“If we'd known,” said Ondo. “As ever, we suffer from a lack of timely information. We got here too late.”
“Why do this rather than deploying a shroud?”
“My guess is that they were experimenting. A shroud is a single installation, easy to protect with a defensive shield. They calculated that a wider use of planetary pandemics would be vulnerable to people like us or Hessia intervening.”
“We should return to the ship,” said Selene. “There's nothing to see here. If we venture further down into the lowlands, we're just going to find larger habitations where everyone's dead.”
“I…” Ondo started, but stopped, as a scream cut through the silence. It came from beyond a small stand of trees. It was, Selene thought, definitely a human cry, full-blooded with horror and fear.
A look passed between her and Ondo. They should leave, get back to the ship, stay safe. Fight the bigger fight. But Selene found herself striding towards the scream. Surtr followed and then, after a moment, so did Ondo.
They stepped warily through the trees. The ground was a soft carpet of leaf mould from the previous year's autumn, and low branches repeatedly threatened to whip them in the face as they pushed through. Surtr worked forwards in an awkward, crouched stance, a futile attempt to keep itself out of sight. The rough cries were continuing, but they were becoming less frequent, more exhausted. On the other side of the little copse, the ground fell away into a natural bowl in the ground.
Selene lay down in the shadows of the eaves to assess what they were facing. Down the slope, three men stood around another man lying on the ground, his arms held defensively in front of his face to ward off their blows. The three were kicking the man in the torso and head again and again, walking around him as if considering carefully the best angle to strike from. Some old agricultural contraption, all rusting spikes and spokes, stood nearby, the grass growing through it.
Ondo joined Selene, while Surtr waited behind them, peering through the branches. Ondo spoke to her through their direct-brain link. “It isn't going to help if we intervene. We don't know what has happened here.”
He was right, and they couldn't afford to wait around to police the crumbling society. Still, it grated to walk away, leave this man to his fate.
One of the three attackers, meanwhile, had pulled out a knife from his belt. The three wore very similar belts, she noted, and the other two also had elaborate blades tucked into them. She zoomed in with her left eye to study the weapons, then reported to Ondo and Surtr what she'd picked up.
“Ceremonial blades,” said Ondo, “used by adherents in a local ceremony that normally involves the splitting and sharing of certain fruits.”
“It looks like the blades are being put to a different use now.”
“Yes.”
The figure with the blade kneeled while the other two pinned the man down by his shoulders. The man screamed with renewed ferocity, but lacked the strength to throw off his attackers. The attacker with the knife held the point to the side of the man's head, just below his ear, then drove the weapon hard into the man's cheek. The man bucked and writhed, but couldn't get free. His ragged screams were hideous to hear.
The blade was clearly very sharp. Working rapidly, with an almost surgeon-like skill, the cutter sliced upwards to the man's temple, then across his forehead, then back down again. The screams became bubbling, weaker, then cut off. Selene watched in horror as the knife-wielder seized the flap of skin exposed at the man's hairline, then peeled his face downwards, working with the knife to separate muscle and flesh. Blood welled freely down his hand as he worked away.
Selene glanced aside at the Aetheral. Its triple eyes were focused on the scene, taking it all in, but it didn't move, didn't visibly react. Back down the slope, the victim of the attack struggled weakly for a few moments, then lay still.
Ondo gave her a backwards nod of his head, telling her they should move back. A cold tremor ran through her; she wanted to walk down the slope, confront the three men. She could kill them all easily, make them pay for what they had done. But, what then? What difference would it make? Fenwinter was another world with no future. Would it make her feel better for having killed the three of them?
No, she didn't want to be that person. After a moment, she nodded her assent to Ondo and crawled backwards, into the shadows of the trees. She stood without saying anything.
“I do not understand,” said the voice of Surtr in her head. “What was achieved by that act?”
“The faceless god cult has clearly degenerated into something much darker,” said Ondo. “The meaning has been forgotten and the name taken literally. They have turned against themselves in their desperation, attempting to placate a god because they have no other actions they can take.”
“Those three people – they are your Concordance enemies?”
“No, not directly. They don't need to be. Concordance drips its poison onto their world and ordinary people do its work for them. Almost gleefully, at times.”
“Brutalized people become brutes,” said Selene. She'd seen similar things on Maes Far, during her last few days there. Things she'd tried and failed to unsee.
“You were right,” Ondo said to her. “There is nothing we can do here.”
Warily, they retraced their steps, climbing back into the uplands. Selene glanced behind her constantly, watching for pursuit, hoping, even, that they would be followed so that she'd be forced to fight to defend herself. But they saw no one else.
Back at their mountaintop retreat, however, an unfamiliar lander hovered over the tetrahedral shape of the Radiant Dragon. A jolt of panic flashed through Selene at the sight as they rounded the final bend of the road, but the craft didn't look like any
