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Focus. I’m here to learn, not chase Urr’ki dick. Except… can’t I do both? Isn’t… No. Stop.
I take a deep breath and clear my head of all my stupid fantasies. The first thing I realize is how many Urr’ki there are. If the Zmaj attack like they want, fully intent on wiping out the entire race of Urr’ki, would be murder on an unimaginable scale.
Sitting above them I scan the crowd. Seeing so many varied and different people as to cause the idea to leave me cold and a little sick. Old people, young people, men, women, warriors and others. It’s not right nor is it fair, but as much as the Zmaj hate the Urr’ki, the Urr’ki feel the same about them.
None of that is anything I can do anything about so I look where everyone’s attention is. And my stomach drops. In front of the large white buildings is a massive platform with some kind of a machine on it. I can’t comprehend what the machine is or its true purpose but just looking at it leaves me cold.
Along the front of the stage, standing a few feet apart, are Maulavi. A dozen of them, evenly spaced, and all of them looking as if they were particularly chosen for this task based on how evil their faces were.
There is a constant noise of conversations among the crowd as people talk but then the gong stops ringing. Silence falls so fast it’s shocking. A sharp demarcation in sound and time. I don’t know where he comes from but a hunched figure wearing tattered robes and leaning heavily on a twisted walking stick is walking across the stage. We are far enough away that him and all the figures are small in sight, but that doesn’t matter. I feel him. It’s as if he fills the space so fully that he might as well be standing right in front of me.
He comes to a stop in front of the machine then walks up to the edge of the stage, standing between two of the hulking Maulavi. He lifts his hood and lowers it off his head. The crowd, including me, watch with bated breath. As the Shaman begins speaking, Dilacs translates for me.
“Citizens,” he says and through some hidden means his voice booms. “Do not be afraid.”
A murmur races over the crowd but what they are saying I have no clue. It passes over like a wave and is gone in a breath. The Shaman, which there is no doubt in my mind this is him, watches the crowd. No one else could hold the crowd like this. No one else could fill this space like he is doing.
“I know you are afraid,” he continues. “That is natural. I am here to guide you. To speak to you the will of Tajss as we work to bring the next world, where we will reclaim our rightful place!”
The crowd erupts. Going from shock, fear, and subdued to cheers and ravings in the beating of my heart. He has them that easily. They embrace his words and his design. The entire thing makes my blood run cold but he isn’t done yet.
“You have questions,” he shouts. “Of course you do. What has happened? What was that? I am here to tell you that it is a good thing. The quake we just experienced is a sign! A sign that the Paluga is pleased with our offerings. It is awakening!”
The cheers are deafening. They go on and on and when they at last subside they leave my ears ringing. The entire time I can’t take my eyes off of him. I thought Rosalind knew how to work a crowd but this guy makes her look like an amateur hour child’s production.
“My Maulavi will be establishing stations for those of you who need help. Food, shelter, whatever you need, but we must be alert! The lizards will have felt this too and you know the duplicitous nature of those monsters. They will?—”
“For the Queen!”
A shape leaps out of the crowd heading for the Shaman.
3
DILACS
It happens so fast I almost miss the trigger. Someone leaps for the Shaman. The figure flies out of the crowd who react as a mob. Shouts, screams, and a sudden stampede. People rush to get away and Khiara, Gwen, and I are little more than obstacles to their escape.
I’m pushed back by the surge of people. Gweneth on my shoulders throws my balance off and as I’m hit she’s thrown back, pulling me along with her. Khiara grabs on, pulling back towards him.
“Run,” he yells.
Tightening my grip on her legs I twist. The press of bodies is almost too tight to move. They shove from every direction. Desperation and fear fill the air along with screams. Khiara bodily picks someone up and throws them up and over the crowd, fighting his way in front of the two of us.
“Follow,” Khiara barks.
There is no need to answer him and even if there was I cannot get a deep enough breath to speak. My brother fights for every step we take. Gweneth crouches, bending over until she is next to my head with her arms wrapped under my chin. I let go of her with my right hand so I can push people away.
We get knocked side-to-side repeatedly. Khiara is making headway, but it’s slow going. The screams filling the air are a mix of rage, fear, and despair. Then, over all the other sounds, I hear the machine. The sound of it is unmistakable as it powers up. The giant wheel turning makes a thunderous banging. Cold rushes over my skin. That thing is evil and I have had my fill of seeing its bloody work.
Khiara glances over his shoulder then looks to his left. I get his intention. An alley that will get us out of the worst of the crowd. I nod agreement and he turns in that direction. He pushes, pulls, and punches while I sweep my free hand back and forth to keep my next step clear.
Khiara breaks through. I’m right behind him, stumbling as the press of bodies disappears and we emerge into the alley. Others follow us but the alley is too narrow to allow anything like what we just escaped.
I glance back and an overwhelming sadness fills my chest. I want to rage, to let loose a roar, to find some way to reclaim what my people were. But those days are gone. We are lost. All I see looking at the crowd rioting is that there is no hope. The future is over.
Turning away I rush to catch up to Khiara who has pressed on into an alley. I follow his lead both because he is my older brother and because he knows the alleys. When we were younglings he ran with some of the gangs who haunt the alleys. Before he came to his senses and righted his life. He still knows them like the back of his hand. Much better than I do.
The alleys are even worse now than they were then. Many times I ventured into them to find him, bring him home to our mother, but the intervening years have done nothing to improve the state of the alleys. How could they when the entire city has gone to rot.
