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Authors: Russell Kirkpatrick
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or the Escaignians who started them, but surely we have forgotten our purpose? The Arkhimm has succeeded! We have reclaimed the Jugom Ark and brought it to the heart of Faltha! Now all we need to do—'
'—Is what?' the Haufuth finished for him. 'So we have an arrow that burns people's hands, all except his.' Involuntarily he lifted his own hand and placed it under his armpit, as though sheltering it from pain. 'It was never clear to me how this talisman would suddenly make everyone do as we tell them to.'
Geinor spoke, throat working, his thin voice barely under control. 'How can you doubt? Are you not a true Falthan? This is the Jugom Ark, the Arrow given to unite all true Falthans against the Destroyer, as spoken by the Most High Himself and relayed to us by Bewray of Nemohaim. I can testify personally to its efficacy. My hand was burned, and was instantly healed!'
And you are?' the Haufuth asked, holding his own hand against his chest. Tempers threatened to flare in the heat of this extraordinary morning.
'He is here at our place of lodging,' Indrett said brightly, keen to avert open argument. 'This is where we are staying. We have left the fire behind for the moment. Let us go inside and talk things over there.'
Tanghin strode up and down the platform in the Basement. The fervency of his delivery drew the crowd close to him so that even more of those waiting outside could squeeze in to listen.
Though it was late afternoon, and the nightly meetings did not begin until after sunset, a large crowd gathered.
Tanghin knew they would, after the great fires in the southern districts. To make sure, he spread word that something extraordinary would be happening. The curfew would be strictly enforced tonight, he whispered, so the meeting would begin early. Expecting the blue-robed Hermit, their usual speaker, the crowd was confused by the appearance of the handsome man from the Lore Market branch. Tanghin counted on this, and threw all his skill into the Wordweave he spun. This was a critical moment.
'We have been guilty of placing spiritual interpretations on the prophetic words we have been given,' he cried. 'We have mistakenly thought the fire would fall only in our hearts. Our founder, the Hermit from the north, gave us that interpretation. He had the message straight from the mouth of the Most High, but he failed us in its interpretation. Beware! Do not get caught up in deception! The Most High has come to visit us with fire, but not just a fire within. He has set the city of sin alight! He seeks to purge the Great Harlot of wickedness, of all her evil! He will not work with an unclean vessel. He will have us cleansed!'
The preacher ran a careful eye over the crowd. Despite the force of his words, and the underpinning of the Wordweave, a few people made their way from the Basement, faces set in puzzlement or anger. Troublemakers and wiseacres, he thought. Better off without them.
'Last night I gave my flock from Lore Market a word from the Most High Himself. I prophesied He would raise up a new movement to execute His will. See how I am proved correct! See how the City burns for its sins, as 1 foretold! The anointing has passed from the Hermit, the one who prepared the way, to me, the appointed one. I am here to immerse Instruere in fire, to supervise the spread of the flames
across Faltha, until all the worldly governments are brought down and the greatest Power in the world is installed in their place.
'This new movement is made up of the men and women of Escaigne, whom the Most High caused to be set apart from their worldly fellows, dedicated unto purity. They have been raised up to tear down the ungodly Council of Faltha. Even now, right now as we speak together, they are fighting and dying on our behalf. Outnumbered and ill-equipped, Escaigne continues to challenge the Instruian Guard. They are fighting and dying for us! While we talk, they act!'
He paused for effect, and noticed the usual formulaic chorus
'—Is what?' the Haufuth finished for him. 'So we have an arrow that burns people's hands, all except his.' Involuntarily he lifted his own hand and placed it under his armpit, as though sheltering it from pain. 'It was never clear to me how this talisman would suddenly make everyone do as we tell them to.'
Geinor spoke, throat working, his thin voice barely under control. 'How can you doubt? Are you not a true Falthan? This is the Jugom Ark, the Arrow given to unite all true Falthans against the Destroyer, as spoken by the Most High Himself and relayed to us by Bewray of Nemohaim. I can testify personally to its efficacy. My hand was burned, and was instantly healed!'
And you are?' the Haufuth asked, holding his own hand against his chest. Tempers threatened to flare in the heat of this extraordinary morning.
'He is here at our place of lodging,' Indrett said brightly, keen to avert open argument. 'This is where we are staying. We have left the fire behind for the moment. Let us go inside and talk things over there.'
Tanghin strode up and down the platform in the Basement. The fervency of his delivery drew the crowd close to him so that even more of those waiting outside could squeeze in to listen.
Though it was late afternoon, and the nightly meetings did not begin until after sunset, a large crowd gathered.
Tanghin knew they would, after the great fires in the southern districts. To make sure, he spread word that something extraordinary would be happening. The curfew would be strictly enforced tonight, he whispered, so the meeting would begin early. Expecting the blue-robed Hermit, their usual speaker, the crowd was confused by the appearance of the handsome man from the Lore Market branch. Tanghin counted on this, and threw all his skill into the Wordweave he spun. This was a critical moment.
'We have been guilty of placing spiritual interpretations on the prophetic words we have been given,' he cried. 'We have mistakenly thought the fire would fall only in our hearts. Our founder, the Hermit from the north, gave us that interpretation. He had the message straight from the mouth of the Most High, but he failed us in its interpretation. Beware! Do not get caught up in deception! The Most High has come to visit us with fire, but not just a fire within. He has set the city of sin alight! He seeks to purge the Great Harlot of wickedness, of all her evil! He will not work with an unclean vessel. He will have us cleansed!'
The preacher ran a careful eye over the crowd. Despite the force of his words, and the underpinning of the Wordweave, a few people made their way from the Basement, faces set in puzzlement or anger. Troublemakers and wiseacres, he thought. Better off without them.
'Last night I gave my flock from Lore Market a word from the Most High Himself. I prophesied He would raise up a new movement to execute His will. See how I am proved correct! See how the City burns for its sins, as 1 foretold! The anointing has passed from the Hermit, the one who prepared the way, to me, the appointed one. I am here to immerse Instruere in fire, to supervise the spread of the flames
across Faltha, until all the worldly governments are brought down and the greatest Power in the world is installed in their place.
'This new movement is made up of the men and women of Escaigne, whom the Most High caused to be set apart from their worldly fellows, dedicated unto purity. They have been raised up to tear down the ungodly Council of Faltha. Even now, right now as we speak together, they are fighting and dying on our behalf. Outnumbered and ill-equipped, Escaigne continues to challenge the Instruian Guard. They are fighting and dying for us! While we talk, they act!'
He paused for effect, and noticed the usual formulaic chorus
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