The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  “I-I didn’t lie, though,” Tira said, brandishing a defensive hand. “Well… that’s not true…I did lie the second time I saw you, at the Church. I didn’t really need a Gadget; Bat sent me to find out why you’d disappeared, and when I saw you I knew something was wrong. But I was still a member of the Church of Enahris the first time we met, I promise!”

  “Tira.” Bat laid a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s all right. You have nothing to feel bad for. You’ve done excellent work, and don’t forget that without you, Kitieri would still be a prisoner. Isn’t that right?”

  Bat turned expectant eyes on Kitieri, who glanced between the two women. “So, Haldin…?” She cleared her throat. “He was working with you, too, to get me out of there?”

  “Oh, no.” Bat laughed. “No, Handsome had his own agenda, as it turned out, and apparently made his own plan when Tira showed up demanding to see you. I’d been expecting you at the pillar long before you came, so I sent Tira to check out your mysterious absence and the Commander executed my next phase of action better than I ever could have hoped. He sent you right to me.”

  Kitieri twisted to find the only window in the room. It was still light out, but without any bearings, she couldn’t tell if it was morning or afternoon. “How long was I out?”

  Bat tilted her head. “Why, got somewhere to be?”

  “Yes. Haldin’s waiting for me.”

  Bat barked a shrill laugh. “You’re actually planning on going back there?” She slapped her knee. “Girl, you’re crazier than I thought.”

  Kitieri leveled the woman with a smoldering glare as Bat made a dramatic show of wiping a tear from under her eye.

  “Oh, fine,” she sighed. “You were only out a couple hours, but you’re really in no shape to be going anywhere.”

  “Are you gonna stop me?” Kitieri asked.

  The humor fled from Bat’s face as they locked eyes.

  “Will you listen, first?” Bat asked. “I did save your life back there from Supreme Asshole. It’s the least you can do.”

  Kitieri rested her shoulders back against the pillow with a quiet growl.

  “All right,” she said. “Then what in the hells are all of these names about, and what do they have to do with me?”

  Bat’s expression lit up again, and she leaned forward on the very edge of her seat. “Do you know how the original Churches came to be?”

  Kitieri lowered her eyes, shaking her head, and Bat tapped the book in her lap.

  “This is how,” she said. “Names. Pledges of loyalty and worship from when the gods once walked among us. Histan, the brave and powerful; and Enahris, the compassionate and nurturing, or so they claimed. The people chose their gods, and took their oath of service by writing their names in the Church’s book.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Kitieri scoffed. “Gods aren’t real.”

  Bat flashed a grin. “Looking through history, it’s undeniable that two beings named Histan and Enahris existed about a thousand years ago. They’re all over the scrolls from hundreds of different accounts. My personal theory is that they were two people who simply capitalized on a tumultuous time in our history to take power and assume leadership. There’s never not been competition between the two, even from their earliest mentions, but that’s human nature for you.

  “But the important part,” Bat went on, nodding to the book, “is how they went about solving their power issues. In those early days of the Churches, there was instant bickering and fighting. Which side was better, which side more powerful, which side had the right to rule the people. So a new law was written, outlining the bare minimum an organization needed to be considered a Church, thus reserving the right to govern their own members without interference from the other.”

  Eriat leaned against the bedpost near Kitieri’s head.

  “A poorly written law, at best,” he said. “It would never fly by today’s standards. Yet it remains on our city’s scrolls, engraved in history.”

  “To be considered a valid Church,” Bat continued, “you need a figurehead—a head, not a god, mind you—a Baliant, a Board, and at least two thousand pledges. Go ahead and count them, there, if you want.”

  Kitieri’s eyes followed Bat’s gesture to the book.

  “You’re telling me,” Kitieri said, leafing slowly through the pages, “that you somehow got two thousand people to abandon their Church to follow you?”

  “Two thousand, one hundred, and forty-three, to be exact,” Bat said proudly. “I mean, to be fair, two thousand was a lot of people back when the law was introduced, but it’s still been damned near impossible to get that kind of gathering without being caught and murdered—”

  “Why?”

  Bat froze, and her open mouth curved into a grin. “Now, Kitieri, you can’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”

  “Seen what?”

  “People are dying.” Bat lurched forward, hands on her knees. “The Churches are corrupt. The Boards run those places with iron fists, and they’re happy to watch people die. They need the people to die.”

  “Need?”

  “Why do you think the Boards are instigating a war between their Churches?”

  Kitieri looked away, a sick feeling sinking to the pit of her stomach. As insane as this woman sounded, she was right. Even Stil had mentioned Amadora as if she was an ally.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “Wouldn’t the Churches need their people and their officers alive?”

  “Ah.” Bat held up one knobby finger. “Only if things were status quo. But you see—”

  Kitieri’s eyes opened wide as air rushed into her lungs. “The lightning,” she breathed. “The extinction point Catarva talked about.”

  Bat’s eyebrows shot up. “Catarva let you in on that one, huh? Surprises me.”

  “She thinks I can help,” Kitieri said.

  “Oh!” Bat threw her head back in another fit of laughter, slapping Eriat with the back of her hand. “She wants Kitieri’s help. Oh, that’s rich, isn’t it?”

  Kitieri’s temper flared as she watched their amused exchange. “I want to help,” she snapped. “I don’t know how yet, but if I can save lives—”

  Bat snatched the book out of Kitieri’s lap and brandished it in her face.

  “You want to save lives?” She lowered her voice, suddenly vehement. “Here’s two thousand, one hundred and forty-three of them that need you. The Churches had their chance. Tiernan disappeared ten years ago and left his to the wolves, and Catarva has proven incapable of managing her own. The Boards have far too much power, and all that matters to them is that as many people as possible die before the lightning takes over so they can live in comfort on the meager resources that will be left.”

  Kitieri stared, open-mouthed, as Bat’s tirade put words to her deepest fears.

  “There’s only so much cintra in the city,” Bat went on, more softly this time. “It seems endless, but when the lightning overpowers our structures, it will go fast. You’re the expert, Eriat—you tell her.”

  Eriat nodded solemnly beside her, smoothing his well-trimmed white beard.

  “Yes, it will,” he confirmed. “Before all of this, I was a cintra engineer. I studied the crystals even before the Strikes started, and I had a hand in designing the first PCRs. I was already involved with the Church of Shirasette when Stil assigned me to a bigger project—much bigger. He wanted me to design monstrous, immovable machines that could protect specific areas only. They require more cintra than you can imagine, and their projected range in lightning that severe is… pathetically limited. All that is to say that very few will be protected when the lightning takes over. A few farms outside our walls, the Churches and their grounds, and that’s about it.”

  “And a war would go a long way toward clearing out some of those unnecessary mouths to feed, wouldn’t it?” Bat said, twisting the corner of her mouth.

  Kitieri released her pent-up air, lifting a bandaged hand to her mouth.

  �
��And that’s how the Church of Shirasette began,” Bat said. “What started as an attempt to offer refuge to the homeless, the parentless, the starving—anyone affected by the lightning with no means to help themselves—grew like crazy. We had to keep it under wraps, or Stil would have had us all killed for hiding children he thinks belong to him, and even the Church of Enahris could no longer be trusted once Amadora started turning refugees over to Stil. But even working in secret, more and more people found their way here every day.”

  Kitieri nodded slowly. If word of this place had reached her or Noia before… well… they all could have been safe.

  “Where is ‘here’?” she asked.

  “You are currently on the second floor of a converted warehouse Eriat owns,” Bat said.

  “Cintra engineering had its perks, not the least of which was high pay.” Eriat shrugged with a grin.

  “You’re telling me that over two thousand people live in a secret warehouse?” Kitieri asked.

  “No, no.” Bat laughed. “Only about three hundred live here, mostly orphans and widows. Many only need partial support, like a hot meal now and then, or to borrow a Gadget here and there, and we provide that. Everyone pools their resources for the betterment of the whole, and we save lives.”

  “But,” Eriat said, “the bigger we grow, the greater the danger.”

  Bat nodded. “It’s only a matter of time before Stil finds us. He’s aware of our operations, and he’s noticing the reduced numbers of orphans and deaths, despite the Strikes’ growing frequency. Eriat and I spent many long, sleepless nights looking for a solution.”

  “And then you showed up,” Eriat said. Kitieri frowned.

  “You didn’t think that stunt at the pillar went unnoticed, did you?” Bat asked. “I’ve been following you ever since. You did it again outside Tira’s house and saved a life, and that’s when I knew.”

  “I don’t get it,” Kitieri said slowly.

  “Kitieri,” Bat started, looking down at the book of names. “You don’t know who you are. I can see it. I see the doubt and pain in your eyes from being hunted and persecuted at every turn. Two Churches want you dead or locked away, but do you know why?”

  Kitieri dropped her eyes. “I’m dangerous.”

  Bat’s grin widened to show her teeth.

  “You are, but not in the way you think,” she said. “Since the Strikes started, the Churches have been finding ways to capitalize on them. Fear is a powerful tool that keeps people ignorant and docile, but you walk in defiance of every system they have put in place to take complete control. Where they would have the people on their knees, begging the gods for mercy, you stand untouched. You have seen the Judgement and lived. You can call the Strikes and make them your own. At every turn, you defy what they call the punishment of the gods. You prove them wrong. And that gives you the power.”

  Kitieri stared at Bat as the words rushed over her, their implications tangling in her mind like too many threads unraveling simultaneously. Her mouth moved silently, searching for words that would not come as Bat nodded.

  “It is that power that garnered these signatures, Kitieri,” she said. “These people didn’t abandon their Churches and everything they’ve ever known for me. They signed for you.”

  Kitieri felt her face go pale. “I thought you said you’d been helping these people for a long time…”

  “We have,” Bat said. “But there was no way they would have actually abandoned their Churches and risked that illegal status without you—the girl with the lightning. The girl who can defy the gods.”

  Panic surged through Kitieri, and she shook her head so hard that her hair flew in her eyes as she kicked at the blanket over her legs. “No. No. I’m not— No.”

  She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, gasping as her burns dragged along the linen sheets. She tried to stand, only for a firm hand to push her back down, and she glared up at Eriat.

  “This is insane,” she hissed, wrenching her shoulder from Eriat’s grasp. “I will not be responsible for the murder of two thousand people because you made me out to be some hero! I don’t know what lies you told them, but I can’t save anybody! I can’t even save myself, let alone my brother and sister, or anyone else I made the mistake of caring about. When Stil finds you—and he will—this will NOT be my fault!”

  Kitieri pushed off the mattress, flinging her wrapped arm to knock Bat’s hand out of the way as she reached for her. She rushed for the door, bare feet slapping on the coarse wooden boards, and pulled up short as Tira stepped in her path.

  “Tira,” she gasped, fighting the panicked lump in her throat. “Move.”

  “I can’t do that, Officer.” The woman shook her head with an apologetic yet stern expression. Kitieri glanced over her shoulder; no one was coming after her. Bat had stood from her chair, but both she and Eriat waited by the bedside, watching.

  “Tira, please,” Kitieri whispered. “You must see how ridiculous this is. I’m just one person. I’m not a god, or… or…”

  “No, you’re not a god,” Tira replied. “You’re something far more special. You’re a young woman who stood up for equality and fairness, even when her lightning could do her no good. I saw the oran bands this morning. I saw what you wore. I saw the way those other officers watched you like a criminal. Despite what you were going through, you gave me that Gadget because you thought I needed it. You put my needs above your own, and you were willing to bear the consequences for it.”

  Kitieri shook her head, chest heaving with shallow breaths as her mind raced. “I can’t…”

  Tira rested a gentle hand on her arm, barely touching her to avoid the burns.

  “It’s not a hero we need,” she said. “It’s not really even a lightning element we need. It’s a woman who cares enough for the people around her that she’s willing to put her life on the line for them. That’s what we need.”

  The painful lump in Kitieri’s throat won out, and her shoulders jumped with a quiet sob.

  “I know it’s a lot,” Tira whispered, moving in closer. “But you have given thousands of people something that they thought they’d lost forever.”

  Kitieri forced her body to take a deep breath, and met Tira’s blue-green gaze.

  “You gave us hope.”

  Kitieri clenched her jaw. Soft footsteps approached behind her, and she turned to face Bat and Eriat.

  “Tira’s right,” Bat said. “It’s your heart we need. The lightning just helps.”

  When Kitieri did not return her grin, Bat sighed.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Kitieri,” she said. “You’re right to fear Stil. It’s exactly that kind of tyranny that kept me up at night worrying, but there’s a big detail you’re missing here.”

  Kitieri sighed through her nose. “What’s that?”

  “In signing this book,” Bat said, “these people have already made themselves illegal. Right now, every name in here is Churchless. If Stil finds us now, they’re all dead. But there is one name that can fix that.”

  Kitieri folded her arms. “You’re trying to tell me that if I sign that book, they’ll somehow all be safe?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  Bat opened the book’s front cover, revealing one column of names next to a printed series of titles. Kitieri noticed the name Batessa beside Chief Advisor, and Eriat’s name under Advisor, and her eyes scanned upward to the two empty lines on top.

  Head: ___________________

  Baliant: ___________________

  “So which is it?” she asked, still staring at the page.

  “Both.”

  Kitieri lifted her eyes from the page, holding Bat’s gaze for a tense moment.

  “You’re making a mistake,” she said, lifting her bandaged arm. “I can’t even use my lightning anymore. I have no business signing this page.”

  “You don’t need your lightning to save lives right now,” Bat said. “Just your name.”

  “But these
people…” Kitieri glanced down at the book, trying to keep her throat from closing up. “They put their lives on the line because they thought I could do something extraordinary… and I can’t.”

  “You will heal,” Bat said. “Your lightning will return in time, but Kitieri, listen to me. You’ve already done the extraordinary. Like Tira said, you’ve given hope to thousands. Enough for people to stand against the tyranny of their Churches, to stand against the death sentences handed down by the Boards.”

  Kitieri met Bat’s dark eyes. “And what happens when the lightning takes over?” she asked. “You can’t keep them all in a warehouse until the food runs out.”

  A sly grin crossed Bat’s face. “There is a plan in place,” she said. “But I need to know that you’re with us first.”

  Kitieri raised an eyebrow. “What, are you worried I’ll run and tell Stil?”

  “Amadora, more likely.”

  Kitieri scowled. “Fuck her.”

  “You say that, but anything you tell Catarva will get back to her.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Kitieri shook her head. “Catarva knows her Board is corrupt.”

  Bat squinted one eye. “Then why isn’t she doing anything about it?”

  “She can’t. Amadora’s got such a hold on the Board that they’re afraid to—wait.” Kitieri’s eyes grew wide as a new thought exploded into her mind.

  “What?” Bat asked.

  “If I sign this book, I’m a Baliant? A real Baliant?”

  “That’s right,” Bat replied. “Tira’s got your crest all ready.”

  With a wide smile, Tira plunged her hand into her skirt pocket and produced a small package wrapped in soft cloth. Pulling back the corners, she revealed a shining golden ring encircling an open hand. The exact same piece adorned Catarva’s white robes.

  “My son helped make it,” Tira said with pride. “Thanks to the Church of Shirasette, he’s out of those mines and studying with one of the best metal elements in the city, and they made this together for you.”