9. The Final Flood

Prebuha was dazed and propped up by her mother. She was a murderer. She had betrayed the Sumiseri and sent them into the hands of the evil Akradi. How could they cheer her on? Why was she allowed back? Why was this good?

At the same time, their love and hugs traveled through her veins like the sweetest honey. She was home, she was safe, all was well.

Larsh walked up to her. “Many creatures saw what you did, Prebuha. You’ve sent the Sumiser army the wrong way and killed their threatening leader. Megitas is annoyed about the last part, but we view you as a heroine!”

“I’m not a heroine,” she mumbled. The very idea of violence now made her sick.

Larsh frowned. She walked past him. “I know who wrote that mysterious message. And I know we should’ve listened to it long ago.”

She led the group outside, to the fields that had finally dried up. To the lonely hut in which a scientist—before they called them such—always did his duty.

The Clayskipper stepped outside. A basket full of food and tools was attached to the quills on his back. His son Welpon walked beside him, mostly carrying his own small inventions.

“You?” Larsh said.

“He paid the Gosti traders with his own inventions, to deliver the message at the next trade,” Prebuha said. She pointed at Mamotas, who could confirm the story once they understood each other’s language more.

His quills bent. “It is true. My calculations—”

“Nobody cares about your calculations!” Larsh yelled. “Why did you falsify my father’s signature!? Why—”

“That’s the problem!” the Clayskipper yelled. “Nobody cares about my calculations. As I, year after year, with increasing certainty, can prove a huge disaster is coming! I thought … I thought if I added the leader’s name … but no …”

Prebuha placed her own claw over her mouth at the next realization. “But he obviously couldn’t find out. So before he could dispute, you had to … kill Larsham.”

Larsh ran for him. Megitas barely stopped him with his walking cane.

“Not true! Not true!” the Clayskipper said, stepping back in a panic. “I had discussed the plan with him. He knew. That’s why we were both on top of that wall that night.”

He protectively pushed his son behind him again. “We flee, for this city won’t survive much longer.”

The Clayskipper was everyone’s friend. His work carried the entire city. if he turned his back and left … shouldn’t everyone immediately follow?

Larsh blocked his exit. “So you were there when father … fell?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.” His quills bent even further, causing the basket to slide off his back. His voice was small. “I ask that you remember how much me and my son did for the Indus. I ask mercy.”

Larsh’ face turned red, his sharp hyena teeth bared. “What happened?”

Prebuha had figured it out; she already had the suspicion since finding the cannonball outside the wall. She also protectively shielded small Welpon. They had to flee the disasters. They had to be strong together. Not fight.

“It was an accident, wasn’t it?” she said softly. “Welpon’s new weapon accidentally fired. And then …”

The Clayskipper grabbed his son, almost covering him like a blanket. “Please … he couldn’t help it …”

Welpon shook all over his body. Larsh roared and spread his jaws, prowling as the Clayskipper begged for mercy.

All bystanders instinctively wanted to react and punish Welpon. But they stopped themselves in uncertainty.

Larsh circled on the spot, talking to himself. The Clayskipper was a good man. His father was dead. It was an accident. His father was killed.

Prebuha stopped him with a claw to his forehead.

“I know what it’s like to lose your dad,” she whispered. “I know what it’s like to live together with those guilty. I also know now how it feels to be left alone or live in another, violent, stupid civilization. You don’t want that, Larsh. You don’t.”

A tear rolled off his cheek. His feet pounded the earth, time and time again, until his anger subsided. Though Prebuha knew the anger, the idea that you should get revenge, was never really gone.

A deep sigh. “How sure are you, Clayskipper? The disasters?”

The ground already shook. Small, loose chunks tumbled from the weakest spots in the outer walls.

“Extremely certain.”

“Inform all Regions!” Larsh yelled. “Gather your loved ones and belongings. We leave together! And now!”

The shaking worsened. Larger and larger parts of buildings collapsed—but that wasn’t the biggest issue.

The tiny earthquakes were already enough to flood the river. Far earlier than it should have. Far worse than all thousands of years before now.

A layer of water quickly covered the fields and splashed against their ankles. At the next earthquake, the layer rose considerably, as if each shake wanted to drain the Indus.

The group ran every which way. They yelled warnings and instructions to the closest Regions.

Prebuha was left behind with Mamotas, mother, and the Clayskipper.

“I knew,” mother said with a smile, even though their world crumbled around them. “You saved our honor. Your deeds might not save our city, but they will save our civilization!”

“I’m not a heroine,” she mumbled again. “All I did was violent and selfish.”

The Clayskipper stared at her intensely. “No. What you did is most social of all. You’d do anything to protect your group, to help your social group. War and violence are the same. They’re just the most aggressive display of standing up for yourself and your loved ones.”

He winked, clearly relieved his son was still at his side. “Megitas can talk about peace and the soul of Asha. You don’t think we’re stupid enough to place absolutely no weapons around our territory?”

Waves lifted him and carried him to the Citadel. Prebuha and the others were also carried away by higher and higher waves, to the outer walls that partially crumbled. She peddled and pushed against debris to steer.

Whereto? The storage where they supposedly threw away all of Welpon’s inventions.

It was empty. There wasn’t even any proof that it ever contained anything.

She wanted to keep looking, smiling at the thought that Welpon’s silly weapons played a role in keeping them a little safer, but mother pulled her onward.

They yelled at all the other Regions. The Crowstrays at their left, the Bowbanners at their right. The water was still below the height of the city, but it wouldn’t stay that way.

Walls between Regions received deep cracks and would crumble soon. Even that wasn’t enough to convince some creatures.

They should have listened! They should have fled many moons ago, when it was easy and safe!

The tremors grew even more violent. Prebuha thought it sounded distressingly similar to—to—the thumping of the Akradi army.

“Keep helping,” she yelled, “I have to do something else.”

Reluctantly, Mamotas and mother continued without her. She rapidly scaled the walls, using the vines and a few powerful tall waves. Higher and higher, until she could look into the distance.

The Akradi army was coming. Below their feet, the earth cracked just the same and sent waves at the masked warriors—but they did not care at all.

She turned around. The Sumiseri must have noticed their commander leaving, for they marched straight at the city from the opposite side. With angry war songs and weapons raised.

If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was surrounded by two armies from the same civilization.

Her wall crumbled further.

She tumbled backward. Her arms waved and fluttered until she grabbed a vine. Her face almost crashed into the tiled floor, but the vine had run out of length and yanked her back up.

Working off instinct, she let go at the highest point and made a swan dive to the roof of Larsh’ building. She rolled through the wet clay and received piles of pebbles on her tongue—but she lived.

Beneath her, the beautiful, designed, godly city collapsed. The cracks from the earthquakes, however shallow, created hundreds of new rivers that pushed the water into homes and streets with ease.

Entire Regions tried to flee, holding only their children or a bundle of clothes and food, through the new holes in the outer walls. To her right, that white and black panda left the city. They seemed awfully calm.

“All curses and clocks,” the white panda said. “Our plan was so good this time. They hadn’t even filled the entire city yet!”

The black panda shrugged. “Mwah. Better luck with your next attempt at the perfect civilization.”

They helped some families escape, then suddenly vanished. She really hoped they hadn’t drowned.

But Mamotas had learned Prebuha to be positive. What was their advantage? The disasters also delayed the Akradi, hopefully just enough.

An arrow zoomed past her ear and quivered just below a window.

“Stop! Stop!” Her screams blew away in stormy winds.

The Sumiseri had spotted her and were furious. Still she jumped towards them.

She made the sign for peace and trade, as clearly as she could. They stayed furious, pointing their weapons.

Once on the ground, the Gosti traders had pushed their way to the front and returned the gesture.

Splashing water and croaking buildings sounded at her back. She had to partially swim to move forward. Each earthquake made her fear for breaking bones. The screams of her own civilization were a terrible sound, but she could not fight natural disasters or armies. All she could do …

She started the most important trade of her life.