Stone
It wasn't as though they hadn't known the day would come, wasn't as though they could pretend that the the north would stay silent. Still, there had been hope after so many generations. Ill-founded, but hope nonetheless.
“Maybe it won't be that bad.” Sarl Stevenson said, leaning back into his chair to take a long draw on his pipe. Sarl had always been an optimist to the point of idiocy, at least in the eyes of his family. It was apparent that Sarl himself didn't see it the same way, but then, he'd been relying on family handouts for twenty years – his opinion counted for little.
“It will be. Trust me.” Connir Stevenson shot back, not bothering to light his own pipe. His brother focused entirely too much on the finer things in life, not seeming to realize how quickly they could be taken away.
“Oh?” Sarl's face had a broad smile on it as he blew out a smoke-ring. “And how do you know that? Have you lived through an invasion of Stone before?”
“Of course not!” It was difficult to keep his voice under control when talking to the younger Stevenson – Sarl always had a way of winding him up. “No one in Orie has.” Nor could they have – the last Stone invasion was some five hundred years ago, and records from that time were scattered, at best. Few lived, that much was known, and for at least one hundred years the cities built by men had been left untended, allowed to rot as the land reclaimed them. Stone was demanding, but what its ultimate price would be was anyone's guess.
“Exactly my point, dear brother. How do we know that such an invasion is even occurring? I have found that the eyes of scouts are not always reliable, and sometimes what is seen in darkness is given too much weight.”
Connir grit his teeth. He had spoken to all four of the men who had seen Stone moving, and trusted that each one was speaking the truth for fear of his life. Duplicity in a matter such as this would mean their heads, and they seemed far more afraid of what lay beyond the city than the headsman within. They spoke the truth.
“I believe them, Sarl – would you call me a liar?” There was an edge to his tone, one he didn't try to remove. Sarl was rapidly outliving his welcome at the estate, but mother would be furious if Connir cast him onto the street.
“Of course not, brother! I merely wonder at your willingness to accept the veracity of their claims when you have never seen Stone yourself and when it has not moved for half a millenia. Are you so eager for our destruction?”
Jamming his own pipe between his teeth prevented Connir from responding, from saying something he was sure he would regret. His brother had always challenged him this way, and in some circumstances, such opposition could be beneficial. Knowledge of the Books, however, combined with the information brought back by the scouts left no room for error – Sarl could talk until he was blue in the face, but Stone was still coming.
“You understand you are here at my pleasure only, correct?”
Sarl's face darkened. “Of course, brother – and I appreciate your hospitality, but I rather doubt mother would be pleased to hear you -”
Connir cut him off. “I find myself less and less concerned with what mother thinks the more I consider the possibility of our impending doom. I brought you here to help me, Sarl, to find a way to fight Stone before it arrives and destroys us all. If all you want to do is argue about why it isn't so and why Stone isn't really coming, then you and I will part ways here and now, mother be damned.” He gestured sharply with his pipe. “If you want to put that Stevenson mind of yours to good use, let's get started.”
There was a moment of silence as Sarl considered, blue eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “Alright, Connir. What do you need of me?”
“Thank you,” Connir said with genuine relief. His brother was not the most intelligent man in Orie, but had a knack for seeing beyond, for finding solutions that were not immediately apparent. “I need you to listen, Sarl – listen and tell me what you think.”
Sarl nodded, and Connir went on. “Stone is coming, and the scouts make it six days, seven at best, before it arrives at the city gates. The Books don't tell me anything about what it wants or how to stop it, but they're clear about the fact that it drives men and women from their homes and makes our buildings all but uninhabitable. How can we stand against it?”
“Leave now.” His brother's voice was tense.
“What?”
“Leave now, Connir. Leave the city.”
“Are you mad? I can't order the people out of their homes, even with the knowledge Stone is coming. Half wouldn't go, and the other half would rise up!”
“Not the people, Connir – you. And I.” Sarl smiled.
“What?”
“You say Stone destroys cities, well, let's not give it one. You and I will find it, and stop it before it ever comes this far south.”
“You're mad!”
“Hardly,” Sarl said, holding his pipe in his teeth and cracking his knuckles. “Clearly, Stone is moving for a reason, and we just need to find out what it is. It doesn't move very quickly, so you and I should have no problem finding it and discerning what it wants.”
Connir was silent for a moment, and could see Sarl begin to color under his gaze.
“What?” His younger brother said. “I've done what you asked.”
“You have indeed, Sarl – and I appreciate it. We will leave at first light.” He smiled. “Gods, but mother will be angry.”
- D
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