So I’ve hit the point where any more work on The Night of Fallen Gods is just rearranging deck chairs. So, to celebrate, I am going to post the Prologue here! If it gets some traction, I might post further chapters and build something of a free preview of the full novel.
So here you go, enjoy!
~~~
Prologue
In the 4,850th year of the Alliance, at the end of a particularly dry summer, dawn broke on the strangest sight Millet the farmer would witness in his lifetime.
It had long been his practice to check the fence around his fields after morning chores so he could gaze out at the horizon as the sun rose. And now as the first rays of morning light touched the plains around his farm instead of a twisting sea of tall grass all he could see were people. He was not an educated man, but knew enough of his numbers to know there were more people than he had seen in all his years combined.
As he stood staring in a bemused sort of concern, one of his sons rode up on the old draft horse they used to pull the plow in fall. “Da, Ma’s got breakfast ready!”
“Aye, boy, no need to shout,” Still staring out past his fence, he turned and spat on the ground. “Might want to take ol’ Bess there and ride into town. Get the Mayor, aye might just want to get everybody important while you’re at it.”
“Da,” his son’s eyes swept back and forth over the horizon, “ar-are those people out there?”
“Aye boy that they are,” Millet scratched at yesterday’s growth of beard, “and I think they might be headed this way.”
~~~
First Gate Captain Benac dismounted from the wyvern as gracefully as he could, staring out over the western plains in tightly controlled shock. He’d read the reports but refused to believe them. Seeing the scene now, he was forced to admit they had likely been conservative. Men and women milling about between white tents as far as the eye could see. One million of them was no longer a flight of fancy. Two million seemed disastrously plausible. The detail that they’d all been naked on discovery was immaterial.
He stumbled out of the landing zone and a guardswoman with a Third Ring badge on her chest flagged him down.
“Gate Captain Benac,” she snapped off a harried little salute. “Been expecting you. Good flight coming in?”
He straightened his own uniform before making a crisper salute back to her. “No flight is a good flight, I like my boots on the ground as the Nine intended. Where are we headed?”
“Main pavilion sir, follow me.” She turned and descended into the sea of tents.
They didn’t get very far before reaching an intersection blocked by a group of haggard looking people following a guardsman holding a small pennant over his head. They were wearing ill fitting if serviceable garments that were standard relief issue. “Well,” he said to his guide, “they certainly look human enough for government work.”
“Yes, sir,” the Guardswoman said tightly. As the intersection cleared, she continued onward, Benac a half step behind her.
How all these people had descended on a few small farming villages and not leveled them had to be a miracle.There was little enough out this far from the Tower City and the strangers had swept over fields like locusts.
No, locusts would have left stalks behind after eating the wheat. These people had left nothing but bare dirt.
Thankfully small hamlets like these set their roots down deep, staying put for generation after generation. House Gods were common here, and the villages had a few Minor Gods between them. The reports said that these local deities had kept their charges safe, if not the crops and a few unoccupied buildings.
And by the time they had stripped the land bare, help arrived just in time to make things worse. The first wave of aid arrived on wyvern back like the Captain, with a few Dragons in tow to haul supplies and gear. Apparently at the sight of this, the people had all lost what little must have been left of their minds. Most simply fell to the ground wailing, others ran in whatever direction they happened to be facing. Some God or another must have taken pity on them and miraculously kept anyone from dying in a stampede or crush.
And then came the additional panic over the Elves and Wyldkin, which were apparently as terrifying to these people as Dragons the size of buildings. Rounding them all up had taken weeks and more than a few bruises and broken bones on both sides.
But eventually everyone was corralled, tents and pavilions set up, and clothes finally put on. Now only Humans were allowed within a mile of the disaster zone out of an abundance of not wanting the screaming to start again.
He followed his guide deeper into the city sized camp. They made a few turns that got him mildly lost before coming to a clear area the the base of what could charitably be called a hill. In the center was a white tent larger than any of the surrounding structures with constant streams of guardsmen coming and going from entrances on every side. Inside, more uniformed men and women, mostly from the Third Ring, waited in front of tables piled with supplies or papers for their next assignment. Scribes were absolutely everywhere, writing and sorting pages or looking over supply ledgers. Quartermasters dotted the crowd, directing things here or there and arguing discreetly about some minutia of their nearly impossible task.
His guide led him through the commotion to a long table at the far end of the tent. Most of one side was taken up by a large crystal suspended in a slowly revolving apparatus being poked and prodded by a man in flowing blue robes. The other side was taken up by a few stacks of paper being sorted through by a mousy young woman in a well cut brown dress.
Neither looked up as Benac sat down between them. “Alright, what progress do we have? The last report I read was three days ago.”
The scribe on his right handed him a sheaf of papers and his guide spoke from over his shoulder. “We’re still working on a final count, the last of the people who scattered were only brought in last night. As of now we’re at just over two million.”
Integris help them, what were they supposed to do with that many people? “Any progress on communication?”
The mage to his left answered without looking up from the device their hands hovered over. “We have a few devices like this one up and running in command posts throughout the camp. They’re all ancient and we’re only half sure we’re using them right, but it’s getting the job done.”
He flipped through the pages in his hands. “Says here they’ve elected some kind of representative?” At least flying out to the ass end of the Alliance wouldn’t be an entire waste of time.
“Waiting outside.” Answered the scribe, easing back into her chair and checking her quills and ink. “These folk all react negatively whenever we mess with anything magic around them, so we figured it’d be best to have him come in once everything was in place.”
“Good idea.” He grunted, thumbing through the rest of the report. Most of it was just numbers and maps. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Not immediately, sir.” Said his guide. “Although, if you’ll allow me, I’d prefer to wait outside.”
He tossed his report back onto the scribes pile and turned around, eyebrow raised.
The Guardswoman looked away, cheeks coloring. “These people, they don’t listen to the female guardsmen like they should. Make a lot of us uncomfortable. I’d rather not be a distraction, sir.” Her tone was hot and angry.
Benac grunted neutrally in response, and the guardswoman left. He looked around to see another guardsman standing to the side of a tent flap past the end of the table. He checked on the mage again, got a half hearted thumbs up, and chucked his chin up towards the guardsman to bring their guest in.
After a moment he returned leading a trio of men. Two flanked the third, and they all looked to be towards the tail end of middle age. The one leading them was nondescript; brown hair gone thin and forming a ring around the top of his head, a close cropped beard hugging his chin, and plain if slightly pudgy features. He walked to the table with authority and took his seat like a Sovereign taking a throne, not an ostensible beggar in a precarious camp chair. His two… attendants? His attendants remained standing behind him on either side, eyes downcast and hands clasped before them.
Benac looked to the mage and his device, and received a nod of confirmation. “My name,” he said, slowly so as to make sure every word was clear, “is First Gate Captain Benac. May I ask yours?”
The crystal lit up and shone a series of patterns across the table in front of the other man. They must have meant something to him because after they disappeared the man looked up and said in a clear baritone voice, “Mihi nomen est Johnathan. Tu hic praees?”
Again the crystal played light across the table, this time letters Benac could read. “My name is Johnathan. You are in charge here?”
He smiled ruefully. “I am a representative of the Sovereign of the Tower City. I am here to convey their welcome and return with any requests you may have. I understand things may be very different for you here, and that the last few weeks have been stressful for you, but rest assured, we wish your people no harm.”
Johnathan nodded gravely. “Things have been very strange indeed. I can only assume we have come to another plane or world… There are things and creatures here that are out of story books from our home. Is there any way for us to return?”
He’d been dreading this question. “They say through the Gods all things are possible, but while we have records of people from other worlds coming to ours, we have no such records of ever being able to return them. For better or worse, this is your new home now.”
Johnathan turned to his companions and Benac assumed translated what he’d said. The three had a conversation that started hushed but steadily grew more heated. After more back and forth, Johnathan raised his voice above the other two, pounded his fist on the table, and the crystal caught the last words, “It is as God wills it!”
The other two dropped their eyes again, and clasped their hands in front of their chests. Johnathan turned back to face across the table and made a quick gesture from his forehead to his sternum, and then from his left shoulder to his right. “My apologies Captain, as you said, we find ourselves in stressful times.”
Benac spread his hands and smiled with a few more teeth in it this time, praying to the Gods the expression translated. “I understand completely. This is going to be a long process, and today is just the first step. I will answer whatever questions you have, and then we can adjourn for a day or two for you to confer with your people.”
Johnathan nodded graciously and gave a weary smile of his own. He met Benac’s eyes for the first time, and the Captain couldn’t help not liking something in the other man’s gaze. It was gone before he could place it and Johnathan said, “If you could, please start with whatever basics you think we need to know.”
~~~
Lady Adana, First of her Name, Dragon Chosen, Sovereign Justicier, Lady of the Tower City, stared at her most trusted Gate Captain in disbelief.
“By hand?” She asked. “They want an entire city, built by hand?”
They sat in the Captain’s office above the Ninth Ring barracks, Benac having just returned from the otherworlder’s camp. “To be fair my lady, “ his tone was dry, “only half of that request is unreasonable. There’s a damn lot of them. And they said they’d do it themselves if necessary, they just need the materials. Apparently where they’re from, they have single buildings to rival the Tower City. Even if that’s an exaggeration, I had one of our engineers speak to some of them and they’ve got people who know construction.”
She very much believed that these otherworlders were exaggerating, if only out of ignorance. Benac had tried to get their spokesperson to return with him to the Tower City, but the man had been apoplectic with the suggestion once he learned they would have to fly on wyvernback. “Knowledgable or not, that will take decades even with the help we give them.”
Benac heaved a sigh and looked up to the ceiling. “Add a few more for the fact that they won’t let anyone who isn’t human touch the process. The crystal couldn’t exactly make sense of everything he was calling the Elves and Wyldkin he’d seen, but I can’t imagine any of it was very nice. Gods forbid he ever sees a dwarf.”
“So you’d really have me take this ‘half reasonable’ request from the guilds and tell them it’s a good idea?”
“Yes.” Benac said without hesitation. “I spent the last few months with these people and if you don’t mind my saying so my lady, they are bat shit crazy. Johnathan seemed normal more often than not, but the rest of them,” he shook his head before rubbing at his temples with both hands, “shock doesn’t explain it. Have you read any books about otherworlders before? Not the street fictions, the ones the historians wrote?”
She nodded. “Both, if I’m honest.” The street fiction novels about harrowing misadventures of rogues and heroes from other worlds had been some of her favorites as a girl, and the true stories that inspired them were equally compelling as an adult. “What about them?”
Benac stood and started pacing. “Well in the fictions the otherworlder speaks our language already, and in the histories they at least learn out of necessity. These people seemed,” his frustrated chuckle sounded more than a little manic around the edges, “allergic to the concept. I can’t explain it properly, but even Johnathan, after months of dealing with me for hours a day, refused to remember a single word I tried to teach him. I’d point to a thing, say ‘this the word for rock’ or ‘tree’ or whatever happened to be nearby and he’d just nod and keep going like I’d never said a word. When I thought I’d picked up a bit of his and tried it, he left the meeting without a word and refused to meet with me again until I swore not to try again.”
Benac continued his pacing, his voice growing harsh, “It was like that for everything. I could talk to Jonathan or any of his men about Alliance practices or Law until I was blue in the face, and it just sailed in one ear and out the other. Not a single meal went by without some complaint about the food, or a walk of the camp without them lamenting the clothes we’d given them. We started giving them bolts of cloth for them to make clothes, the things they’d wear!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Benac you’ve never been a prude, they couldn’t have been that scandalous?”
“The exact opposite!” He threw himself back into his chair. “Men covered from collar to toe, women with only their face showing, no matter the weather.” He ran a hand down his face and blew out his breath. “I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel when I mentioned you were a woman.”
“Why would my being a woman matter in the slightest?” She asked, half amused, half baffled.
“Search me.” Benac patted down his coat for effect. “You’d think women were an entirely different species by how Jonathan talked about them. It’s no wonder all the female guards avoided having to do anything front facing with these people.”
“Does it have to do with this new God they worship?” She did not know if that would be better or worse, given what Benac had told her so far.
“What didn’t have to do with their God?” His chuckle was now fully manic. “‘The Redeemer’ or ‘Savior’, the translators were never consistent, has his hand in every single part of these people’s lives. What to wear, what to eat, when to eat it. A prayer for everything too. But only the one God mind. When I left, Johnathan said ‘God go with you’. When I said back to him ‘May Rove guide your steps’, I swear to you the man was about to hit me.”
She shook her head. Benac was one of her most level headed advisors. If he was getting this worked up, she knew he wasn’t telling her the half of it. “So they won’t integrate.”
“I can’t say for sure all won’t, there are a lot of them, but not a single one I saw or spoke to the entire time I was there, no. They’d sooner keel over dead.”
She drew in a deep breath and took her time letting it back out again. She wasn’t fully convinced, but was headed in that direction. “And where would we put this city, pray tell?”
Benac went over to his desk and returned with a map. “Here.” He said, spreading it out and jabbing his finger into a spot on the southern coast of the Dagger Sea. “We’ve got enough port towns up the northern coast, and it’s not that far from where they all arrived so getting them there on foot won’t be too difficult. The plains are empty for a reason, there’s nothing out there worth having, but the land’s good enough for farming with a bit of effort. We can even magically seed the land and just not tell the bastards. Once the city is mostly built and they can feed themselves, let them. If they learn to play nice over time, fine. But until then, keep them out of sight and out of mind in the backwaters.”
Adana looked at the map, back to Benac, and let out another sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
~~~
And that’s the groundwork for the story laid out. Hopefully an enticing start.
-CG Stewart
Night of Fallen Gods 
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