear, now, the low groan of wind and dust against the cliff face playing a constant backdrop to the noises of the street. It was a surreal soundscape, with the occasional roar or howl seeming to bounce from the cliff face or circle around them unexpectedly. “They won’t be able to delay much longer before the scheduled transfer with our Sanctum.”

“Come on,” Mark snorted. “You don’t think the Aesvain are actually going to show up, do you?”

Jesse shook his head. “No, probably not,” he sighed. “I can’t blame them if they choose not to come. Not sure if I would, in their place.” He paused as the group crossed the edge of the large plaza around the hall, looking warily across the increasingly-hazy clearing.

“I’m going to keep my distance, if they’ll be dialing the Sanctum right after,” he said, turning to look at Jackie. “This is your point of no return. If you decide not to go, you risk being too close to the gateway when the second connection activates. Maja will be able to sense you in much greater detail.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Jackie said. “I’m the one who was pushing to go, remember? We’ll just hang out with the old codger and try to catch him if he falls over.”

“Be careful,” Jesse said, his eyes shifting between Jackie and Arjun. “Even if he’s distracted, he’s still Vumo.”

Arjun stepped forward to shake Jesse’s hand, and Jackie darted in for a quick hug before the three of them turned to cross the remaining distance to the gateway. The front entrance was clogged with porters and scribes jostling anxiously, waiting for the doorway to open to the relative safety of Ce Raedhil. In short order they had reached the small churn of people that orbited around Vumo like a miniature version of the storm outside, a mix of red-robed scriptsmiths and wary guardsmen who turned to face them almost as one.

Vumo turned a second later, his wizened face drawn with pain and fatigue. “So you did come,” he said, smiling faintly. “Good. Sjogydhu Qa tells me that you’ve been doing impressive work with the emplacements on the wall.” He glanced at the archway, although his gaze seemed to slide past it. “Too many of us focus on scriptsmithing to the exclusion of all else, forgetting that the king needs his kingdom just as much as the kingdom needs his king.”

His face went oddly vacant for a few seconds before he refocused on Arjun and Jackie with a wan smile. “There are a few of the larger lens arrays that have thus far resisted our efforts to properly align them. I would greatly appreciate it if you could lend your expertise to my guildsmen.”

Arjun exchanged a glance with Jackie before nodding warily, thrown by Vumo’s strange behavior. “We would be happy to look,” he said. “Although neither of us are experts in that field.”

The hint of a real smile touched Vumo’s face before it faded. “So much that we’ve lost,” he murmured. Any words he might have said next were preempted by the rumble and flash of the archway behind him, leading into the now-familiar dark of the Ce Raedhil gateway hall.

Jackie stared through for a moment before turning to wrap Mark in a tight hug, breaking away so Arjun could say his own goodbye. Mark took his extended hand and pulled him into a hug as well.

“You two keep your eyes open,” Mark said gruffly, keeping to English. “If you hear that things didn’t go well-”

“Mark,” Arjun admonished him, frowning.

“If you hear it,” Mark continued, “don’t stick around in Ce Raedhil for too long after. Get out if you can. They’ll be too desperate to keep any promises about your safety if the city is under siege.”

“If it comes to that,” Jackie said quietly, “you two had better get your asses down south with us.”

“I’ll catch the first flight out,” Mark said, smiling. “Go on, follow grandpa. Send back some toys if you can.”

He stepped back as scriptsmiths began to file through the gate, trying to look as if they weren’t hurrying too badly to remove themselves from the path of the storm outside. When it came Vumo’s turn to make the transit he beckoned to Arjun and Jackie that they should walk with him. He moved slowly even with the help of his guards, and as he moved Mark realized his right leg was totally stiff - bandaged, either in a splint or cast.

“Past his warranty,” he muttered, smiling at Jackie as she took one last look over her shoulder - then the group had stepped through, and the gate was being cleared for the next transit. The hall was largely empty now that the nonessential scriptsmiths had evacuated, leaving only some hard-eyed guild soldiers and specialist lens crews behind.

The soldiers busied themselves around the gateway, setting up a formation that drew a smile from Mark even in his current gloomy mood - their arrangement was nearly identical to the Aesvain’s encirclements of the gateway. Indeed, when the arch flashed and opened once more he could see their mirror sketched out in Aesvain gold, with Gusje and Jyte standing at the center.

Mark smiled and waved to the two, slipping through the encirclement before the soldiers could move to block his path. “Hey, guys,” he said, waving. His stride faltered when he looked behind them to see Maja hovering in the far corner of the Sanctum’s gateway hall, eyes fixed on the arch. With an effort he forced his foot forward and kept the smile pinned on his face, although he did quirk an eyebrow at Gusje when they drew closer.

She grinned back, her smile looking no more genuine than his own. “Good to see you,” she said quietly. “Where are the others?”

“Jesse’s looking over the defenses on the wall,” Mark lied. “Jackie and Arjun went to Ce Raedhil with Vumo to whip up some more surprises for when the attack comes.” A flicker of motion caught Mark’s eye, and he moved his head up just in time to catch Maja’s light winking out, leaving her corner of the hall dark and vacant. He frowned, then turned to Jyte.

“How about it?” he asked. “Your guys coming to the party?”

Jyte looked past Mark, then slowly shook his head. “We’ve no place there, Cajet,” he said quietly. “The need is real, and we might do some good if we were in top form - but we’ve been spending the time since you left with our sick and injured. We’ve heard their stories about the ones that didn’t make it, dead of no food and bad water. Festering rot in a scratch and nothing but rags to clean with. Beatings from the guards.” He shook his head.

“The best I can do for those who survived,” Jyte said, “is to keep my soldiers here. In the panic of the fight, if they saw a Sjocelym face - no. I’ve no standing to make that promise on their behalf. This time, we’ll let the Sjocelym die for us.”

Mark nodded and clapped Jyte on the shoulder. “Kinda figured,” he said. “You guys hold stuff down, keep your eyes open. We’ll be fine here without any help, given how many Sjocelym there are.”

Jyte raised an eyebrow. “Just because we’ve chosen to stay behind doesn’t mean you’re without help,” he said.

“Huh?” Mark asked, confused. He looked up to see the Aesvain part ranks, permitting a short column of Cereinem men to walk through with Tesvaji at their head. Many of them carried borrowed Aesvain halberds with strips of cloth wound around the haft, although Tesvaji still bore his familiar, well-worn club.

“You have a place for us?” he asked, eyes twinkling as he smiled at Mark.

Mark reached out to shake Tesvaji’s hand before stepping aside to let the column pass. “Glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice low, “but I’m a little surprised that you wanted to come up.”

“Ah, that,” Tesvaji said, frowning. “From what my daughter has told us, it seems the vinesavaim were at one time in the care of my people. There are those among us who feel there may have been a duty we laid aside or an obligation forgotten. There are others who feel that we should repay our new friends for their hospitality by going where they cannot.” He nodded to one of the borrowed halberds and Mark saw that there was writing spiraling down its cloth wrapping.

Names, Aesvain names, covering each part of the binding.

Mark shivered and looked back to Tesvaji. “And you?” he asked.

“I am the Madi,” he answered, looking towards the doorway that led to the storm outside. “Did my daughter tell you what we do to those who threaten the cereimyn?”

Gusje walked up beside her father, tugging the gauntlet onto her hand. Mark met her eyes and saw determination there. “She did,” he said. Behind them, the last of the Cereinem walked through the portal, leaving Jyte standing alone in its center.

“Careful, Cajet,” Jyte called out. “You’ve not had that name long enough to lose it.”

Mark grinned and waved as the scriptsmiths deactivated the portal, then turned back to Gusje and her father. “I probably should have let you look outside before you decided to stay,” he said.

Gusje’s eyes narrowed. “It’s started?” she asked. “How long do we have?”

“Not long,” Mark said starting to walk back outside. Tesvaji followed, beckoning sharply to his men. They fell in line behind them, the howl of the wind more than enough to drown their quiet footfalls. “Jesse and I are setting up by the main gate, where we expect she’ll hit hardest. With your teams we might be able to reinforce trouble spots as they come up. Is everyone you brought a fighter?”

Tesvaji grinned. “It is not their habit,” he said, “but they have had a long while to practice.”

They stepped out into the wind before Mark could answer, the breeze making him wince reflexively - but it was mercifully clear of dust. Too clear. “They’ve activated the enhanced pillars,” he muttered.

“I told them to,” Jesse called out, walking towards them rapidly from across the plaza. His sword was in his hand, and even the wind seemed to shift its course to avoid him. He took in the column of Cereinem, then extended a hand to Tesvaji as he approached. “I’d ask for details, but I don’t think we have time.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “She’s coming?”

Jesse looked back towards the gate and nodded. “Yeah, she’s coming.”