Roderick

Afternoon was waning, and the sun was beginning its slow fall towards the western walls at the edge of Roderick's vision. He wasn't certain, but where the sun would set from his vantage was roughly the direction that all of this had started for him. Where the Golem had smashed down the wall and plunged a hundred square miles of farmland beneath the Gloam like it had been set below the river's height. Where Gwen had pulled everyone up and Valen lead them through the field to the causeway. Where Darius had died fighting to save them.

To Roderick, risking his life to save the town Darius Tulwar was from was just returning the favour. Though calling it a favour cheapened the nobility of the act. And he didn't think of the debt he felt he owed Darius as something he had repaid now. That was a hole in his heart he didn't know how to fill or patch. But he had honoured it, and could help bury the soldier once they reclaimed his body from the Gloam.

So how he stood on a platform, doing the most common, the most normal of things for someone in the City to do. The strangeness of doing something so normal, compared to everything he had lived through in the last day and a half, was uncomfortably alluring. His thoughts were too eager to pretend that the danger was over, that he would just go back home after this, live an uneasy peace with his father, and try to find work.

At the moment, the only thing that kept his thoughts grounded, attached to the reality of the City's terrible danger, were his orders from Sergeant Redgrave to make sure no one wandered off, and keep the playing children off the tracks.

Everything was more demanding in the Rangers. Even waiting around and doing nothing.

"Hey Mack," Roderick said.

The veteran shadow had only just rejoined them. Instead of following the streets as everyone else had, he walked the whole way around the abandoned town to reach the station. He hadn't said why, except perhaps to Cameron, and since he arrived seemed very determined to not look back at the town he had circumvented.

"All those shapes we saw on the walls," Roderick tried to ask. "Is that what happens when a Crafter goes mad? Is that Vincent might have done, if he lost himself to the Craft?"

Mackaroy looked over at him. Didn't meet his eyes, Mack rarely did. But it still felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. "No, kid. What you saw out there was a kindness. Ain't much that hurts more than being burned, but every person you saw on those walls died too quick to have felt it."

"So the Crafter who did it wasn't mad?"

"No. Blinded by tears, sobbing and broken, perhaps. But not mad. The death and damage is too precise. A raging Crafter is like a toddler playing with sandcastles."

"Sandcastles?" Roderick asked, confused. "That a kind of tall sandwich?"

"Right. No one's allowed at the beach, in case the Gloam carries along the river. My parents worked in construction. My sisters and I used to play with the sand they use to make concrete. They'd make castles by adding a bit of water to help the sand hold its shape. Point is, any Crafter who could do that, and do it consistently, wasn't raging when it happened. They'd have demolished a lot more of the town."

"Oh," Roderick said. He thought of how the Crafters fought the Golem, the fire and force that struck against that walking mountain of stone, and failed. He recalled how easy it was for Crafter Saval, and even Crafter Howel, to break the walls when they couldn't do much more than leave scars on their enemy. And not for the first time, he wondered what Crafter Kohl did, to succeed where all that fire and fury had failed. "Hey, Mack?"

"What is it, kid?" Mackaroy asked.

"What do you think our chances are? Of making it through this invasion?"

"Well, I would have pegged our odds as pretty bad last night, right after we saw the Crafters fail," Mackaroy mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But that was before Crafter Kohl managed that ash-stained miracle lying about twelve miles to the north. The Rangers did surprisingly well. Even outnumbered more than hundred to one or more, we rescued people from the field and gave Vincent enough time to make a tunnel through the wall. We give the rest of the Guild time and space to work, and we might see our faces on the Fifth Tapestry."

Roderick had seen the four tapestries that hung in Parliament only once before. A dress parade for the soldiers of the army his father was a part of, and families were invited to witness. As a senior non-commissioned officer, the family had been allowed inside the Agora. Roderick remembered spending most of it time staring at the four massive fabric posters depicting the heroes of those terrible days.

For Roderick it was strange, and more than a little embarrassing, to imagine seeing his own face on the next one. Though, as he could do confirm, the Rangers' white scarves were on every other tapestry.

Mackaroy rolled his shoulders, and did that trick of his where knives seemed to appear and disappear in his hands. "Spit and simmering ash, I'm actually looking forward to the fight. Starting to resent having to wait."

"Dad always said that was almost all of soldiering, just waiting," Roderick said.

"Bit worse than usual during an invasion. Hard to wait when the Golems are still in the City."

Just as Mack finished speaking, Roderick heard a quiet note sound from somewhere to the south. He turned to look, and could see a small gout of steam rising up from the horizon. Roderick squinted, and put his hand over his eyes to block what was left of the day's sun. "I think your waiting is over."

Mackaroy squinted, nodding slowly as the seconds rolled by. Mack seemed to stand up straighter as he looked at the horizon, and when he looked Roderick in the eyes, there was so much warmth he almost wasn't frightened by the old shadow's regard. Almost.

"Train's inbound. Looks like you're right, kid, the wait's over. What are we doing now?"

"Now? There's nothing to fight right now," Roderick protested, looking around.

"Nothing to fight, hopefully. But that doesn't mean we have nothing to do. Right now, time is not on the City's side," Mack explained. "So we can't afford to let the townsfolk take hours arguing over who boards the train first. That's a decision we're going to make for them."

Roderick stared at his hands for a moment, as if he'd find something to explain Mackaroy's statement. "Why me?" he asked.

"You're the authority figure," Mack answered drily. "You're the defender of the City during an invasion. If a crowd of people won't listen to a Ranger right now, who the burning hell should they listen to?"

"What do I tell them?" Roderick asked.

"Tell them who you think should get a ride first, and tell them to bring those people up to the platform. Simple stuff," Mackaroy said. And to emphasize just how much help he was going to be, Mack leaned against a pillar, pulled out a knife, and looked for all the world like he was inspecting the edge for damage.

"Guess I somehow drew the short straw," Roderick grumbled, and he stepped across the platform until he reached the edge. "Excuse me, everyone! There's a train inbound. I'll take the injured, families with young children, and the elderly up on the platform."

He hadn't quite finished speaking when someone jumped up to the platform straight from the ground. Considering it was almost five feet of clearance, Roderick felt it proved the man doing it wasn't elderly or injured. He marched over, prepared to intervene, when the man reached back down and started pulling a little girl, perhaps six at the most, up onto the platform. He reached again, and pulled another child up from the ground.

Remarkably, as a crowd of people began marching up the stairs, or pulling themselves up on the platform, most of them looked as if they were complying with Roderick's request. The crowd on the platform was overwhelmingly elderly or tiny, with parents carrying the smallest on their shoulders. The most common conversations were warnings that the train might need them to stand for most of the trip, along with promises that they would find family members back in the City.

The train drew closer as Roderick worked to try and keep the crowd in some semblance of order. Not that he had to do much, the injured and infirm were guided up to the front, often by small children who encouraged them to take the fore. The semi-coherent medley of movement all around him was — to his surprise — both poignant and surprisingly civil.

And so he could turn and wait, between the train and its soon-to-be passengers, as the train hissed and squealed its way to a stop at the station. The engine pulled slightly past the platform, and the first three cars had ramps laid down the moment the train came to a halt. Roderick stepped forward as the first few passengers off the train were soldiers; hard and cold looking in a way that reminded him more than a little of the Rangers he served with. Just behind them came a few of the medical professionals, lead by an older woman who looked less like a person and more like the statue they'd eventually carve in her honour. With her came two people, a man who's hard, distant gaze reminded Roderick of Mack, and...

And...

Candice. But also not Candice.

Just yesterday, Candice had been a delinquent teenager. Much like him, she was there because he chaffed against the structure her life was built upon, and that life had dumped her in a farm on the fringes of the City in hopes a lot of dirt and sweat would make her a better citizen. She had been impetuous at the work camp, quick to avoid work or even sneak off, and had no qualms about playing with a boy's heart because she was bored. Certainly she was funny, pretty, and had an inkling of how to weaponize those qualities, but she was still easy to wound, quick to cry over other people's pain as well as her own, and rose up in rage when someone abused their authority. She had also been surprisingly timid around Gwen, whom she treated with a degree of deference Roderick suspected even Candice's parents hadn't enjoyed.

That girl was still there, in front of him now. But like seeing a building's foundations before it was built, and seeing it after, there was so much more to her now. Her gentle sympathy had found a purpose, as her glance across the crowd lingered on the same people he and Barleybarrel had put to the fore. Her smile, still wry and somewhat mysterious, had new layers as she seemed to approve of what she saw. And her disarming poise, a weapon in her hand before, had found a new purpose as she moved to begin taking people on the train.

And when her eyes finally met his, her surprised smile was almost worth everything he had lived through since they parted ways. It was a sight that, if he had any sense, he'd remember for the rest of his life.

"Roderick?" she asked. And as if saying his name invited him to do it, he started waking towards her.

He smiled, almost worried he had forgotten how, and awkwardly tried to wave. "Hi," was all he managed to say. A hundred words, a thousand different feelings, all larger and more turbulent than anything he usually lived with, and he tried to express all of it in a single word. Like trying to push the entire river through a single tap.

Knowing what to do with a feeling was always something Candice was better at. She broke into a run, covered the distance between them in a dozen quick steps, and threw herself at him. Roderick didn't know what instinct had him shift his feet to brace himself, but when she collided with him, her arms around his shoulders, it was the only reason she didn't knock him over.

"I," Roderick managed to say as she kissed him. She held him tight, like a child being pulled away from her parents. Like someone who had decided that what he held was hers. He tried to get more words out, because he worried he never would if he didn't manage it now. "Candice, I..."

"You don't need to say anything," Candice said between kisses. "You're here. That's everything."

"No, I need to try," Roderick said. And despite her arms holding him close, despite every part of him wanting to hold her close, he pushed her back to arms length and held her there. "You, you're amazing."

Candice's expression was like looking at a brick wall when you were hoping for a window. It gave away nothing behind it. But she let him continue, which was gift enough. Roderick knew he wouldn't manage to try to say what he wanted to, if she kissed him again. "Just a day. It's been just a day, and you look so different. Seem so different. No, that isn't it. Not different. It's like you've grown, but..."

"Like the weight of the City has fallen on your shoulders, but your legs didn't buckle," Gwen said. Roderick turned to see she was standing nearby, next to the old woman who had just stepped off the train. "Candice, it's a good look for you. That's the short and blunt version of what Roderick will spend the next five minutes trying to say."

"Thanks, ma'am," Roderick said.

"Gwen?" Candice asked. "Burn me, of course it's you. I mean if Roderick made it into the Rangers, of course you'd be there. No offence, hon."

Hon. Honey. A nickname Candice had never used for him. Not a nickname Roderick had ever expected her to use for him. He shook his head, both hating and loving how quickly his life and world had changed.

"No, I get it. Gwen's awesome enough she might have made it on her own. I only got this by clinging to Sergeant Redgrave's coattails," Roderick said, holding the end of his scarf up.

"The only people who've killed more Gloamtaken than you wear that same scarf," Gwen said, and there was something in her tone that made him stand up straighter. Candice's eyes widened a little, and she looked him up and down thoughtfully.

"Candice, I," Roderick began to say. "I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. This train is for the people who need it most. But I'll look for you, as soon as I can."

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Candice asked. She looked around, and nodded. "No, you're right. I see it."

Lieutenant Volenski stepped over, gave Roderick and Candice only a single, quick glance, and turned back to the old woman who came with the train. "Miss Eridwen, wasn't it? Under the circumstances, would you be willing to take a platoon of my people with you? At least as far as Godichelli's wall."

The old woman nodded, and smiled at Candice. Roderick didn't know it was possible to be out of practice for something like a smile. "I'll make room. I'm sure the army's best know how to stay out from underfoot."

Candice eyed the train with a strangely sly smile. Her eyes lingered on a single car, about halfway down. It was an expression the old woman noticed faster than even Roderick did.

"No." Miss Eridwen said.

"What?" Candice asked.

"You may not ask to go check the supplies in the surgical car. I'm not leaving people on this platform just because you want some privacy," Miss Eridwen said. "The next train is twenty minutes away, and I'd rather be long gone before some over-eager engineer forgets how long it takes to stop."