Despite the fact that no one moves, he finds himself dizzy and mildly nauseous as the group leaps and pirouettes through time. Still, he is able to receive and digest all of the information supplied at each stop. For an unsophisticated and shiftless man, such as himself, the revelations are nearly overwhelming. Still, when the sprites reveal that they’ve been brought to the same time frame that he’d been wondering about, he begins to find trust in his own capabilities about his role in this ordeal.
Ever the taciturn spectator, he watches the events unfold on the beach without perceptible movements or plaintive wails. Though he’d never been an attentive, let alone affectionate parent, he is as unsettled as any of the others are by the cataclysmic end of both foals. He looks to the sky as the filly eventually succumbs, in part to see where the giant bird has gone, but mostly to control the outward expressions he might be making as a barrage of unfamiliar emotions hammer at his soul. Would he have ever waged war for a child presumed to be struck down by another’s hand? Perhaps at the behest of the mother, but certainly never of his own volition. Would he have mourned such a loss? He has no answer.
His skin prickles with discomfort as the Baltians arrive first and finds that he sympathizes with their sorrow as they recover the bodies. But then the Stratosians descend into the shared nightmare. He shifts his weight as pairs of eyes meet in animus. He is sure he knows what comes next.
But has forgotten the magic that has brought them on this unusual journey.
He senses, more than feels, that the others from Beqanna have vanished from the scene.
An eternity passes in the brief silence.
Then, all hell breaks loose.
The air-dwellers fidget fretfully as they demand answers from the water-bound people. He can see that some are already settling into their own erroneous assumptions. Their volume rises into a cacophony as their anger continues to swell. Meanwhile, several of the Baltians are mute with tears streaming down their faces, while others are loudly trying to claim ignorance of the events preceding their morbid discovery.
A stray thought blindsides him in the moment and he fails to notice that he is much closer to the lamenters than he thought and some of the quieter creatures are looking in his direction.
He had selfishly sought a fragment of Beqanna’s magic, and thus had joined this expedition, because he had learned that he was a stranger in his own home. He had foolishly thought that asking for a shiny new trinket might make him more appealing to those that had been born knowing of these new traits, both physical and mystical.
But now he wishes for some kind of supernatural power for a different reason. He wants a chance to give them a new future, and yes, to save his home from falling into ruin. He wonders if it is possible and how he would even accomplish such a feat. Rewind time, prevent the deaths? That seems unlikely. If only there was a way for these people to pause long enough to allow him the opportunity to bear witness.
He does not see who moves first, but suddenly bodies leap to close the gap that lies between the groups. This is what he had expected when the Stratosians landed, given his knowledge of what the Baltian/Stratosian futures hold. What throws him is the fact that several of the strangers turn their rage on him as well. He rocks his weight back in surprise and feels his feet leave the ground momentarily. When they strike ground heavily, stillness suddenly falls upon the scene.
The sprites have seen fit to grant his wish and everyone, apart from him, seems to petrify wherever he or she stands.
Flummoxed, he steps cautiously toward those that had been barreling towards him. Manes and tails and feathers stir gently but everything else remains motionless in the mild, salty breeze that sweeps around them. He sighs deeply. This is not exactly what he wanted. How is he to speak his piece if everyone is frozen?
He pounds a hoof in frustration and the noise resumes, though a note of confusion quickly replaces that of anger in the multitude of voices.
Now what fresh hell is this?
Everyone remains in place, but their heads move just as freely as their words, which flow fast and furious. Well, it’s better than nothing. He musters the breath in his lungs and shouts as loudly as he can. ”ENOUGH!”
He takes advantage of the startled silence and plunges onward, ”I know you seek vengeance for these children, but there is much for you to learn today. If you agree to stand down and allow me to explain, I will release you.” He doesn’t know if he can do so, but he suspects that this newfound magic will work in his favor. The fervor eventually settles into begrudging whispers, which he takes as assent to his request. With confidence, his hoof lifts and lands sharply back into its place. Some Baltians and Stratosians seem bent on continuing their rampage, but the majority manages to restrain these few and all turn their suspicious gazes to him as he goes to stand between the groups. He looks over the crowd and takes a steadying breath.
”I warn you, if this fighting continues after I leave this place, these two innocent lives will only be the first of many that will be lost to you in the years to come.” He pauses for a moment, wondering how much of their future he should reveal, but then the rumbles of fear and indignation begin.
”What began as comradery between two happy young souls will turn into a nightmare of senseless death. Where I come from, you’ve turned against each other without pausing to understand what truly happened here. The war carries on for centuries and none of your descendants know why the fight began, only that they must continue it no matter the cost. I don’t usually meddle in such affairs, but now my home is at risk of crumbling to ruin because of your incessant need for domination over the other.”
He turns to the Stratosians first. ”Your girl has been obviously bludgeoned and drowned, so you make assumptions of these strangers because they are powerful fearsome creatures of the deep..” He looks to the Baltians. ”But they know even less of the circumstances than you. They arrived mere moments before you and pulled the children from their watery graves. Did you not notice that they are also wracked with grief? Well, of course not. Your own grief seized all rational thought.”
His eyes move to the cliffs where he had last seen the Roc that set motion to the tragedy. ”Your children were murdered, but not by one of either of your kind. They met earlier in the day and became fast friends. Unfortunately, their play led them to this place, where some type of enormous bird up there intended to hunt them both. When it moved to kill, it sent rocks tumbling down the cliffside. One struck the boy and he fell into the water. He didn’t stand a chance. But the girl did not know, so she bravely went in after him. There, she also fell victim to a boulder that eventually pinned her beneath the waves.”
”If I could have stopped it, I would have, but there are some things that fate will not allow us to change.” His breath hitches, hinting at the sadness rising in his throat and hopefully creating an air of sincerity that endears him to his audience.
”I cannot force you to find the same kinship in each other as your children did yesterday, but nor do you have to become enemies this day. I could beseech you on behalf of my country, but why should you care about the fate of a distant land? Instead I ask this.. Are you willing to sacrifice more of your children for a hasty, ill-conceived presumption of guilt? If so, then by all means..”
His head dips and sweeps to the side as he steps back, clearly indicating that he will not stand in their way.
