12-01-2017, 11:09 AM
The trip was slow going. Not just because of the injuries. The higher they went, the more uncertainty and fear grew. Their band was large. Most tunnel dwellers, those higher up anyway, stayed in groups only half their size. Large enough to deter scavengers and any others who might be dangerous- man or otherwise. Small enough that a small warren of tunnel junctions and pools and whatever else that had been scavenged could support them sufficiently. A little village.
The Khylsty were a different matter entirely. They had born and lived and died under a ceiling of rock and tunnels that was miles thick. The air felt compressed and warm. A womb, nurturing and gestating them, until it was time for the Khylsty to be born naked and bloody and screaming at the strange world they would find themselves in.
He understood their fear and even their terror as they ascended through the bowels of hell, the ante-chamber, the birth canal leading to a new life Above. Fear and terror could easily lead to violence and death- his, Valeriya's, Matvei. Any and everyone, if they gave into it.
Armande knew immediately that his role needed to change, at least for the time being. He was now midwife to this people. Their father, as they called him. Moses, leading them through the wilderness and into the promised land.
His first job was to help them make the gradual transition. That meant avoiding the more used tunnels. The trip would take longer, but that was not a bad thing. Time was what was needed. And for that he needed freedom. He walked at their head for a time, observing those few who were near him. The "youngest"- if they could be called that, in comparison to Valeriya and her brother- who'd killed the cherufe when they first departed, could be valuable.
Sasha, Evgeni, Inessa, and Lev listened as he walked and explained what to be alert for. They knew creatures better than anyone. But they had never ventured this high. Knowledge made the the unknown less fear inspiring. He showed them what to look for and what to avoid so their trip would continue ever upward without encountering the larger encampments. It would mean turning back occasionally, but it would be better.
Confident they could lead for a time, Armande turned his attention back to the others. Valeriya was tired. He could see it in her eyes. She was Eye to this people- his Eye- but she was young still. She'd carried this weight for who knew how long. She knew, far more than any of the others, where they were going. He'd seen her scratchings on the walls. She'd engineered their exodus. But now it was her turn to have some respite, if only for a moment. And reassurance.
"You will do well," he told her with confidence, a hand on her shoulder, before nodding to Illarion with respect. She was strong. All the Khylsty were. But they were human too. He walked from person to person, inquiring about their welfare. Many were stoic and silent, while only a handful voiced complaints. He used the last of his first aid equipment to help those whose injuries were most painful. Water was low and so was food. They would only last a few days with rationing. They would not have time to hunt or forage, which meant they needed to get supplies another way. The thought did not please him, but it had to be done.
At times he could only guess as 'night' they took breaks, himself and a few of the others standing guard for watch periods. In the quiet, he could hear the whispered speaking of the people, their concerns. On one of the earliest nights, Valeriya's screams woke him from a daze. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He was tired too. Before he could go to her, though, Illarion was by her side. He watched them silently through the dark shadows for a moment, before taking the watch from Lev.
And then, during the day, they trudged along. He had a job to do. Back and forth, through the people to the head, back to the vanguard he had appointed Matvei and a few others to bring up, he walked. "The world has changed, it is true. The world you know is gone. But the Khylsty were kept safe down here for a reason. God has seen to it that you were vouchsafed and made hard. Be proud!"
At first, his words were just words. But he repeated them in variations, recounting to them the pride he felt in them, the strength he sensed in them, the power of their Eye. He told them they were the chosen people, a holy race. He also explained to them some of the things they would see. It was fanciful, of course. They had no frame of reference. But he hoped the repetition and explanations helped them get a hold on their emotions.
After three or four days, the need for supplies became critical. He took the four Khylsty he'd begun to train that first day on scouting missions. There were very few people this far down but hopefully they had ascended high enough. Fate was with them. A small group, no more than ten or fifteen. Thankfully, not the vile Naga or any other creatures. They looked worn out- far more than normal tunnel people. As if they had been running. Worn out, fearful and bloody. Their attention had been on the warren of tunnels off in one direction. Their surprise was not satisfying- it was never going to be, not in a case like this- but it did make things easier. No one killed but enough injured that they could take what they needed without any further resistance. It wasn't a lot, but it would get them through the next few days. Those people could always head back up and get more supplies from the relief organizations that frequented the tunnels.
Between that and his regular attempts at morale boosting, things started to change. Gradually, people began to latch on to his words. As he expected. Faced with fear, staring into the darkness, standing before the unknowable, the need for purpose became as important as food. His words took on a rhythmic cadence, insistent. A heartbeat. A never ending heartbeat. The change was palpable, that powerful sense of purpose that he now sensed as they walked. Temporary, of course. The old rivalries were still there. Fear would return as well. But the common enemy was before them- survival- and the promise of the future- their hope- in front of them. it united them.
The buzzing in his pack grabbed his attention. His wallet had come to life. Evidently, they had ascended high enough for signal to make it down here. Or perhaps some tunnel dwellers had set up a series of signal repeaters for their own use. At least in this one spot. In any case, he pulled it out and used what information he could to get an idea of where they were. It was easy to lose any sense of location without a frame of reference. The compass in his pack had been very necessary.
It was enough, though. They were moving east. On the surface, it appeared to be toward the red light district. His mouth turned down. Not an auspicious introduction of the surface to these people. This group used sex as a binder, a shared frenzy that tied them closer together. From what he had been able to gather, though, outside of that, they appeared very reserved. Seeing the surface there would shock them. But perhaps that was a good thing. Another tool that would knit them all the more closer, the alienness of it all. It would increase their dependency on him. And very likely, it would cement their belief that they had been chosen and kept safe to save the an unclean world.
This could work. In his mind, he ran through Atharim resources available. There were a few places there he could choose. One was big and isolated enough, just on the edge right where it came up against the industrial district of Moscow. An abandoned office with an underground warehouse. It would fit the Khylsty. It would give them some place familiar to acclimate too. Likely, the safehouse was empty, though he couldn't be completely sure, after the fire. And they'd need weapons. He'd have to see about contacting his Archangels to find out what was going on. Quietly. The killing of Apollyon had likely set the city- indeed the empire- ablaze. That would make things easier. Still, caution was second nature to him.
"We are nearing the end of our journey," he told them. "Only a day or two more and we will reach the surface." A few faces showed hope. A few showed fear. And many more were blank. He stifled irritation. Patience. He would have to be patient with them.
He looked to Valeriya expectantly. She had had her respite. Hopefully, she was ready now to begin shouldering the load again. There was much to do for the both of them.
Edited by Regus, Dec 1 2017, 03:57 PM.
The Khylsty were a different matter entirely. They had born and lived and died under a ceiling of rock and tunnels that was miles thick. The air felt compressed and warm. A womb, nurturing and gestating them, until it was time for the Khylsty to be born naked and bloody and screaming at the strange world they would find themselves in.
He understood their fear and even their terror as they ascended through the bowels of hell, the ante-chamber, the birth canal leading to a new life Above. Fear and terror could easily lead to violence and death- his, Valeriya's, Matvei. Any and everyone, if they gave into it.
Armande knew immediately that his role needed to change, at least for the time being. He was now midwife to this people. Their father, as they called him. Moses, leading them through the wilderness and into the promised land.
His first job was to help them make the gradual transition. That meant avoiding the more used tunnels. The trip would take longer, but that was not a bad thing. Time was what was needed. And for that he needed freedom. He walked at their head for a time, observing those few who were near him. The "youngest"- if they could be called that, in comparison to Valeriya and her brother- who'd killed the cherufe when they first departed, could be valuable.
Sasha, Evgeni, Inessa, and Lev listened as he walked and explained what to be alert for. They knew creatures better than anyone. But they had never ventured this high. Knowledge made the the unknown less fear inspiring. He showed them what to look for and what to avoid so their trip would continue ever upward without encountering the larger encampments. It would mean turning back occasionally, but it would be better.
Confident they could lead for a time, Armande turned his attention back to the others. Valeriya was tired. He could see it in her eyes. She was Eye to this people- his Eye- but she was young still. She'd carried this weight for who knew how long. She knew, far more than any of the others, where they were going. He'd seen her scratchings on the walls. She'd engineered their exodus. But now it was her turn to have some respite, if only for a moment. And reassurance.
"You will do well," he told her with confidence, a hand on her shoulder, before nodding to Illarion with respect. She was strong. All the Khylsty were. But they were human too. He walked from person to person, inquiring about their welfare. Many were stoic and silent, while only a handful voiced complaints. He used the last of his first aid equipment to help those whose injuries were most painful. Water was low and so was food. They would only last a few days with rationing. They would not have time to hunt or forage, which meant they needed to get supplies another way. The thought did not please him, but it had to be done.
At times he could only guess as 'night' they took breaks, himself and a few of the others standing guard for watch periods. In the quiet, he could hear the whispered speaking of the people, their concerns. On one of the earliest nights, Valeriya's screams woke him from a daze. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He was tired too. Before he could go to her, though, Illarion was by her side. He watched them silently through the dark shadows for a moment, before taking the watch from Lev.
And then, during the day, they trudged along. He had a job to do. Back and forth, through the people to the head, back to the vanguard he had appointed Matvei and a few others to bring up, he walked. "The world has changed, it is true. The world you know is gone. But the Khylsty were kept safe down here for a reason. God has seen to it that you were vouchsafed and made hard. Be proud!"
At first, his words were just words. But he repeated them in variations, recounting to them the pride he felt in them, the strength he sensed in them, the power of their Eye. He told them they were the chosen people, a holy race. He also explained to them some of the things they would see. It was fanciful, of course. They had no frame of reference. But he hoped the repetition and explanations helped them get a hold on their emotions.
After three or four days, the need for supplies became critical. He took the four Khylsty he'd begun to train that first day on scouting missions. There were very few people this far down but hopefully they had ascended high enough. Fate was with them. A small group, no more than ten or fifteen. Thankfully, not the vile Naga or any other creatures. They looked worn out- far more than normal tunnel people. As if they had been running. Worn out, fearful and bloody. Their attention had been on the warren of tunnels off in one direction. Their surprise was not satisfying- it was never going to be, not in a case like this- but it did make things easier. No one killed but enough injured that they could take what they needed without any further resistance. It wasn't a lot, but it would get them through the next few days. Those people could always head back up and get more supplies from the relief organizations that frequented the tunnels.
Between that and his regular attempts at morale boosting, things started to change. Gradually, people began to latch on to his words. As he expected. Faced with fear, staring into the darkness, standing before the unknowable, the need for purpose became as important as food. His words took on a rhythmic cadence, insistent. A heartbeat. A never ending heartbeat. The change was palpable, that powerful sense of purpose that he now sensed as they walked. Temporary, of course. The old rivalries were still there. Fear would return as well. But the common enemy was before them- survival- and the promise of the future- their hope- in front of them. it united them.
The buzzing in his pack grabbed his attention. His wallet had come to life. Evidently, they had ascended high enough for signal to make it down here. Or perhaps some tunnel dwellers had set up a series of signal repeaters for their own use. At least in this one spot. In any case, he pulled it out and used what information he could to get an idea of where they were. It was easy to lose any sense of location without a frame of reference. The compass in his pack had been very necessary.
It was enough, though. They were moving east. On the surface, it appeared to be toward the red light district. His mouth turned down. Not an auspicious introduction of the surface to these people. This group used sex as a binder, a shared frenzy that tied them closer together. From what he had been able to gather, though, outside of that, they appeared very reserved. Seeing the surface there would shock them. But perhaps that was a good thing. Another tool that would knit them all the more closer, the alienness of it all. It would increase their dependency on him. And very likely, it would cement their belief that they had been chosen and kept safe to save the an unclean world.
This could work. In his mind, he ran through Atharim resources available. There were a few places there he could choose. One was big and isolated enough, just on the edge right where it came up against the industrial district of Moscow. An abandoned office with an underground warehouse. It would fit the Khylsty. It would give them some place familiar to acclimate too. Likely, the safehouse was empty, though he couldn't be completely sure, after the fire. And they'd need weapons. He'd have to see about contacting his Archangels to find out what was going on. Quietly. The killing of Apollyon had likely set the city- indeed the empire- ablaze. That would make things easier. Still, caution was second nature to him.
"We are nearing the end of our journey," he told them. "Only a day or two more and we will reach the surface." A few faces showed hope. A few showed fear. And many more were blank. He stifled irritation. Patience. He would have to be patient with them.
He looked to Valeriya expectantly. She had had her respite. Hopefully, she was ready now to begin shouldering the load again. There was much to do for the both of them.
Edited by Regus, Dec 1 2017, 03:57 PM.