Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Page a Day: Two Hundred Twenty Seven

            Let oceans swallow you, Jerem Cozak had said. You must go down, spake Suriel.

            Did Kasora have a Healing Well? I had asked Nogilian. Did other machines close about this time?   

            I sped up. The snow blurred beneath my feet. It was blinding white in the noonday sun. My heart ached with the clear grandeur of it. The northern limb of the snowfield was about a kilometer long, just about enough. Nogilian’s white armor shone.

            Everything should work together, I’d told him. This world was made to work as one. Like the machines –

            You must go down. Let oceans swallow you.

            Let go, I’d told my men.

            I accelerated more. The armor did not shield me from the roaring of the wind as I flew forward. The streams blurred away beneath me and my machine. Now, behind me, my army of the dead began to yell, to scream, a primal triumph sound. Ash laughed beside me. Joy suffused my being.

            My allies, I’d said. The enemy of my enemy. They don’t like nightwind.

            You must go down. Let oceans swallow you.

            This world was made to work together. Like the machines –

            My field’s hold slipped a bit. The valkyrie’s nose slid south. I slewed into the turn. The southern peaks across the valley surged forward. The line of the mountains could have been crystal, serrated and glinting in the sun. I wept gladly for every moment of my life. I was never going to reach those peaks. The immanence neared, sucked in.

            What would you give them? 

            Did Kasora have a Healing Well?

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