Future?

Zal sits on the temple steps, staring out across the vibrant temple courtyard and making a roll of katal and haze. This little garden must be the only thriving path of soil in Korben. Somehow, a hundred Length from the blackwater of the river, a patch of wildflowers endures here, undisturbed by the black vines of blight creeping over the low stone wall. The blight taunts this sanctuary, but the green ivy covering the wooden arch over the gate looks down on it, thriving in the bright noonday sun. Is this the work of the Goddess? No, the tireless effort of the priest-apprentice.

Looking up from the purple and red mountain flowers, Zal lays back on the porch to stare up at Razha--leaning on a white pillar, wrapped in her long black coat, even in this heat. Her brown eyes look so distant, staring out at some unseen horizon beyond the mountains, beyond the sky. Even outfitted as an instrument of death, with her black rifle and blades and alchemical powders, she looks more beautiful than any flower in this garden. Razha glances down at Nadia next to her--she quickly turns her eyes away.

Zal lights their roll and exhales a cloud of smoke. They look over at Nadia, with brown eyes as intense and distant as Razha’s, black skin almost matching her black leather jacket. “Do you ever think about what you’re gonna do when it’s over?” Zal says.

Nadia stims with her blade, balancing it on her finger by the hilt. “Over?”

“You know, when we win this war, right? Will you want to go back to Sabaku?” Zal says.

“Oh, I don’t know. I would love to, I would love to go back and help rebuild my own country. But these mountains have become a home to me too, I don’t know if I could just leave Zintaia so easily. Leaving one home was hard enough.” She looks back up at Razha. “Maybe I would just like to marry a nice girl and settle down in the mountains. What about you Zal?”

“I expect I’ll keep traveling. Not like this, you know, just for fun, like before. Maybe I’ll sneak across the ocean and see my grandparents’ hometown in Ara. Then I could go to Sabaku, or Janika, or even up to the Norra lands, though it would have to be during summer.” They inhale more of their aromatic smoke. “You have any plans, Razh?”

Razha breathes deep and exhales with a sigh. “Haven’t really given it much thought. Don’t really expect to live to see it.”

“But what if you do live? There’s got to be something you’re living for,” Zal says.

“In my wildest dreams...a little house would be nice, with a little garden like this. Just lay down my arms and use alchemy to help people instead. That’s all I ever wanted, I guess. Don’t know about marriage or romance, though,” Razha says.

Nadia turns her eyes back to the streets of Korben below and sees a young man stumbling up the shale stairway, balancing two buckets of water on a pole across his shoulders--faltering, on unsteady steps. She gets up and walks toward the garden gate. Razha leave her rifle leaning on the temple wall and follows, along with Zal, through the iron gate and under the wooden arch.

He must be Kogai like Razha, but a little different. Maybe half-Kogai. He looks about Nadia’s age, twenty something, strong as any worker in the town. But his breathing is short and his face shows struggle. He doesn’t even see Razha and Zal until they lift up the buckets and take the weight off of him. As his hand lifts up with the burden eased, his long sleeve slides backward on his arm, revealing the black veins on his wrist, standing out against his brown skin.

“Oh, y’all don’t gotta trouble yourselves with--” he says.

“It’s fine, just my act of solidarity for today,” Razha says. “Besides, it ain’t in me to let my people struggle alone.”

“Well, appreciated--” He looks up and freezes as he notices the knives and combat gear strapped to Razha’s belt. As he looks further up to see the grey scarf around her neck, just like the bandanas around Nadia and Zal’s, he relaxes.

“Don’t worry, we are here to help,” Nadia says.

“Are you bringing this water to your house?” Zal says. “We’ll carry it.”

“To the temple, actually, it’s for my little brother,” he says.

“He’s at the clinic, then? I’m sorry,” Razha says.

“He needs this for his fever. I had to pay triple for an extra water ration.” He takes the pole from his shoulders and leans on it like a walking stick.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” Razha says. “You better drink some of this clearwater too.”

“I was too sick to work today, so I can’t afford any for myself...”

“If you overexert yourself, you’ll be in no shape to help him at all,” Razha says.

“Let’s bring this inside, I’m sure he’ll share it with you,” Zal says.

He follows them. “Thank you, um...”

“Zal Koronova,” they say. “Helbender Collective.”

“I thought you must be more of the Koronovas.”

“Razha Koronova, Helbender Collective.”

“Nadia Koronova, Helbender Collective.”

“I’m Tollin Elzan, uh, Black River Industrial Union,” he says.

They walk with him up the steps, through the garden, to the temple entrance--an ornate wooden double door carved with the runes of Pan and Kin, representing the dichotomy of freedom and protection, according to the Theanists--as if the two should be separate, let alone opposing. She opens the heavy doors and the four of them enter.

A girl in a white priestly robe greets them. Nadia almost doesn’t recognize her, but the grey bandana around her neck gives her away--the collective’s medic Filla, looking quite out of place in a Thean temple.

“Hi comrades!” Filla says. “I mean...” She composes her posture and bows to them. “Welcome to the most holiest temple of our gracious Goddess Thea, how may I lawfully serve you today? Would you like to confess your transgressions against Thea’s holy law?”

“Sure, I have some good ones,” Zal says.

“Don’t encourage her,” says the boy emerging from behind a curtain on the other side of the room, priest-apprentice Nisho, the temple’s overseer. The vestments clearly suit him better, and he moves with the elegance of a priest. He glances Tollin’s way, and the worker’s face lights up momentarily before turning back to concern.

“Welcome back, Koronovas,” Nisho says. “Tollin, he’s still right over there where you left him.”

Tollin hurries across the room to one of the cots on the far wall. Pointing with two fingers on each hand, he signs for Razha and Zal to hurry. Once they enter the area cordoned off by curtains, he takes a bucket from Zal’s hands and picks up the clay cup by the bed.

A child lies there, no more than ten, with signs of blight far more advanced than Tollin’s. The dark veins cover much of his body already, clearly visible through his brown skin. He opens his eyes and tries to speak, but he barely makes a sound.

“Drink this, Kaz.” He stabilizes his brother’s shaking hands and puts the cup in between them. He reaches behind him and helps him sit up a bit, and helps him guide the cup up to his face. He manages to drink a little. “You have to finish it. You need to drink as much clearwater as you can.”

Nisho and Filla enter the makeshift room, and Tollin looks up at Nisho almost smiling, until Kaz’s coughing turns his attention back. Kaz gives the empty cup back with shaking hands. Tollin puts his hand on his forehead as he closes his eyes and falls asleep again.

Nisho kneels down next to Tollin and puts his hand on his shoulder. Tollin turns and throws his arms around him, burying his face in his chest.

“Nish, I--” he says in a breaking voice.

Nisho puts his arm around him and gently runs his other hand down the back of his head through his short black hair. “Sorry Tollin, I’m doing all I can. So are the medics.”

“I know, I know.” He looks up into Nisho’s brown eyes.

The priest-apprentice wipes tears from the worker’s cheek with the sleeve of his robe. “You have to take care of yourself too. Have you had clearwater today?”

“I brought it for Kaz.”

“Tollin, drink some water. Or I’ll get the Helbender Collective here to make you,” Nisho says.

“We’ll do it,” Zal says.

Nisho lets go of him and fills up a cup of water from the bucket. “Drink.”

“Fine, if it’s a Koronova’s order.” Tollin takes it and drinks it, downing the entire cup with some desperation. Nisho touches his cheek with his fingers and looks into his eyes, then grabs the back of his head and pulls him closer to kiss him. “Thank you for taking care of yourself.”

“Nish, shouldn’t we--”

“Relax, look who we’re in the company of. They’re like us, right?” He turns to look at the others.

Nadia reaches and grabs the collar of Razha’s coat and pulls her down toward her. She brings their lips together, they kiss deeply for several seconds.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d say y’all’re in safe company,” Zal says.

Razha breaks her face away but keeps her arm around Nadia. “We’d never, ever let anything happen to y’all.”

Nisho stands up and pulls Tollin to his feet, keeping hold of his hand. “Then you should tell this one not to go back to work.”

“You’re in no shape to be working in a refinery!” Filla says.

“I have to. Since my father died, I’m the only one who can work in my family. He didn’t have much to leave us, and it’s barely enough just for my mother to eat.”

“Leave Kaz to me. He’s in Thea’s hands here, and I take care of all in her ward,” Nisho says. “If you can’t do something for yourself then do it for me, don’t leave me here alone, you have to fight the blight and stay with me.”

Now standing taller, Tollin pulls Nisho into his embrace and holds him close against him. “I won’t give up.”

Razha lets go of Nadia and walks toward the other side of the room. “Comrades, let’s talk a second.”

“Yeah?” Filla says as the five of them gather.

“After you’re done here, we’ve got just one more errand in town,” Razha says.