by Patrick Ness
“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?
Or does the Sky take one victory that will cost the Land its entire self later? the Source shows.
I turn away. You wish to save your son.
I do. Todd is my Land. He represents everything worth saving. Everything the future can be.
And I see the Knife in the Source’s voice again, see him alive and real and fragile and human–
I cut him off. I open my voice again to the Land. I tell them to pick up their pace.
And then a strange sound rises from the voice of the Source–
And I see the Knife in the Source’s voice again, see him alive and real and fragile and human–
I cut him off. I open my voice again to the Land. I tell them to pick up their pace.
And then a strange sound rises from the voice of the Source–
{VIOLA}
I jump at the sound of the shot, expecting the same burning I felt through my middle when Davy Prentiss shot me–
But I feel nothing–
I open my eyes, which I hadn’t even realized I’d closed–
Captain Tate’s flat on his back, an arm twisted across his chest, a bullet hole in his forehead–
“Stop!” I shout, whirling round to see who fired, but all I see are confused faces among the women and men with guns–
And Wilf standing over next to Lee.
And Lee with a rifle in his hands.
“Did I get him?” Lee says. “Wilf aimed for me.”
I look immediately back at the soldiers, all of them heavily armed, all of them still holding their guns–
All of them blinking strangely, like they’re just waking up, some of them looking outright confused–
“I’m not sure they were following him voluntarily,” Bradley says.
“But was it Captain Tate?” I ask. “Or the Mayor through Captain Tate?”
And you can hear the soldier’s Noises getting louder, clearer, as they look at the frightened faces of the people on the hilltop, the faces they were about to fire on–
And you can even hear the worry of the ones at the back as the river rushes perilously close to them.
“We’ve got food,” Mistress Lawson shouts, coming out of the crowd. “And we’ll start making tents for any man who’s lost his home.” She crosses her arms. “Which is all of us now, I reckon.”
And I look at the soldiers and I realize she’s right.
They’re not soldiers any more.
Somehow, they’re just men again.
Lee comes over to me with Wilf, Wilf’s Noise showing him the way. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” I say, seeing myself in Wilf’s Noise and then in Lee’s. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Wilf says. “What happens now?”
“The Mayor’s gone to the ocean,” I say. “We need to get there.”
Though with how heavy Acorn is still breathing beneath me, I’m not sure how he’s going to be able to–
Bradley makes a sudden, loud gasping sound and drops Angharrad’s reins, reaching up both hands to the sides of his head, his eyes bulging open wide–
And a sound, a strange, strange sound echoes through his Noise, unintelligible as language or image, just sound–
“Bradley?” I say.
“They’re coming,” Bradley says, in a voice that’s his own but also more, echoing weird and loud across the hilltop, his eyes unfocused and black, not seeing anything before him. “THEY’RE COMING!”
(THE SKY)
What was that? I demand of the Source. What have you done?
I peer deep into his voice, searching for what the sound was–
And I see it there–
And I am too shocked at first to be rightfully angry.
How? I show. How can you do that?
I was speaking the voice, he says, looking dazed. The voice of this world.
Echoing through him is a language not of the Land but not quite of the Clearing either, some deeper combination of the Clearing’s spoken language and the Land’s voice but sent along the Pathways, along new Pathways–
Along Clearing Pathways–
My voice narrows. How?
I think it’s been in us all along, he shows, breathing heavy, but until you opened my voice, we weren’t capable. I think Bradley must be a natural Pathway–
You warned them, I show angrily.
I had to, the Source says. I had no choice.
I raise the acid rifle and point it at him.
If killing me will give you vengeance, he shows, if it’ll stop this march that’s death to us all, then kill me. I’ll gladly make that sacrifice.
And I see in his voice that he tells the truth. I see him thinking of the Knife, of Todd, with that love again, that feeling that will say goodbye if it means saving the Knife, I hear it echoing through him like the information he sent before–
No, I show and lower my weapon. I feel his voice rise in hope. No, I show again, you will come with us and watch their end. I turn away and resume
a faster march than before. You will come with us and watch the Knife die.
{VIOLA}
“They’re coming,” Bradley whispers.
“Who?” I say. “The Spackle?”
He nods, still dazed. “All of them,” he says. “Every single one.”
There’s immediate gasping from the people nearest us and the Noise of the men spreads it even faster.
Bradley swallows. “It was Ben. He told me.”
“What? How–?”
“No idea.” He shakes his head. “Did no one else hear it?”
“No,” Lee says. “But who cares, is it true?”
Bradley nods. “I’m sure it is.” He looks at the crowds on the hilltop. “They’re coming to attack.”
“Then we’ve got to put up a defence,” Lee says, already turning to the soldiers, most of them still standing there aimless. “Get back into line! Get that artillery ready! The Spackle are on their way!”
“Lee!” I shout after him. “We can’t even hope to beat that many–”
“No,” he says, turning back, his Noise aiming right at me. “But we can buy you enough time to get to the ocean.”
This stops me.
“Getting the Mayor is the only way this is going to end,” he says. “And you gotta figure Todd has a role in it, too.”
I look at Bradley, desperate. I look around at all the faces on the hilltop, all the ragged, tired faces that have somehow survived this long, through all these trials, waiting to see if this really is their final hour. A thick fog is rapidly spiralling in from the valley below, muffling everything, covering it all in a gauzy white haze, and they stand in it like ghosts.
“Giving them the Mayor could really stop this,” Bradley says.
“But,” I say, looking down at Acorn, who’s still breathing heavy, and I can see the foamy sweat rising up on his flanks. “The horses need rest. They can’t possibly–”
Girl colt, Acorn says, head down at the ground. Go. Go now.
Spackle, Angharrad says, also heaving. Save boy colt.
“Acorn–” I say.
Go NOW, he says again, more strongly.
“Go,” Lee says. “Save Todd. You might save all of us, too.”
I look down at him. “Can you lead an army, Lee?”
“Why not?” he smiles. “Everyone else has had a shot.”
“Lee–” I start to say–
“No need,” he says, reaching out to sort of touch my leg but not quite. “I know.” And then he turns back to the soldiers. “I said get back into line!”
And what do you know? They start doing it.
“Try for peace if you can,” I say to Wilf. “Stall them, tell them we’ll bring them the Mayor, keep as many people alive as possible–”
Wilf nods. “Will do. Yoo take care of yourself, ya hear?”
“I will, Wilf,” I say and I take one last look at Lee, at Wilf, at the people on the hilltop.
I wonder if I’m ever going to see any of them again.
“The road’s under water,” Bradley says. “We’re going to have to take the hills and ride through the trees.”
I lean down between Acorn’s ears. “Are you sure about this?”
Girl colt, he coughs. Ready.
And that’s all there is. That’s all that’s left.
Bradley and Angharrad and Acorn and I take off through the trees, flat out towards the ocean.
Not knowing what we’ll find there.
[TODD]
I blink my eyes open, pain throbbing in my head. I make to sit up from where I’m laying down but I’m tied down tight.
“Nothing to see anyway, Todd,” the Mayor says as my surroundings start to come into focus. “We’re in an abandoned chapel in an abandoned village on an abandoned coast.” I hear him sigh. “Pretty much the story of our time on this planet, eh?”
I try raising my head and this time it comes up. I’m on a long stone table, cracked at one corner by my left foot, and I see the stone pews along the floor, a white New World and its two moons carved in the far wall in front of a podium where a preacher would stand, and another wall that’s half-collapsed, letting the snow in.
“So many important things have happened to you in churches,” he says, “I thought it only fitting to bring you to one for what is either your last chapter.” He steps closer. “Or your first.”
“You let me go,” I say, concentrating to control him but my head feels so heavy. “You let me go and fly us both back there. We can still stop all this.”
“Oh, it’s not going to be that easy, Todd,” he smiles, taking out a small metal box. He presses it and it projects an image in the air, one full of white fog and churning smoke.
“I don’t see nothing,” I say.
“One moment,” he says, still smiling. The image shifts and shimmers under the fog–
And then for a second it breaks–
And there’s the Spackle, marching along the hilltops–
And there are so many of ’em–
A whole worldful–
“Marching towards the hilltop,” the Mayor says. “Where they will find that my army has already despatched my enemies there before continuing their march here.” He turns to me. “Where we will have our last battle.”
“Where’s Viola?” I say, trying to prime my voice for an attack with her name.
“I’m afraid the probes lost track of her in the fog,” he says, pressing buttons to show me the different views of the valley, all hidden by fog and smoke, with fires in the only clear spaces, burning in a huge way to the north.
“Let me go.”
“All in good time, Todd. Now–”
He stops and looks into the air, his face momentarily troubled, but not by nothing going on this room. He turns back to the probe projeckshun but it’s still all fog and there ain’t nothing to see there.
VIOLA! I think right at him, hoping he don’t hear it coming.
He barely flinches, just stares up into empty space again, his frown getting deeper and deeper. And then he heads outta the little chapel thru the collapsed wall, leaving me there, tied fast to the table, shivering in the cold, feeling like I weigh a ton.
I just lie there heavy for a long while, longer than I want, trying to think of her out there, trying to think of all the people who’re gonna die if I don’t move.
And then I slowly start trying to get myself free.
(THE SKY)
The fog is thick as a white night now and the Land marches only according to its voice, tied together, showing us our way as we near the hilltop, coming through the trees–
And I order the battlehorn to be blown–
The sound spills out into the world, and even from a distance we can hear the Clearing’s terror at it–
I press my battlemore on, faster through the forest, feeling the pace of the Land pick up behind me. I am at the front of the guard now, the Source still with me, ahead of the first of our soldiers, their fires lit and ready to be shot, and behind them–
Behind them the entire voice of the Land–
Quickening its stride–
Nearly there, I show to the Source, as we pass through a deserted Clearing farm swamped by receding waters and on up through a dense forest–
We march through it, faster, faster still–
The voices of the Clearing hear us coming now, hear our voice, hear our innumerable voice bearing down on them, hear the battlehorn blown again–
And we march onto a small flat of land and up through another rise–
And I burst through a wall of foliage, acid rifle raised–
And I am the Sky–
I am the Sky–
Leading the Land into its greatest battle with the Clearing–
The fog is thick and I seek out the Clearing in the whiteness, preparing my weapon for its first firing and ordering the soldiers to raise their burning bolts and ready them to fire–
To purge the Clearing from the world once and for all–
/> And then a single man from the Clearing emerges.
“Wait,” he says calmly, unarmed, alone in the sea of fog. “Ah have somethin to say.”
{VIOLA}
“Look at the valley,” Bradley says, as we race through the forests on the hilltops.
In glimpses down to our left, through the leaves and tendrils of drifting fog, you can see the river in full flood. The first wave of debris is well past us and it’s just water now, settling its way above the riverbed, flooding the road that takes you straight to the ocean.
“We’re not going to get there in time,” I shout to Bradley. “It’s too far–”
“We’ve come a long way,” Bradley shouts back. “And we’re moving fast.”
Too fast, I think. Acorn’s lungs have started rasping in an unnerving way. “Are you all right, boy?” I ask between his ears.
He doesn’t answer, just keeps on chugging forward, foamy spit flying from his mouth. “Bradley?” I say, worried.
He knows. He’s looking down at Angharrad, who seems better than Acorn but not by much. He looks back at me. “It’s the only chance we’ve got, Viola,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
Girl colt, I hear from Acorn, low and pained.
And that’s all he says.
And I think about Lee and Wilf and others on the hilltop we left behind.
And we keep on riding.
(THE SKY)
“My name is Wilf,” the man says, standing alone in the fog, though I can hear hundreds behind him, hear their fears and their readiness to fight if they must–
And they must–
But something in the man’s voice–
Even as the first rows of soldiers on their battlemores line up next to me, weapons at the ready, burning and blazing and ready to fight–
The man’s voice–
It is as open as a bird’s, as a pack animal’s, as the surface of a lake–
Open and true and incapable of deceit–
And it is a channel, a channel for the voices behind him, those voices of the Clearing hidden in the fog, full of fear, full of dread–
