The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 5, Chapter 1

"Now how do you know that?" Captain Dremora asked, though he grinned as he spoke.

"He saved my life, from wherever he is. Frankly, I thought he would be with you, sir."

"He's at the wall right now, working with the company's demolitions expert. Our best hope for getting Barleybarrel out of this mess is to have him carve a tunnel through the wall, in such a way that he can close it up after without knocking the whole thing over. If we can manage that much, it doesn't matter if they can't send us a train, we can walk them all back to the City."

"As long as the fires flow, sir, the fields on the other side of this wall might be the safest place in the City."

Captain Dremora paused at that. "Something to consider, corporal. Something to consider."

But Emily had finally found a thought to pull her away from the contemplation of her failures and loss, and she latched onto it like clinging to a bridge pillar as the river tried to sweep her away. "Sir, if he was at the wall the entire time, it means he communicated with me, instantaneously, over miles. As if he were standing next to me, nearly at the other end of the field.

"It's an impressive feat. But even hearing he saved your life doing it, I wish he hadn't. I need him to focus. To be perfectly frank, Corporal Varnell, he is Barleybarell's salvation. The rest of us will just be buying him the time he needs to save us."

Captain Dremora stepped ahead, and put himself in her path. It was only when they stopped that Emily realized they were just outside of the town, nearly a stone's throw from the buildings at the edge. "You don't look like you're in much of a mood for a celebration."

Emily shrugged. "No, sir. I lost people out there."

The Captain nodded, as if to confirm a suspicion. "Appropriate. I trust you won't be bothered if you find some of the civilians up ahead are celebrating?"

"That might sting, sir. They lost people, and it's my fault."

"No, Varnell. You snatched over two hundred people from the Gloam. Of the six civilians who died, two were killed in the tragedy of following your sergeant, and four died on their feet fighting to save their people. Exactly the way I'd want to go, if I had to. Remain solemn, it's both your prerogative and given the lives lost, entirely appropriate. But you will not begrudge them their celebration. This is a victory, Corporal."

"It doesn't feel like much of a victory, sir," Emily said. The bitterness in her own voice made her flinch, and she couldn't meet the captain's gaze as he looked down at her.

"Actually, this is exactly what victory feels like, in our line of work. It's the most painful thing you can live through, after defeat," Captain Dremora said, and the wind felt cold, as it blew in from the north.

It always blew towards the City. Towards the Spire.

Cheers erupted ahead, well ahead of Emily and the captain, where the first of the civilians were crossing through the pilot lights at the edge of town. A crowd was already gathering to greet them, and the quiet, grim march of the last hour faded like fog from a window, as they reached the warmth of their homes.

Children cried out for their parents. Husbands, wives, families embraced, some kissed for so long they had to be gently guided aside so others could pass. There were cries and tears, but of relief, of gratitude. A man danced with two small children on his shoulders. A woman embraced an elderly mother. A group of a dozen children, child to teen, buried another woman under an avalanche of hugs and tears.

Barleybarrel embraced its missing people, and welcomed them home.

And in that crowd, like a missed note in a symphony, a woman stood alone. Wading through the sea of joy, eyes wide and head turning, her expectant expression waning moment by moment as she realized what she was looking for wasn't there.