Season 1: Episode 6 – The Summoning

This series contains mature themes and is intended for adult listeners.

>Begin Porta Cor imprint.<

I thought the worst thing I’d done was tell the truth.

I was wrong.

The worst thing I did was believe truth would save us.

The noise never faded. By morning, violence had become ordinary.

Shouting in the streets. Strange explosion sounds. Mallaidh’s broadcasts clashed with desperate messages coming from what Anturians were left in Tukdurin.

I walked through the streets of Teithia that I no longer recognized. I saw groups of humans clustered together in side roads or peeking out from behind doorways.

I saw our militia and guards, as well as some vigilante Anturian groups, marching through the streets with weapons visible as I passed through the various neighborhoods.

A few doors on severely damaged houses had strange markings. I wasn’t sure if they were human-made markings or Anturian.

I looked up as I heard someone a few streets over yell, “They’re gathering in market square!” followed by the sound of many running feet heading that way.

I passed by the gardening shop that I had taken Afanen to not so long ago, and the window was broken. A group of humans was inside, grabbing gardening supplies and evaluating them as if they were weapons. They paused to look up at me as I passed, but did not think to assault me even as they watched me warily. Their eyes were haunted.

I jumped in surprise as someone grabbed my arm from the other side and saw the woman who owned the store looking at me angrily. “You did this! Everything is ruined because of you!”

I started to try to break free from her grasp and respond when Dahlfia appeared between the shop owner and me, pried the woman’s hands from my arm, and ushered me further down the street. Her own knives were strapped visibly around her waist, letting them all know she was prepared.

The shop owner yelled back at me, “Fix it!”

Dahlfia stepped close to me and whispered, “It’s obviously not contained but spreading.”

“How fast?” I asked her, wanting to understand the scope.

“Three neighborhoods down by early this morning.” She answered and moved me along the street a little faster.

As we moved toward the Council Hall, we received yet another public broadcast, this one from Mallaidh and Murithir.  Dahlfia and I stayed vigilant to our surroundings as we walked and listened.

“Extremists have exploited recent events. Radicalized humans are spreading false narratives. No single councilor speaks for the entire council. We are declaring temporary emergency authority over all communities. We have sunset curfews effective immediately. We are gathering up and detaining all humans for their safety and protection. Public broadcasts now require majority council approval before being sent.”

Murithir’s voice followed.

“The councilors support Mallaidh’s decisive and purposeful leadership in this crisis.”

At this moment, we ran across a nervous Oswalt in the streets, looking like he was running for his life. He seemed relieved to see us and fell in step with us as we walked.

“She’s positioning you as the enemy.” He told me once he joined us.

“I know.”

Mallaidh’s voice returned to finish the broadcast:

“Citizens are advised to report any suspicious activity, particularly reckless communication that destabilizes public order.”

Well. That would be me, then.

We walked in silence for a moment, and then Oswalt said, “Can you help me get in to see Elian? I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Sure, we can stop by the detainment center before the council hall.”

We got into the main office, and I asked for an audience with Elian. The guards there looked at me and, without missing a beat, said, “Emergency council order. No unauthorized visits.”

I lifted an eyebrow at the guard. “I am still a sitting councilor.”

He looked uncomfortable and shifted slightly in his stance, “Yes. The order was specific.” He replied.

I knew what that meant, too, and Dahlfia and I exchanged a look.

I turned to Oswalt, “Let’s go to the office, and I will see what I can do.”

Later, I obtained Oswalt’s permission to visit Elian. He went there while Dahlfia and I sat in my office, going over notes and talking.

He came back and joined us about a half hour later.

“How did it go?” I asked him when he came back into my office and closed the door behind him.

“Elian was healing, but they said he was refusing to name Siriolaf’s attacker. I asked if he was protecting him. And he said that the attacker was afraid. All humans were afraid. If he names the attacker, he names them all.” Oswalt looked down, defeated. “I don’t think this will end with containment.” He whispered.

Dahlfia stood up and rested her hands on the hilts of her blades at either side of her, “I’m with you, Bryn, whatever comes our way.”

Oswalt looked up, “I cannot fight, but I am with you, too, Bryn.”

I exhaled deeply, “You both should stay neutral. Mallaidh might…”

Dahlfia interrupted me, “Do anything worse to our world than what has already happened? I’ve never been neutral.”

Oswalt nodded in agreement, though less confident in appearance than Dahlfia.

A knock at the door interrupted us, and Dahlfia, with one hand on the hilt, slowly opened it with the other, revealing Tynaref standing there, looking worried, down the hallway and into the office.

Dahlfia let her step in but kept a close eye on her as she approached. “Bryn, you should leave Teithia.  Tonight.”

I leaned back in my chair at my desk and lifted my hands into the air, “And go where?”

She looked back at the door and then back to me, “Anywhere that isn’t here when the guards come for you. They’re gathering in Market Square now as a show of solidarity. Use this time to make your plans.” She urged me, and then she slipped out of my office and down the hall.

“A council gathering in the square without us?” Dahlfia smirked.

“Maybe we should go listen,” I added, standing up. “Stay here, Oswalt. Don’t let anyone in unless it’s us.”

Dahlfia and I put on cloaks. It was raining lightly now, so we would not look suspicious milling out in the square with our hoods up.

We got into the square and sure enough, the council, or at least those that side with Mallaidh, were all gathered there, surrounded by guards fully armed. To her right, instead of me, stood Murithir, followed by Tynaref, who looked like she wished she were anywhere else.

Mallaidh was waving Councilor Hynfyd up to the front, who smiled and waved to the Anturians gathered, “In this time of crisis, I came here from Tukdurin to stand with Mallaidh. We need strength, not debate.”

Dahlfia whispered, “Funny. Hynfyd didn’t mention Tukdurin burned.”

Tynaref’s eyes found me suddenly and then lowered to the ground. She knew that truth too, and still she stayed silent.

We went back for Oswalt, and Dahlfia and I walked him home before parting ways to our own homes.

Pensaer was cooking dinner for us, and Afanen was curled up on my lap, with my arms around her, as I sat on the couch.

Afanen asked, “Why are the neighbors shouting?”

Pensaer answered, “They’re upset, but it will settle.”

Afanen tilted her head slightly, “Are we safe?” She fingered the necklace that Kylah made for her.

My eyes met Pensaer’s for a moment, and I swallowed hard and said, “Yes.”

Afanen grasped her little fingers around the pendant of the necklace a little tighter.

After a few moments, Afanen left to get a book from her room.

Pensaer asked, “Should we leave?”

“No, not yet. If I leave, she wins.”

She stared at me a moment, “And if we stay?”

I didn’t have an answer.

After dinner, Pensaer was putting Afanen to bed when someone knocked on my door. I, like Dahlfia, went around armed these days, but not quite as audacious about it as Dahlfia. My knives were hidden in my clothes. I slipped my hand into my sleeve to grab the hilt as I scanned through the screen at my door to see who was on the other side.

It was Kylah, so I opened the door. Kylah was out of breath. “I need to talk to you, Bryn.”

“It’s after curfew, Kylah. If they catch you…”

“I know. I was careful.” She said, looking behind her. I disarmed the door, opened it just enough to let her slip inside, then reengaged the locks.

She was all wet from the rain still falling outside, “Mallaidh’s calling an emergency peace council meeting tomorrow. She’s framing it as reconciliation with you.”

I saw the hard look in her violet eyes, “And you think it’s a trap?”

“I KNOW it’s a trap. She’s consolidating all the guards and neighborhood militia. Loyalists only. She’s preparing for something big.” She informed me.

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“I listen. I watch. I move through places people don’t expect me to be.”

 “You’re good at this.”

“I must be. Look, don’t go to that meeting, Bryn.” She urged me.

“If I don’t go, who does?”

“If you go, there might not be anyone left to stand up for what’s right, Bryn.”

“I know.”

The next morning, Dahlfia and Oswalt both joined me for breakfast when the Porta Cor broadcast arrived. “You are invited to an Emergency Peace Council Meeting. Unity and reconciliation are in the interest of public safety. Please join us.”

We all stared at each other after receiving the invitation.

“Let’s not go, Bryn.” Begged Oswalt.

“If we don’t…” I started.

“She may call us cowards, but we’ll still be alive.” He added nervously.

“You, me, Dahlfia, anyone who stood with us, we’ll be branded conspirators. Arrested. Or worse,” I responded.

Dahlfia stood up and patted her knives, “I’m definitely going with you.”

“Maybe the two of you should stay here,” I suggested, but Dahlfia was shaking her head no before I even finished the suggestion. “Not negotiable.”

Oswalt swallowed, “I’m going too, then.”

“If the council ends today, it won’t be because we hid.”

The night before, I asked Kylah to bring her family to our house. I knew I wouldn’t be there the next day. Someone needed to be. Once she arrived with her family, Dahlfia, Oswalt, and I walked out of my house and down the street to the Council Hall.

In the halls, there were no clerks. No scribes. No messengers. The three of us walked, Dahlfia at my side, and Oswalt slightly trailing, until we got to the main chamber’s wooden doors. The guards opened them for us upon our arrival, and the doors made an echoing sound in the quiet chamber on the other side.

I heard murmurs from the councilors gathered there and saw many hands going into sleeves or pockets as if they were also armed. Some looked at us with disdain. Others with pride, but most looked tense and nervous.

I might not walk out.

I went anyway.

>End Porta Cor imprint.<