am-books Chapter 59 - Confrontation
Chapter 59 - Confrontation
Anger bubbled up in Mirian as she looked at Priest Krier. Torrviol is threatened by attack, and this is how you spend your time? The acolytes with him stepped forward, torches still burning with white fire.
Mirian took a step back. "I'm not a heretic," she said, trying to suppress her anger. "I'm just trying to save as many lives as I can."
"You claim to be a new Prophet, but do not follow the—"
"No I don't," Mirian said, interrupting him, taking another step back.
Priest Krier's eyes narrowed. "If you predict the future, then you claim Prophesy. Do you deny it?"
Mirian thought about trying to explain that she was only saying what had happened in previous loops, which was her past, but gave insight into the current future, but she didn't think wordplay was going to save her. Instead, the anger in her erupted. "In past loops, I did come to you. You dismissed me! You did, holy one! And when you did, Torrviol burned. Do you know what happens if I stay silent? You die. All of you do! I've watched as the people of Torrviol are slaughtered like animals."
She was shouting now, with such intensity that the acolytes approaching her had halted. Krier wanted a spectacle? She'd give him one. "Torrviol and its people stand on the brink of annihilation, and this is what you think is important? You'd rather try to dish out mob justice to someone trying to warn everyone than organize a defense?"
Priest Krier's face grew grim. "You dare lecture me—you dare lecture me? It is clear you are a heretic, as only a heretic would speak to a priest like that." His hand went to his chest.
Mirian's eyes grew wide. Was he about to work soul magic? What divine spells did the Luminate Order even know? She had only ever heard of the healing magic they worked—but what if Xipuatl was right?
She felt a hand on her shoulder. A man from the crowd had stepped forward. "Holy one, I beg your forgiveness, but this is not how things are done in Torrviol. If you have criminal charges to levy, they are presented to the magistrate's office."
There were murmurs of assent from the people gathered. "She hasn't tried to steal your congregation, holy one," a woman carrying a basket of bread called out.
"You would stand by this heretic?" Priest Krier called out. His hand pressed tighter on his chest. Mirian couldn't help but stare at that point. She felt her anticipation building.
"Follow the rule of law, priest," an older man called out.
"He is following the highest law," one of the acolytes said, eyes reflecting the white torchlight.
"Is that so?" the man standing by Mirian's side said. "And what was Shiamagoth's law?"
More murmurs echoed through the crowd. Everyone there knew it; they'd heard Priest Krier say it. Power is only righteous if it protects life.
The priest opened his mouth, then closed it.
"A wise priest once told me, 'live like the prophets,'" one of the women said. Krier said it regularly in his sermons, Mirian knew.
Mirian's eyes were drawn to the map on the table. Several glass beads seemed to represent the strongpoints in question. They were fanned out to the south and east of Bainrose, with one by the plaza and another by the forum. "Have you accounted for the underground?" she asked.
"The underground?" another of the businessmen asked.
"The spies mapped it out. Squads of Akanans will be coming through the northern catacombs directly into the library basement. One of them is the passage I showed you, Cassius. The other is nearby, but I haven't mapped it. I don't know if they'll try to have soldiers rappel down from the airship if they haven't gotten a signal from the castle, but we should be ready for it. Another group seems to make its way through the underground and pops out near the forum, behind the lines. Griffin Hall has one passage, but I don't know where the second is. The maps are restricted."
Cassius looked at Mirian, again seeming to reassess her. "Several of my colleagues know where those maps are. I'll get in touch with them. We'll need to put some blocking squads at the entrances. The militias should be able to handle that. Build barricades out of furniture, then strongly discourage anyone from tampering with them."
Mirian examined the map for anything else they'd missed, replaying the movement of the soldiers through the fields and streets. She could hear the screaming in her mind, broken up only by the sound of artillery. "Torrian Tower can only be used at the lower levels. The top part gets blown up, and falls here," she said, pointing. "We might disrupt their artillery enough to save the tower, but we might not. And if the artillery doesn't do it, the airships might."
Cassius leaned back in his chair, puzzled. "A simple artillery shot shouldn't be able to take down Torrian Tower. The only thing with stronger construction is Bainrose, and that's only because the sheer quantity of stone. Do they have a... special weapon, perhaps? None of the Akanan shells I'm familiar with should be able to do that."
"I'm not sure," Mirian admitted.
Captain Moliner talked about deployment next. "Untrained citizens will do best on the defensive. The fallback positions will be here and here, which will still keep a corridor open to Bainrose for supplies and reinforcement. If we can hold this line between the castle and the lake and keep the station out of direct enemy fire, we stand the best chance of lasting until reinforcements can be brought up from the south. We'll need to hold five days at least."
Mirian felt her mouth go dry, and something must have shown on her face, because one of the businessmen said, "Is something wrong?"
She forced a smile. "No," she lied.
"She doesn't think we can do it," another said, misinterpreting Mirian's apprehension.
"She's right," Moliner said. "Even with all this preparation, we'll be outnumbered, outgunned, and underprepared. You can count the number of people who have seen combat in this town on one hand that's missing fingers. I can't speak to what will happen to unit cohesion or morale when these youngsters start having flame-burst shells landing near them. It might hold. It might break immediately."
The third businessman was grinding his teeth, looking at the map. "Why don't we simply evacuate the town? Why even try to hold, if it's so hopeless?"
Moliner replied. "There's simply no way to get everyone out on the trains, or the roads. Not in time. We can continue to evacuate people if we hold long enough. That will take a lot of time. We only have the one route."
The man was still looking dejectedly at the map. "It still doesn't make any damn sense. It's Akana Praediar. Why would they do this?"
Mirian had no answer for him.
As silence fell over the room, the mood grew dark. Mirian wanted to say something, like don't worry, you'll all get another chance to get it right, you just won't remember, but that wasn't likely to help. They conceived themselves as people in this current moment, with lives that would either continue or end; that some parallel version of themselves with only a month of memories' difference would survive would do nothing to lighten the shadow of doom they were living under. She felt she should say something, but was at a loss as to what might help.
She was saved by a woman bursting into the room, the orange and white cloth tied around her arm indicating her as another of the militia members. "The repair car just arrived at the station. The tracks are fixed, the train is on its way! They're coming!"