“They didn’t save me,” she says softly. “I died in that building. I just didn’t know it then.”
There’s a tremendous smash from above. Then a rough shout—Biswal’s voice—saying, “Turyin? Turyin, are you down there?”
“Get the hells out of here, Lalith!” she shouts. “Get away! I’m…I’m going to blow this whole damn house up!” Her hand begins trembling.
“What? Turyin, don’t be insane! I’m coming down!”
“No! No, get the hells out of here! I mean it! I really do!” She shuts her eyes. Tears spill down her cheeks. “It’s the only choice! You’ve got to get your troops out of here!”
“Don’t do anything! Just…just wait!” The tumble of footsteps.
“No!” screams Mulaghesh. “No, don’t come down! Get away, get away!”
He doesn’t stop. She sees muddy boots, and then Biswal slowly descends the stairs, hands raised.
Even in her state his appearance shocks her: it’s clear General Lalith Biswal has just returned from war. His uniform is covered in spattered mud and ash, and there’s a splash of what Mulaghesh knows is blood on his right sleeve. His face is gray and haggard, and he looks years older than when she saw him last. She looks into his eyes, which are small and faded with fatigue, lost amidst pendulous bags. She isn’t sure who’s more haggard and disheartened: the old man on the steps who looks like he just lost a war, or the old woman by the forge with her finger in the ring of a grenade.
“You’ve got to run, Lalith,” she pleads. “You’ve got to run!”
Rada’s large, dark eyes flick back and forth between the two of them.
“What are those voices?” says Biswal. He looks around the room, confused. “Who is talking, saying those things?”
“It doesn’t matter, Lalith, just get out of here!”
Biswal shakes his head and begins walking forward. “No. I won’t. I don’t know why you’re here, Turyin, or what’s going on or why you think you need to do this. But I know Turyin Mulaghesh, and I know she wouldn’t do something like this.”
“It’s the only way!” she says. “These swords she’s made…Lalith, they’re waking up the Voortyashtani dead! The sentinels, Lalith! That’s who’s talking! They were promised an invasion, a war that would end the world, and now they’re going to do it! I’ve got to destroy these swords, Lalith, I’ve got to!”
Biswal glances around at the swords. “I admit, this…is damned suspicious. But we can talk about this, Turyin. You can explain everything to me. Whatever you’re trying to do, this isn’t the way to do it.”
“I can’t explain because there’s no time! I have to destroy them and destroy them now!”
He keeps walking. “I have soldiers here with plenty of firepower. You don’t need to destroy yourself in order to do it. If you explain all this to me then I’d be happy to do it for you.”
“Lalith…Please, you’ve got to run.”
“Put the grenade down, Turyin. Just put it down, nice and easy. There are four soldiers upstairs, and if you pull that pin you won’t just kill me, you’ll kill all of them, too.”
Mulaghesh shuts her eyes. “Damn it…”
“I know you won’t. You’d never kill another soldier. Just drop the grenade. I’m here. This is all over now. Just tell me what’s happening.”
Mulaghesh lets out a long, slow sigh. Her whole body is taut, trembling. Then—very, very slowly—her crooked finger works itself free of the ring.
There’s a thunk as the grenade falls to the floor. Mulaghesh follows shortly after, collapsing to the ground. She sits on the floor with her head between her knees, taking in huge, gasping breaths.
Biswal walks over to her and extends a hand. “Your sidearm, too, Turyin.”
“What?” she says numbly.
“Your carousel. I’ll need it to be sure.”
Without thinking, she unholsters the carousel and hands it over to Biswal. “Now,” he says. “What’s this about these swords?”
“You hear them in your head? Those voices saying those terrible things?”
He nods, his face grim.
“They’re sentinels,” says Mulaghesh. “The voices of sentinels. The sword and the warrior were one, and that’s what ‘thinadeskite’ is—the pulverized swords of sentinels, with traces of their souls still trapped inside. Rada here realized that by remaking the swords she could awaken the dead, lure them into invading and destroying creation, as they were promised so many years ago.”
Biswal stares at her, shocked. “That…That can’t possibly be true. It’s ridiculous! It can’t possibly be true.” He looks at Rada. “Can it?”
Rada’s face is serenely triumphant. “Yes,” she says. “It’s true. And it’s over. I’ve won. You just don’t know it yet.”
“You…You truly believe this?” he asks her.
“I don’t need to believe it,” says Rada. “It’s reality. It’s going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. A god manifested in Bulikov five years ago, General—but what’s going to happen this evening will make that look like a minor skirmish.”
He looks back at Mulaghesh. There’s a queer light in his eyes. “She…She wants to start another Battle of Bulikov?”
“No. Worse. It’ll be a massive invasion.”
“By sentinels—like Zhurgut?”
“Thousands of them,” says Mulaghesh wearily. “More. They’ll come by ship. Sailing across the sea from the City of Blades. That’s how the stories go, and that’s what they were promised.”
“You can’t fight them,” says Rada. “None of you can. You saw what Zhurgut did to the city. They’ll shred you like ribbons. Even your most advanced weaponry can’t stop them.” She smiles beatifically. “I’ve freed them, you see. Trapped over there in their ruined city…I’ve let them out of the dark.”
Biswal is silent. Then, to Mulaghesh: “It’d be a war, then.”
“War on a level we’ve never seen,” says Mulaghesh. “We have to stop it. We have to.”
“It’s too late,” says Rada. “It’s happening. Somewhere out in the sea, two realities are converging. Soon the seas will be dark with longships, and then this entire era will be over.”
Biswal looks to Mulaghesh. “Be honest with me, Turyin. Speak to me as a soldier, as my equal. You really, truly believe what she’s saying will come to pass?”
“I do,” she says. “I’ve been to the City of Blades; I’ve seen the army of waiting dead. That’s why I’m stained red, Lalith, I…I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I know it seems impossible, but it’s the truth. It’ll be battle and war on a scale we’ve never seen before.”
He holds her gaze for a long time, his eyes small and sad, the eyes of a man who has seen much death recently and expects to see more soon. “Battle and war,” he says to himself, “on a scale we’ve never seen before…” Then something hardens in his gaze, something cold and furious, and he says quietly, “I believe you.”