Natessa, Voice of the One

[The Whisperer]

The frail figure picked her way down the lane, standing out against the smoldering backdrop in her snow white gown. Delicate feet gingerly stepped over piles of wreckage and broken bodies. Maelbrim burned around her.

She seemed especially frail beside the towering knights in full-plate armor who flanked her. Hard eyes glared through visors, trying to look everywhere at once and occasionally nudging the young woman away from some unseen or perceived danger. She paid them no mind and allowed herself to be guided. Her crystal blue eyes were fixed on the ground a few feet in front of her, but that wasn’t what she saw. The wrinkled skin between her brows said she was lost in thought.

‘Are you here to learn about the grace of the One God?’

She’d asked the question of a man, one of a handful who had braved the Watcher raid to listen to her speak. Her hope had been that more would at least be curious enough to see the spectacle, but the elemental assault robbed her of an audience. Maybe they weren’t receptive to her words yet. But he had seemed to be, at least at first.

‘You would replace individuality with homogeneity.’

As was often the case when she tried to share their goals, many voiced criticism, concern or even contempt. She knew by the shambling creatures that followed this man that he was not one of the faithful, but at least he’d been respectful. Better than some, but he didn’t understand. Perhaps it was a failure on her part, that the message wasn’t being understood. Some Voice she was.

Long hours were spent mulling over how to grab the people’s attention. It was such a harsh world they lived in that she knew something drastic was needed. Dispatching the Chevaliers was a hard, but necessary decision. This was a world were strength was the only thing people respected. She thought that if she could show them the Church’s strength, they might listen to its message.

Of course there was a chance it would backfire. Some – like the Herald – would find it difficult to see past the iron first to the open hand behind. But what was the alternative? The end she knew to be on their horizon would lead to the same result. She could stand on her soapbox and bray at the passers by but it would all fall on deaf ears. Her face hardened. There was no time.

‘I will never abandon my faith, and I would never expect anyone else to on my command.’

The girl stopped when the road was blocked by a collapsed beam. She shuffled, uncomfortably exposed in the midst of a conflict she did not stir. One of the Chevalier stepped forward to clear the path. Those remaining with the young woman crowded tighter and for a moment all she could see was the gleaming steel of their armor. Silly, of course. She could handle herself, but it was important for them to feel like they were doing their duty.

Her mind wandered back to the wild-looking man and his determined statement. Reasonable, wasn’t it? He had a gift with words, but as was so common with those who knew how to speak, they manipulated words and spun assumptions without even realizing they were doing it.

It wasn’t that simple. Well, it was from a selfish standpoint. Individuality – the golden ideal. The assumption that her calling was to rob people of free thought. The corners of her lips turned into a scowl of frustration.

Putting aside the absurdity, it always pained her to realize how short-sighted they all seemed! Was individuality worth all of this?

She peaked between two of her guards, at the embers of shopfronts and homes. Thick, red waters dripped into the drains, carrying the last light of someone’s future into the fetid darkness below. Somewhere, someone’s quiet sobs reached her on the hot winds.

Tiny fists clenched fistfuls of her gossamer robes. After a moment she released her grip with a sigh. Zealot, they called her. How were they different, if they could allow such destruction in the name of their own beliefs? Was she the monster when everyone turned a deaf ear to the cries of the masses?

At last the knight managed to dislodge the beam and shove it aside. Underneath was revealed the broken form of a woman roughly her own age. Gently pushing passed her guardians she approached the body and knelt.

Pretty, if plain. The woman had died because she was too slow to avoid the collapse of her home. The girl reached out a bronze hand to brush away the blood-stained hair. She discovered, strung around the poor woman’s neck, a piece of string with a sunburst pendent carved from wood, unscathed.

Small miracles, she thought.

Behind her the knights were anxious, but knew better than to try and interrupt. Under their watchful gaze, she placed her hand on either side of the dead woman’s pale face. A soft kiss was placed against her forehead.

“Ah!”

The body in her grasp arched, lungs filling with air. Big brown eyes opened wide and stared in horror – still caught in the moment of her death. Quiet coaxing from the frail woman brought her back to reality, with an understanding that she was safe.

The woman felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. The Chevaliers didn’t like to stay in one place for long. To oblige their concerns she rose to her feet, offering a final smile to the woman before continuing on her way.

‘Don’t you think that your presence here is what has caused this?’

The man who smelled of death meant that the Watcher called his raid because she had announced she would be in Maelbrim. Her response had been stern, that she would not apologize for standing in defense of these citizens.

But he could not know how close to home that question had struck. Had she caused this? Not this, but scenes like this? Frankly… yes.

A crash caught her ears and the woman’s head snapped to the left. From within one of the half-collapsed structures, a forest elemental burst onto the street. A guttural roar rattled from its vine-encrusted throat and it lumbered forward. The Chevaliers burst into action, swords drawn and charging into the fray. But before they could close in, the monster of grass and root detonated. Chunks of bubbling moss were sprayed all across the lane.

Natessa lowered her hand and the burning light faded from her eyes.

Yes, perhaps she was part of the cause. But it was so that she could be part of the solution.