Monsters of Men

Cartloads of artillery ready to blow the hilltop to pieces–

(THE SKY)

The Sky hears everything.

I knew that before but I did not really know it until now. He hears every secret hidden in every heart of the Land. He hears every detail, important and nonsensical, loving and murderous. He hears every wish of every child, every memory of every old crone, every desire and feeling and opinion of every voice in the Land.

He is the Land.

I am the Land.

And the Land must survive, the Source continues at me as we ride east over the hills, fast on our battlemores.

The Land is surviving, I show back to him. And will continue to do so under the leadership of the Sky.

I can see what you’re pla

I turn round to him sharply. It is not your place to tell the Sky what he must do.

The fog and the falling ice combined have damped down some of the fires in the forests that surround the valley as we continue on. Those to the north still rage and I can see in the voices of the Land that they will continue to rage despite the river. Numbered among the damage the leader of the Clearing has done will be a blackened and scorched country.

But the south is rockier. There are paths through the hills where the trees are thin and the brush is low, and the fires do not burn so hard.

And so we march in the southern hills.

We march east.

All of us. Every member of the Land that has lived through the blaze, every Pathway, every soldier, every mother, father and child.

We march east in pursuit of the Clearing.

We march east to the far hilltop.

Our weapons are ready, weapons that drove them back before, weapons that killed them in their hundreds, weapons that will destroy them now–

Then I hear the voice of a soldier riding up next to me–

He is bringing me a weapon of my own–

For the Sky must not enter battle unarmed.

I thank the soldier as I take it from him. It is an acid rifle of the Land, not unlike the rifle the Knife himself carried.

Not unlike the rifle I promised that I would use one day to–

I open my voice to the Land.

I summon them again.

I summon them all.

We are marching east, I show them. The Land that survives is marching towards the Clearing.

To what end? the Source demands again.

I do not answer him.

And we march faster–

{VIOLA}

“Viola, stop!” Bradley calls after me–

But I’m already riding forward, almost without having to tell a weary Acorn to do it–

We gallop through the people on the hilltop as they start to scream and run from the approaching army, some of them raising the guns they got from the Answer, the mistresses racing for their own larger weapon stock–

War is coming, right here in insane miniature. The world is falling to pieces and the people here are going to waste their last moments fighting each other–

“VIOLA!” I hear–

It’s Lee, at the edge of the crowd, turning his head to read the Noise of the men around him, trying to get a picture of what’s happening, trying to stop me–

But I won’t be responsible for another single person dying, not if I can help it–

This started with the missile I fired, the decision I made to involve us in this war, a decision I’ve spent all the time since trying to rectify, and what’s making me angrier than even the fire or the flood or Todd being flown out of here by the Mayor, is that even when peaceful cooperation is the obvious thing, the only thing that will keep any of us alive–

There are still people who won’t make that choice.

I pull up Acorn at the front of the advancing soldiers, forcing Captain Tate to stop.

“PUT THAT GUN DOWN!” I find myself screaming. “RIGHT NOW!”

But he just raises his rifle.

And points it at my head.

“And then what?” I shout. “There’s no more city below and you’re going to kill off the only people who can help you rebuild it?’

“Get out of my way, little girl,” Captain Tate says, a faint smile on his face.

And my heart sinks as I see how easily he’ll kill me.

But I lift my gaze to the army behind him, to the men readying the artillery to fire.

“What happens after this attack, huh?” I shout at them all. “You all march to the ocean to meet your certain death as a million Spackle cut you down? Are those your orders?”

“As a matter of fact,” Captain Tate says. And he cocks his rifle.

“Did you come to this planet to be soldiers?” I’m still shouting and now I’m also shouting at the hilltop behind me. The Answer and its remnants, the people gathered here, the ones picking up their own weapons. “Did you? Is that what any of you wanted? Or did you come for a better life?”

I look back to Captain Tate.

“Did you come to make paradise?” I say. “Or die because one man told you to?”

“He’s a great man,” Captain Tate says, looking down the barrel of his rifle.

“He’s a killer,” I say. “If he can’t control something, he destroys it. He sent Captain O’Hare and his men to their deaths. I saw it with my own eyes.”

There’s murmuring in the army behind him at this, especially as Bradley rides up, opening his Noise to the sight of Captain O’Hare and his men on the road. I’m close enough to Captain Tate to see a bead of sweat coming down his temple, even in the cold, even in the snow.

“He’ll do the same to you,” I say. “He’ll do the same to all of you.”

Captain Tate’s face looks like he’s fighting with himself and I begin to wonder if he can disobey the Mayor. If the Mayor hasn’t done something to–

“NO!” he shouts. “I have my orders!”

“Viola–” I hear Lee shout from close by–

“Lee, get back!” I yell–

“I HAVE MY ORDERS!” Captain Tate screams–

And there’s a gunshot–

(THE SKY)

The fog grows thicker, twining itself with the smoke and steam rising from the valley below us.

But fog does not stop the Land. We simply open our voices wider, passing the small steps in front of us along and along and along, each to each, until a whole picture of the march opens in front of us and our own limited physical sight in the fog becomes a single walking vision.

The Land is not blind. The Land marches.

The Sky at its front.

I can feel the Land gathering behind me, streaming in from north and south, winding their way through the burning forests and the hilltops around the valley, coming together to march in their hundreds, then their thousands and beyond. The voice of the Sky reaches back and back and back, passed along through the Pathways and the Land itself, through forests I have never seen, across lands unknown by any of the Clearing, reaching voices of the Land that sound strangely accented and different–

But the same, too, the same voice of the Land–

The Sky is calling out to all of them, every voice, reaching farther at once than any Sky ever has–

The entire voice of the Land streams itself into the march–

All of us coming together–

To meet the Clearing–

And then? shows the Source, still on his beast, still on my heels, still pestering me–

I think it is time for you to leave us, I show. I think it is time for the Source to return to his own people.

And yet you haven’t forced me, he shows. At any time, you could have done so. His voice rises in intensity. But you haven’t. And that means you know, the Sky knows that what I say is correct, that you can’t attack the Clearing–

The Clearing that killed the Burden? I show back, anger growing in me. The Clearing that killed the Sky? Does the Sky not answer that attack? Does the Sky turn back and allow the Land to be killed?