Valen
Each step was harder than the last. As if every reluctant stride added a weight to his kit, so that by the time Valen reached the fountain in the middle of the town square, he was ready to collapse in front of it and never leave.
Even with company watching him — the four witnesses of Darius Tulwar's last and bravest act — Valen's rattled nerves and stomach-wrenching shame forced him to stop and rest, leaning his arms against the fountain wall.
"You okay?" Gwendolyn asked, and she squeezed his shoulder.
"I am," Valen lied. He bent over, scooped a handful of water out of the fountain, and splashed his face with it. "Just, do me a favour, would you? Don't die."
"So keep you between me and danger. Got it," Gwendolyn said, her glib jibe a welcome balm to Valen's tempestuous emotions.
Valen sighed, and rubbed another handful of water on his face.
"You're not supposed to do that," a young voice said. Valen turned his head, to see a boy barely tall enough to reach his chest. He had a knit cap on his head, a warm coat meant for someone quite a bit taller, and blue eyes as hard as any Valen had ever seen.
"It's our reserve drinking water, in case the fire gets cut off and we lose water pressure. You're not supposed to contaminate it by sticking your hands inside. Use a bucket," the boy said.
Valen chuckled, and used the bucket the boy pointed at to scoop up more water. He made a point of refilling his water, took a long drink, and refilled it again. He turned and let Gwendolyn step up to do the same.
"Hey kid. Do you know Beverly and Michael Tulwar?" Valen asked.
The boy nodded. "I know them, yeah. What do you want with them?"
"I need to tell them something. Something they deserve to hear first," Valen said, and he stared at those surprisingly hard blue eyes until they turned away.
"They're on the roof of that tall building." The boy pointed over his shoulder.
"Can you take me to them?"
The boy stepped back, and glared at Valen, then Hendricks, and finally Gwendolyn. "I'm not supposed to be going with strangers away from public spaces."
Valen smiled. "Then let's not be strangers," he said, and extended his hand. "I'm Master Sergeant Valen Redgrave. Third squad, first platoon, first company, first brigade, first army, western wall."
The boy frowned. "That's a lot of firsts."
"The Cadavalan Rangers are the first army company the City ever commissioned," Valen said.
"The Rangers," the boy whispered, with a happy smile. He took Valen's hand and shook it. "My name's Ben. Benden Tammerlane. I'll take you to see the Tulwars."
"Lead on," Valen said, pointing in the direction Benden had indicated.
Benden lead them at a slow jog, and talked quite a bit faster. "We've been surrounded by the Gloam for almost five hours now. You came on the first train any of us have seen. Heck, we haven't seen much of anything except that mist. I was surprised to see a train could pass through it. Was it air tight?"
"Sorry, what?" Valen asked, bemused.
"The train. Was it air tight? How did you pass through the Gloam to get here?" Benden asked, his words pressed so close together Valen could barely tell them apart.
"There are pilot lights on the train," Gwendolyn said, catching up and jogging alongside the boy. "Just like the walls."
"Oh, that makes sense. I just thought it might not work the same, since the train moves so fast. I don't really know much about the Gloam, only ever saw it a few times before tonight."
"You and me both, kid," Gwendolyn said. "Where are your parents?"
Benden stopped, and his chin fell down to his chest. He didn't sob, there was no grieving shudder. Even in his obvious sorrow, the boy was as hard as iron. "I don't know."
"Are they missing?" Gwendolyn asked. Valen and the others slowed, and kept a polite distance behind.
"Yeah. Mom was up at the next wall. She's a mechanic," Benden said.
"No dad?"
"He died, a few years ago. He helped build the walls. There was a problem with the outflow, mom said. The Gloam took him."
"Ah. So is there a school group you should be with?"
"No. I'm going to help!" Benden shouted, startling Valen. "I'm going to help keep the lights on, so she can find her way."
Valen grit his teeth, the defiant bellow stinging like a hot nail in his sensibilities. As much as he wanted to drag the boy by his hair to an adult, to keep him safe until a train arrived, he had to remember why he and the Rangers were here.
Because in this dark night of the City, they lacked the power to protect children like Ben Tammerlane. "I can't allow you to fight, if that's what you're hoping."
"No, I mean, I know," Benden admitted. His shoulders slumped, and he looked back down at the ground.
"I can't allow you to fight, but there's more to keeping the fires burning than the front lines," Valen said. "Soldiers need food, water, ammunition. They need messages carried, supplies gathered. They need guides. And every task you take from a soldier is a sword or a gun that stays pointed at the Gloam."
Benden smiled, and for the first time since Valen had seen him, the boy's eyes softened. "So take us to the Tulwars, Mister Tammerlane. Our enemy still marches."
Benden stood up straight, and made a passable salute. Valen returned it, as did everyone who accompanied him. And much like any soldier, Benden spun on his heel and started jogging to their destination.
"You're really sweet with kids," Gwendolyn said, as they jogged after Benden.
"I'd rather be fighting at the end of the world. Wouldn't you?" Valen asked.
"I'd rather be fighting the end of the world, if it's all the same," Gwendolyn said quietly. Valen nodded solemnly, reminded again of her astonishing resolve. He knew he was brave enough to keep fighting until the end. But Gwendolyn Aranhall was courageous enough to keep hoping, and would fight to win even as the lights went out. It was the difference between being bold and being heroic. And it was as different as Hendrick's skill with a sword was from his own.
Benden lead them into the last building in the lane, a tall apartment building with a flat roof. The metal door wasn't locked, and swung open easily as the boy pushed it. He lead them up the eight stories without slowing; if anything, he was faster at the top flight than the bottom. Only Valen and Mildred managed to keep pace.
Benden shoved open the door to the roof, and marched halfway across. He stopped, panting, and said, "Mister Tulwar? Mrs Tulwar?"
A couple was sitting on chairs near the ledge, a pair of thin and grizzled looking labourers. Stained clothes, scuffed boots, short hair, and the tanned skin of people out in the sun constantly. Asides from that, or perhaps because of it, Valen could see the resemblance to Darius. The stern seriousness, the quiet focus, all of it was on display from the pair as soon as they moved.
It made what he had to do next all the more difficult. "Beverly and Michael Tulwar?" Valen asked.
The woman nodded. "I'm Beverly, and this is my husband Michael. What is it?"
"I'm Sergeant Valen Redgrave. I was your son's immediate superior. I," Valen paused, struggling to breathe. "Your son fell in battle, a few hours ago."
"No," the woman, Beverly Tulwar, whispered. She shook her head, and bent over to catch the arm of a nearby chair. She collapsed into it a moment after, and buried her head in her hands. "Oh no," was all Valen could hear.
Valen stepped forward, close enough to converse quietly. "We were escorting a group of youth, nearly a hundred people, some of them barely more than kids. He helped lead them through miles of Gloam-claimed field. He then stood between them and a mob of Gloamtaken, on the causeway leading to the next wall."
"He died out there, miles from a train or cable car?" Michael Tulwar asked. "Was he left out there?"
"No, not that. Tell me you didn't leave him out there," Beverly pleaded.
"We couldn't take his body with us," Valen said. "But he will not rise."
"He'll wait there, until we can go back and bury him," Gwendolyn said, her hat in her hand, resting against her chest.
"Who are you?" Beverly asked.
"Gwendolyn Aranhall. I was the caretaker to the kids he saved."
"Caretaker? That was a prison work camp?"
Beverly's hands fell to her lap, and her head shot back up as she glared at her husband "Michael, I love you dearly, but don't you dare. Darius chose to fight for them, don't insult him for it."
Michael's head swung around as if he had been struck. He looked down at Beverly for a moment, before wiping tears from his eyes. "Aye. Sorry. Darius always had a big heart. Not my gift to him."
A pair of shuffling feet silenced whatever might have been said next, as Roderick stepped past Valen and Gwendolyn, and stopped a few feet from the Tulwars. "Sorry. I'm Private Roderick Gwalior, and was one of those kids he chose to rescue. He, uh, it isn't stretching the truth to say he saved my life."
Roderick faltered when both Beverly and Michael looked at him, but he found his courage a moment later and continued. "I think it's the bravest thing anyone could have done, when he went out into the field. I, I know you're his parents and all, but," he faltered for a moment, and took a deep breath. "But I will fight either of you, if you insult him for being brave."
Michael Tulwar took two slow, loud steps towards Roderick. Valen stepped forward, already reaching with his hand to pull Roderick back. "I'm so sorry," he began to say.
But stopped, as Michael Tulwar wrapped an arm around Roderick and hugged him. Beverly was on her feet a moment later, and she did the same thing, wrapping her arms around both of them. There were tears and sobs, Valen wasn't sure who they were coming from, as Mildred and Hendricks both stepped up to offer their condolences.
Valen blinked away tears and kept himself apart, relieved to see Darius' parents shaking hands and quiet words with Gwendolyn and Roderick. Hendricks had already started telling a story, likely one from their months together on the watch, a story that both Michael and Beverly latched onto like a piece of flotsam in the middle of the river.
A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see Lieutenant Neveah Volenski standing beside him. She pointed to a corner of the roof, away from the others, and started walking. "That was well done," she said.
Valen frowned, but didn't disagree. "I was just hoping to avoid making it any worse than it had to be."
"That's a good attitude. Losing someone is going to hurt, and pretending you can make it better with words just insults how much Darius meant to his parents. Best we can do is avoid adding to the injury. You and yours were direct, honest, and compassionate. I'm starting to see why the captain was so eager to take you on," the lieutenant explained. She stopped when she reached the ledge, and looked out towards the now dark wall in the distance.
"Thank you, ma'am," Valen said.
"Not at all. I'm only regretting that this isn't a courtesy we'll be able to offer to a lot of other families, in the coming days. Things are bad here, where there's no Golem. How much worse does the rest of the City have it, right now?"
Valen swallowed, and stared out at the horizon.
The sun was beginning to crest the horizon behind him. Combined with the light of the Spire, a faint haze of orange now lay over the Gloam, stretching from the dozen yards where he stood to the miles that lay from Barleybarrel to the next wall. With the growing light, Valen could begin to make out the distant wall, and the Causeway to his right.
And with the growing light, something caught Valen's eye.
In the distance, a plume of grey rose from just where the causeway met the wall. No taller than the watchtower, and pulled by a faint breeze, it ended in wispy tendrils that dissipated into the air.
None of which was something Valen had ever seen from the Gloam. "That's strange," he said.
"What is it?" Lieutenant Volenski asked.
"I think that's smoke. Out at the end of the causeway."
"Unlikely. The wall's dark. There's no fire to burn anything. Probably just the Gloam behaving strangely," the lieutenant said.
"No ma'am," Valen insisted. "The Gloam is heavier than air, it never rises. And I've never seen it dissipate into the air. That's definitely smoke."
Lieutenant Volenski met Valen's eyes for a moment, as if daring him to be less than certain."You were on sentry duty, before you came to us. At the Last Wall?"
Valen nodded.
"Then that's smoke. And unless the Gloamtaken have started lighting fires, there are people out there," Nevaeh said. "Gather your squad, sergeant. We might be taking a walk soon."