To the Watcher on the Tower #

31 January 2025 #

A story set in the world of The Eternal Chroniclers #

First published in The Literary Fantasy Magazine: Winter 2025

Another hot day, not even a whisper of wind, nor wisp of cloud. The sky was clear, blue, and so god-damned overwhelming. The only relief came from the occasional airship floating by overhead, blotting out the sun for a few short minutes. Reyna was sweating, had been since a quarter past the eighth bell. The twelfth bell just rang, which meant eight more until her watch was over. After, she would descend a hundred hot iron rungs, grab a drink at Marne’s, then do it all again the next morning.

Simple. Easy. That was all Reyna wanted out of life.

Today was anything but. Some days were like that. Engineering students gathered at the quay in front of the customs building, protesting the recent book bannings.

Commander Gellus warned Reyna that morning it might happen. “Be prepared to fire if things get out of hand.”

Reyna enlisted in the watch years ago and had yet to fire her weapon on duty. There had never been a need to. High Rock was a peaceful city, kept safe by the great Sorcerous Kings who built it for the newly arrived humans. Few of her comrades had fired on anyone while on duty; only five watchers of a thousand. Three of them did so on the same day.

On weekends, Reyna’s troupe gathered at the Undercity shooting range not far from where she grew up—before the humans appeared. Each watcher was issued a large bore rifle equipped with a telescopic sight capable of taking down a bison at 250 meters with a single shot. One shot was all they got. It was all the rifle could hold.

Reyna heard tell of an updated design with an increased capacity for ammunition, but the Division of Ethical Technological Advancement shut it down, long ago. Too much power in the hands of those not naturally inclined to wield it. If an incident called for more force to resolve it, there were always fire dancers on standby for crowd control. Thankfully, Reyna had never seen them at work.

Reyna watched the students roiling below, blowing trumpets, beating on drums and chanting something she could not make out from atop her watchtower. Almost every student was human, and not one possessed a sorcerous bone in their body. The gift was not meant for them.

Her trigger finger itched, and Reyna found herself tapping against the barrel of her rifle, listening to the echo reverberating through the chamber to touch a ball of lead, waiting to taste burning flesh. She forced herself to stop. Commander Gellus would have her in the pillory if he caught her doing that. The likelihood of a misfire was almost zero, but the crack of a gunshot could turn a protest into a riot. And riots meant fire dancers.

No one wanted that.

Instead, Reyna took to picking at a gray sliver of dead skin from her thumb with one hand, using the other to hold the rifle steady. She often grew restless up on the tower, especially when it was so hot, the sun bearing down on her. The Teyomi were not meant to be above ground. Not during the day, at least. Another aspect of her culture that had been altered by the humans.

One late night at Marne’s, Reyna was drinking with Sergeant Hennin, whom she grew up with in the Undercity. He had indulged in one too many, and when he leaned over to whisper in her ear, she thought he was coming on to her. She wished it had been that simple.

“You know we’re only up here because the Sorcerers want to keep them under control, right?” Hennin said. “I mean, it’s bloody obvious!”

No, Reyna had not known that, nor would she have come to such a conclusion on her own. She resented his casual libel of the good Sorcerous Kings, those who had brought an end to the chaos of her mother’s youth. They built High Rock for the humans so they could live as they were accustomed; in the open, under the sun.

Hennin’s words wormed their way into Reyna’s head, repeating as she lay in bed that night, and every night hence, as she forced herself to sleep at an unnatural time for the sake of the greater good. The Kings were benevolent. They saved her people from certain doom. “But here we are,” she mouthed, staring up at the ceiling. “Here we are, circling them on all sides. A cage for animals.”

Below, the drums and trumpets ceased, replaced with bitter shouts. Reyna snapped her rifle into position, looked through the scope to see what was happening. Aegis enforcers were in a line pushing into the mass of students, beating them with cudgels.

This was when her job became difficult. She had one shot, and a long reload. Targets must be high value, with the line of fire clear of innocents. Reyna’s shot had to put an end to chaos. There could be no mistakes. But there were hundreds of students down there, humans and Teyomi alike.

“They were chanting,” Reyna whispered. “They were just chanting.”

She looked over to Hennin’s tower, then to Gellus’. Neither one had yet fired, so she would follow suit. It was protocol for an officer to open fire first, and then for subordinates to follow with a volley. It prevented mistakes.

Chanting turned to yelling, screaming, and Reyna saw yellow clouds of smoke bloom from the crowd. Some of the students began to disperse, fleeing before what came next. The enforcers advanced. She saw they now held maces and swords. Shots would soon be fired; fire dancers would be released. All hell would break loose.

“Enough!” A booming voice roared over the crowd. A robed man stood at the top of the stairs to the customs building. A Sorcerous King, manifesting in person. Reyna could see him in her crosshairs. Such an appearance was unheard of.

All went quiet, aside from scattered coughing and sputtering wails of pain. Then someone shouted, and the protest erupted into a riot. The thunder of gunfire exploded all round. Reyna raised her rifle. She had one shot to end the chaos.