Vignette- Earthen Flames

Deep below the surface, down a long winding cave passage, the pulse of the magic field began to shift, began to change. The wild tonality that was all songs and none began to decay. To give up on variety for specificity. Settling, ever so slowly, into a low chant, resplendent with the ring of metal on metal and the slow movements of the earth.

A small, bubbling magma vent began to shift, began to change its form. One beat at a time, one small shift after another it morphed into a bubbling pool. Its edges banked. Its fumes vented through cracks in the ceiling above.

It was ready, the Watcher observed, but he was the watcher, and not the teller. The proto-forge remained unbothered. Waiting.

In the primordial pool heat and magic began to gather.

To mold.

To create.

To engender.

Life.

Chapter 39

The days passed slowly, but still they passed. Moments of peace and quiet frequently interrupted by broken and bleeding bodies returning from harvesting expeditions or the ‘mostly’ safe river trips. There were few actual deaths with Jenney’s near miraculous medicine, but physical are not the only scars and 'few' did not mean 'none'. It was a constant reminder that the new world is not the old plus magic. There was a fundamental shift to the value of life.

Life was valuable but to survive they had so very much they had to buy.

An unpalatable fact that was breaking around Jenney like the tides. Small bash after small bash, wearing away at her day by day.

“I can heal the body, Timothy, to a degree that would make an old world trauma ward envious.” Jenney sat beside him out in the glowing sunlight, surrounded by verdant greenery interspaced by colorful fruits and vegetables “But wounds go more than skin deep. There is a small but growing population of ‘broken’, their word not mine, down below. They try to be normal, and some days they can manage it. Then suddenly they can’t.”

“PTSD is something that happened in the before as well. Don’t we have anyone who remembers how to deal with it?”

She snorted loudly, destroying the image of an elegant lady reclining amongst the flowers. The vibrant colors and greenery were so densely packed that it hid the walls of the hold. A fact that he was beginning to worry was not accidental.

“Yes they had it in the old world, but it’s not like they knew how to cure it. There are apparently lists of things not to do. Don’t go from high stress to sudden peace. Apparently if people came off straight combat and went directly to their loving families in peaceful old suburbia it wasn’t pretty. Had to slow the transitions to give people's subconscious time to adjust. “

“Does that apply to us? We are under constant threat here right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She seemed reluctant to continue, stopping for a drink and staring off into her bushes. Finally she sighed and began again “The below town is isolated from reality in some ways. Those who attempt to help, to the carry packs on resource runs or fight in our defense risk their lives. But some down below are starting to separate themselves from that. They talk about the old world exclusively. Apparently it is indeed not merely a river in Egypt.”

Timothy had to snort and nod at that. Still he did not respond, choosing to let a few minutes go by quietly enjoying the breeze and the fragrant smells upon it.

At last she spoke again. “Peace cannot be a bad thing. Does the peace of those who won’t participate really harm those who do? It doesn’t make any sense. NOTHING makes sense anymore!” She abruptly stood up and began to pace back and forth. “Isn’t that the job of whoever is in charge? To create peace for their people!”

Timothy wondered, was that really the goal? Of all the goals that appeared to be opposed? Growth vs happiness vs peace? The voice from above had decided for them that growth was what was important. For the foreseeable future survival depended on it. But maybe it didn’t have to come at the expense of happiness. No, he decided, happiness could still be pursued.

Peace though. Peace was pretty well fucked.

But… he loved her, and he was NOT going to say that outloud.

The conversation stayed with him, niggling away at the back of his mind while he worked his way through his usual load of study, enchanting maintenance and scrying. It poked and prodded at him till, at last he dragged Arthur aside.

“-So what do you think? Is the abrupt change from the dangerous outdoors to the community in denial below something that needs to be fixed?”

“Haaa, it’s not that simple, Timothy. A military exists to protect the nonmilitary members of a community. It is our job to bleed so they don’t have to.”

“It WAS your job Arthur. Now your job is to help make sure our community survives. More people with PTSD mean less who are on the walls fighting or going out to collect the resources we need. If you guys die nobly we all follow along ignobly.”

“Way to tear that bandaid off gently Timothy.” A bit of anger glinted from his dark eyes. “Fine, if you want it blunt, here it is. The denial going on down below is a major problem. They don’t recognize that our boys and girls are fighting for them. They pretend that the world hasn’t changed. Hell they deny that hogs can now fly! But we are soldiers. We fight to protect. We NEED something to protect. We don’t want to, no, we can’t just throw those idiots out!”

“Ok, Arthur. I don’t mean to be an ass, but neither can we afford to beat around the bush on this. There are already five or six cases and we have only been here what nine months? If you extrapolate that value out it's a serious problem!”

“Teach your grandmother to suck eggs Timothy! I keep our duty rosters. You are just seeing this but I have been worrying for months.”

Worrying, Timothy groused to himself, but not doing anything about it!

“So, in all that time have you thought of some possible solutions?”

“Not unless you want a cure that is almost as bad as the disease.”

“Sure, almost as bad means it's better than the disease.”

“That's how you get people to see you as a tyrant! Bad shit that comes from an outside source is one thing. Bad shit dumped on you from your leaders is entirely different!”

“That's moral cowardice, Arthur.”

His shoulders snapped upright and he turned sharply moving his face within inches of Timothies. “Be real careful with your next word Timothy. I like you most days. This isn’t shaping up to be one of them.”

Timothy stood still, carefully ensuring that his legs did not visibly shake. He took a moment, poker face equipped, to center his thoughts then spoke, “Moral cowardice, Arthur, is not your garden variety of cowardice. It’s that famous old trolly problem. If I do nothing ten people die but it’s an act of god. Not My Fault. No blood on my hands. But if I act to save them and a different person dies then that death is on me, not god. Not nature.”

“It’s normal for a common citizen. It isn’t their responsibility to take on the cares of the world. It’s cowardly bullshit for a leader. Either you are in charge and you WILL act in the best interests of your group or you better evaluate your career choice.“

“I don’t doubt for a moment that you would take on a hog with a fork to protect a child. But are you flinching away now from forcing the useless shits downstairs to start acting on behalf of the community?”

“Forcing. An easy word to just say, Timothy. How the hell do you see that working? You just post a note on the wall and suddenly it's all sunshine and rainbows? Force requires someone to apply it. My Someones! Good people who are willing to fight to protect his hold and you want them to strap on Jackboots and beat the civilians into proper behavior?”

“Melodrama Arthur. Bullshit melodrama at that. There are many ways to skin a cat and this particular one doesn’t need clubs, jackboots or violence. Just an adjustment to what food is free.”

“Nonviolent you think? Starving people and violence go together like meat and potatoes!”

“Again with the melodrama Arthur. Who said anything about starvation? Just restrict the free food for adults to the most tasteless pap. Let them smell BBQ pork and Berryaid while they get squashmeal and water. “

Arthur, his eyes flashing opened his mouth then abruptly slammed it shut. He took a deep shuddering breath before turning and taking a step sideways. NOT backwards of course. But still, the two were no longer breathing the same angry air. “A nice simple answer, Timothy. Too damn simple. Life isn’t simple and you can’t just throw out a wide rule and have it work for everyone! What about these ‘broken’? They fought for us. Would you leave them on bread and water? What about the injured or retarded?”

Timothy smiled raggedly, carefully not wiping the sweat from his brow, even if Arthurs back was turned. “Bread? Hell no, that's a luxury at this point.” Arthur turned and gave him the glare that deserved. Still it broke the tense mood a bit. “Yes, it will be more complicated than that, Arthur. Yes there will be exceptions and loopholes. But I have a secret weapon for those. “

He smiled and waited, wondering if Arthur could guess where he was going.

A few quiet moments being stared at skeptically and he realized that Arthur was in no mood to guess.

“My Da Joe. That's your answer. We don’t live in a nation of 300 plus million people anymore. We have able administrators who know our people on an individual basis. Give them the general direction and let them fit the suit to the man.

“... you lazy little shit! All that bullshit about taking responsibility and you are pawning it off on your father!”

“Mostly!” He gave a shit eating grin as the rest of the tension drained away. Inside he wasn’t smiling. Arthur saw this problem months back… but he was unwilling to pay the price required to solve it. An issue Timothy would have to keep an eye on going forward. That was the truth he was figuring out about leadership. His suggestion, his fault if it didn’t work. And his fault when it did, but people hated it anyway.

On top of that, despite the self deprecating humor that had defused the situation, there was still an edge of anger in the set of his shoulders. He had pushed Arthur too far on this. Arthur was a font of wisdom and a pillar of strength in a number of fields but like all men, Timothy included, he had his areas of weakness. Hard military choices he had whipped. Hard civilian choices he wouldn’t touch.

Letting Arthur laugh at his laziness may have papered over the cracks but Timothy had not handled this well. He had insulted Arthur. An insult that, regardless of how true it was, might fester over time and ruin their friendship. He needed to work on that. Arthur was far too valuable, both as a friend and as a commander, to alienate.

Later sitting by the scrying pool, watching the wonders of the world unfold it still tickled the back of his mind. He had promised himself at the very beginning that he would sacrifice whatever he needed to sacrifice in his pursuit of magic. Had his actions so far been in line with that?

Stepping outside of the moral responsibilities and familial duties he had to look at it logically. To accelerate the growth of his will he needed temptation. As many temptations as he could possibly manufacture or get others to manufacture. Great food, exotic furnishings, hot tubs, beautiful music and even more beautiful women. Each a massive weight on his will, and like a physical weight every denial was yet another pumped rep.

He needed a stable, happy civilization to form. A group of half naked guardians in the woods would have very little extra. Just do or die. Hardly grounds for temptation and mental growth. So he needed to MAKE a world worth living in, not merely surviving in.

What was he willing to give up for that world? His time away from his studies? He would and he must. The problem was something else.

Dignity.

He, like most sane humans, wanted it. He reveled in being looked up to, in being seen as the benevolent creator of luxuries and life. But it was backfiring. He had been too smart, too competent and it was going to start making people nervous. People do not enjoy having someone else's brilliance rubbed in their face. Comparisons are odious things. He only had to look at the elections in the old world. Where would-be presidents went to great lengths to prove they were people of the common clay. Trying to portray themselves as a bit silly and clearly not intellectuals but with good intentions.

They did it because it worked. He would have to practice the same. Stand out and be the butt of the jokes in meetings. Let Arthur see him as the silly ivory tower shut in completely lacking in common sense. His mistakes would be forgiven as well-intentioned failures while his successes would be written off as pure luck.

Did he do these things for recognition?

No.

He did them for magic!