Aethertide (Chapter 6)

The building of pyramids, the use of herbal medicine, the development of language: all of these things were global occurrences, happening in isolation from each other as the human race grew into its various races and nations. Some things were wired into humans, it seemed. And Olivia was very worried that she had spotted another one. Death by fire.

Charred from constant use, the upright pole — the stake — stood grim and foreboding. The kindling pile grew larger and larger as villagers shuttled wood back and forth. And the torches around the village cast flickering oranges and reds across the scene like some precognitive nightmare.

A pained gasp escaped Olivia’s lips and she turned to the trio who had brought her here. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but Morn caught her in the stomach with the flat of his spear and suddenly she was being dragged breathless into the cage and the gate slammed shut behind her.

As Olivia brought herself to her hands and knees, coughing the breath back into her body, Morn leant close to the bars with a sneer, addressing the cage’s other occupant.

“Looks like you’ll have company in your last moments, Raisa,” he said.

Staring up at him through the mass of sun-bleached curls cascading over her tanned face marked with the same blue stripe across her eyes, the woman known as Raisa looked feral, preternaturally angry.

“Better than staring at you, Morn. I’d hate your ugly mug to be the last thing I see.” In an almost childish shift of expression, Raisa made a vomit motion, sticking out her tongue.

“Keep that up, Raisa — ” Morn snarled.

The woman stood up, prowling toward the bars. Morn didn’t step away, but his weight shifted to his back foot almost imperceptibly.

“And you’ll what? Kill me even sooner?” Raisa said with a mocking tone.

With a grunt, Morn stormed away from the cage, barking orders at some innocent bystander and not even pausing to see if they were carried out before disappearing into the dark.

Using the cage’s bars for support, Olivia dragged herself to standing. She regarded the woman from bare feet, through her athletic physique, to the mane of her hair with a mix of shock and awe. Raisa looks her up and down.

“You’re dressed funny,” Raisa said, calm and almost disinterested.

Olivia couldn’t help it. She wrapped her arms around her belly as she always did when under scrutiny. “I’m — from another village, far away,” she said.

Raisa looked at her with a mix of agitation and confusion. “I thought you were an Allander” When that sparked no recognition in Olivia’s face, Raisa tried again. “You travel the aether? What do your people call it?”

Olivia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish and she eventually managed to form the question. “They don’t call it anything. I think I’m the first to do it.” Olivia said, her interest brushing away her fear.

Raisa huffed. “And the magi call us savages. I don’t suppose your friends will be arriving to save us then?”

“I…don’t really have any.”

Raisa looked out across the firelit village, the people stacking her doom in an orderly fashion, and said: “Me either. Looks like we’re cooked. For what it’s worth, welcome to An’Mor.”

They stared out of the cage together as the An-Morian people finished their task and drew back from the pyre. In their tribal dress, lit only by open flame, Olivia felt like she was witnessing humanity’s history first-hand.

A man stepped from the crowd and began to pour a long line of oil from the pyre to a spot a distance away where he was handed a torch. Olivia talked to herself in a low mutter:

“I’m dreaming. Concussed. I need to wake up , that’s all.”

Raisa didn’t seem to pay her any attention and continued in her stoic way.

“You arrived just in time to die,” she said.

“You can’t be serious,” Olivia replied. She jabbed a finger at the crowd. “They can’t be serious!”

Olivia jabbed her chin toward Morn and his minions, swiftly approaching the cage.

“They look serious to me.”

As the cage was flung open Raisa widened her stance, bunching her muscles, her body tense and ready to fight. But Morn entered spearpoint first and his minions jabbed their own weapons in through the bars, corralling them out like cattle. Raisa twitched as if to strike and Morn fell back defensively. But the spear stopped her striking him and she settled for a snort of derision.

“I haven’t done anything!” Olivia protested as they were hustled up the pyre and bound there side by side. “I shouldn’t be here!”

Raisa’s voice was calm, her gaze carefully blank. But now that they were pressed together by their bindings, Olivia could feel a faint trembling in the warrior.

“Did you touch a crystal?” Raisa said, the trembling not reaching her voice.

Olivia wished she could do that.

“I was curious,” she said with resignation. Explaining away her curiosity, apologising for it, being punished for it. This was all familiar ground.

“That’s enough to get you killed around here. The Magi are protective of their precious

crystals.”

“And what did you do?” Olivia said, looking up at her taller companion.

“Touched a crystal. With a magi’s face. Really hard.”

Olivia saw the first smile creep onto Raisa’s face, a child-like grin of defiance.

Morn approached, leaning confidently on his spear now that Raisa was bound.

“It looks like you’ll have to share a stake. We weren’t expecting guests.”

“I don’t mind waiting. Honestly,” Olivia said, summoning a chuckle from Raisa.

A deep sound of displaced air like the first beat of a dragon’s wings drew Morn’s attention to a wooden podium at the square’s other end. A cough of purple aetheric gas and there stood two cloaked figures.

“The Magi have come!” Morn shouted, and the crowd turned slowly to regard the robed figures who looked down over them, emotionless.