City of Ruin

FIFTY-FIVE

Voices were the first thing to return to the abandoned streets. Conversation, everywhere more conversation, people talking about what had happened, what to do, where had so-and-so gone, have you seen my husband, my son, my daughter? People were coming back to the city, finding their homes no longer there, whole streets and entire districts had vanished.

Marysa stepped carefully through the rubble-littered streets. Cultists had begun a clear-up, and uniformed personnel trotted everywhere, carrying their weapons. Now and then there'd be an alien scream as one of the Okun was found hiding in the darkness, and was slaughtered. Such incidents made the return to their homes more frightening than a relief for the people of Villiren.

She proceeded with purpose, now and then glancing at the map she kept in her pocket, but it was of little use. She was heading past the whalebone archways and the giant Onyx Wings, towards the little bistro that Jeryd and she had agreed would be a good place to meet after the conflict.

A lot of things had happened underground which she now wanted to forget – they didn't actually happen to her, just to others, but that didn't make the experiences any more agreeable. How could people be so cruel to one another in a time of desperation? While the majority felt solidarity, there seemed to be a predatory few who would ruin the lives of others in fulfilling their own selfish needs and desires. Now and then humans would stare at her and shout abuse for her being a rumel, but she couldn't blame them because of the alien redskins that had been part of the invasion.

People feared only what they did not understand.

*

It was now some time around mid-morning, and she stopped to watch several cultists use a cone-like device to shatter rubble. Even they themselves seemed surprised at the effectiveness of the contraptions.

Paths were slowly carved, gaps in the snow-covered city forming, allowing people to pass through. Horses, and other weird beasts, were used to help cart away chunks of salvageable masonry. Already, useful items were being sold by quick-thinking traders. Makeshift irens sprang up, and soldiers and civilians gathered there, queues several people thick. All faces looked so tired, as if something had vanished from their existence, and they were now struggling to hold on.

Most of all, she hoped Jeryd was OK.

*

The shadow of the Wings seemed bolder than she could remember. War hadn't visited here, or destroyed buildings, but most were empty. In some cases, boards were already being lifted from the windows. And there was the bistro they had agreed to meet in, seemingly unscarred. She walked towards it, her belongings suddenly heavy across her shoulders.

She waited for him as sunlight skimmed off the cobbles, shading her eyes as she looked up and down the street.

Marysa waited for him. And she waited.

*

The red sun slouched across the sky, as more and more people sauntered past in front of her. She examined their faces eagerly to see if one might be her husband, then eventually she stopped looking, because the routine had become too depressing.

Please let Jeryd be OK.

A massive lump rose in her throat as she fingered the medallion he had given her. She looked up to see that the darkness of evening wasn't far away.

Sighing, Marysa pushed herself back out into the mainstream of the city, back to find somewhere to spend the night. She passed citizens huddling in blankets by the warmth of barrel-drum fires.

As agreed, she would return again tomorrow, to wait for Jeryd.

There was always tomorrow.