Children of Enochia

by Luke R. Mitchell

  But each argument fell short on its path from my brain to my tongue, each one running up against a tiny obstruction, so small and simple that it seemed almost laughable it could halt any thought at all. But there it was.

  Two-thousand victories.

  It was a nonsense distinction, calling it anything other than a single rebellious uprising. But it was also two-thousand victories. Two-thousand separate victories that Glenbark had won simply by standing tall and following her own compass. Two-thousand men and women who were willing to fight for an Enochia where people like me were subject to the same rights and laws as anyone else, even if we were a royal pain in the ass.

  And if Freya Glenbark could convince two-thousand to follow her, then why not twenty-thousand? Why not two-hundred thousand?

  “I think Freya’s starting to rub off on you,” I said quietly.

  “If only,” Johnny murmured, a wistful expression touching his face before he shook it off and focused a frown back on me. “But why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re starting to make a habit of making more sense than I’m ready to deal with.”

  “That’s an insult as much as a compliment, you know, “ he said, tapping thoughtfully at his jawline. “But I’ll choose to take it as the latter. Because that’s what we can do, see, when someone gives us a hard bit of blunt opinion.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

  Glenbark’s door hissed open before either of us could say anything more, and General Hopper appeared to invite us all inside. Johnny and I filed in behind Garrett and the others. I exchanged a brief hello with Dillard and a few polite if not quite friendly nods with some of the other ordos and captains gathered.

  All told, there were fourteen of us. More than enough to make Glenbark’s recent downgrade in office space rather noticeable, but we filed in and found our seats around the table without complaint.

  “Red,” Johnny said, settling down beside Garrett, who favored him with the narrowed eyes one might normally reserve for a particularly aggravating pimple.

  “I trust you all saw the High Cleric’s cease and desist warning last night?” Glenbark asked from the head of the table before the chatter could pick up.

  Unanimous nods around the room.

  “I was kinda surprised not to wake up under siege,” Johnny admitted.

  “Rest assured, they’re out there,” said General Hopper. “They haven’t found the stomach yet to close the perimeter and establish a proper siege, but I doubt it’ll be long before they do. We received another legion of supporters from the southern outposts at first light.”

  That earned him several surprised looks and a few excited murmurs among the officers. I felt a little flicker of hope myself. Five-hundred more victories wasn’t bad. But the room sobered quickly enough when Hopper added, “Even Gregor Auckus isn’t fool enough to allow this to continue freely.”

  “What do we intend to do if they press further than a perimeter siege, sir?” asked one of the captains.

  The question was obviously intended on a higher level. Every officer in this room knew exactly what tactics and actions to apply if Oasis came under attack. But as to whether to order triggers pulled when it was legionnaires and Sanctum Guard on the other side of the barrels…

  “I spoke to the High Cleric this morning,” Glenbark said, rescuing Hopper from the council’s focus. “The contents of that conversation are what I called this council to disclose.”

  That didn’t sound overly promising. Immediately, I wondered if anything I’d told her about the Sanctum’s origins had come up, but now was hardly the time to ask.

  “As you’re all aware,” she continued, “we are assembled here outside of what the High Cleric and the acting High General Auckus have deemed our lawful right. They say that I am a criminal and that any man or woman acting under my orders will likewise henceforth be treated as such. That said, I want you to all understand that you are not bound here today. If you share my loyalty to the Legion oaths we swore, and if you agree that it is our duty to defend any and all law-abiding Enochians against any threat domestic, foreign, or divine, then I welcome you by my side gladly. If, however, you wish to leave, you may walk away from this table and this fortress without fear of punishment. The High Cleric himself has claimed you may return to your former stations in the same fashion, if you choose to trust his word. I leave it to you.”

  The silence that followed, while undoubtedly grim, did not feel like one of hesitation so much as one of mutual respect, each assembled member allowing his or her fellows the chance to speak first.

  “We’re with you, High General,” one of the captains finally said, to the solemn nods of all her peers.

  “You already know where we stand, sir,” Dillard added.

  Glenbark looked around the table, waiting to see if anyone would say otherwise.

  No one did.

  “Then I am proud to serve with each and every one of you,” she finally said. “And you should know, first and foremost, that after my having talked with the High Cleric, I genuinely believe peace to be untenable with his regime. Indeed, at this point, I suspect that, even if we were to turn over every gifted individual currently in our protection, the High Cleric would not rest until he’d seen each and every one of us stripped of our power—and possibly of our lives as well.”

  A tangible wave of unease passed through the room, carried around the table on the backs of nervous glances and uncomfortable shifting. General Hopper frowned at Glenbark, apparently not approving of her candor in front of the troops.

  “I do not make this claim lightly,” Glenbark said, unfazed, “nor will I pretend it to be anything more than my personal appraisal. The High Cleric did not say as much directly. But from what I have seen of this man and his fervent zealotry to uphold what he deems to be the Will of Alpha, it is my honest belief that he would kill outside of our worldly laws to see to it that the Sanctum remains unchallenged, even by the Legion. Which is exactly why he supplanted me with Gregor Auckus, a man who has resided deeply in the Sanctum’s pocket for some time now. Perhaps it is melodramatic of me to say, but it seems in our efforts to pry Enochia from the clutches of the raknoth, we’ve allowed it to land squarely in the grasp of two men who would see the world serve their will rather than any other alternative.”

  She paused to look around the table, allowing time for argument, or maybe just to process.

  “Forgive my bluntness, High General,” said the captain who’d spoken earlier, “but how do we aim to rectify the situation?”

  “You needn’t apologize for bluntness here, Captain Tennin,” Glenbark said. “And as for the how, we will begin by taking back Haven.”

  That caused the first real stir among the officers—all of them, including Hopper, exchanging worried looks, like they’d just received the confirmation they’d secretly been fearing all along: that their High General had indeed lost her mind.

  “Don’t mistake my simplicity to mean I expect it will be easy,” Glenbark said. “It will not be easy. But it is possible. I was awake through the night, speaking with dozens of officers stationed in Haven and elsewhere. Today, I will speak with dozens more, and I expect the consensus will be much the same. There are those who firmly believe in what Auckus and the Sanctum did to me at Haven. Some refuse even to speak with me. But for each of those non-allies, there are many more who are disturbed by what’s happened. They are afraid and conflicted. And they might well be willing to do something about it.”

  “Sir,” one of the captains said, “even if we were to resume control of Haven…”

  “You wonder how it would be any different than before.”

  The captain gave a curt nod, avoiding her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  Glenbark looked around the table.

  “I failed you all before. I underestimated the High Cleric’s resolve to act so boldly right at the heart of our power. For that, I am sorry. Lives were lost. And Enochia was shaken. And for all of it, I claim my due respon
sibility. But I promise you, on the sanctity of the office that I swore to execute, I will not make that mistake again. We will take back our Legion. We will offer our brothers and sisters the same choice I offered you. And most importantly, we will open our doors and offer protection to anyone and everyone who would be persecuted outside the bounds of established law by the Sanctum or any other powers that be.”

  “Freya…” Hopper said, rousing from his silent reflections with a startled expression. By the look on his face when she turned to him, I’m not sure he’d meant to speak at all.

  “It is an exploitable vulnerability, yes,” she said, not flinching from the fact. “One the Sanctum may well try to use against us, even. After everything that’s happened to Enochia, though… Call me idealistic, General, but I think we’ve had enough of world powers neglecting to espouse the very values for which they claim to be fighting. And so, when I say this Legion will uphold our oaths to Enochia, what I mean is that we will protect those in need—not once we have the power, not once circumstances favorably permit, but from now until such time as Alpha himself descends with hard proof that these men and women are anything less than rightful citizens of Enochia.” Her lip quirked. “And even then, I might still have a few questions.”

  Whether it was the words themselves, or just the cold fire with which they spilled out of her, that earned a round of thumps on the table from the officers. Johnny and I joined in, as did Garrett and the other Shapers.

  Only General Hopper refrained, watching Glenbark with a critical stare. It was only when she turned his way that he gave her a conciliatory tilt of the head. The gesture seemed to cause him physical pain.

  “What of the High Cleric himself, sir?” Dillard asked. “If he can’t be met in peace, what are we to do when the time comes?”

  “We could kill the bastard,” Garrett muttered. “Theoretically,” he added at the number of heads turning his way. Siren even shot him a look, though I’m positive it was more for him to shut his mouth than out of any moral disagreement.

  “What?” Garrett asked. “He knowingly pressed the kill switch that was supposed to remove eleven of our heads. And that was just a Juveday morning for the guy.”

  “He has condemned many Enochians to death behind closed doors,” Adam said. “Both before and during his short time as High Cleric.”

  For a second, I almost thought Enid was going to pitch in as well, but then she relaxed in her chair, apparently satisfied with what had already been said. She and Adam both looked immeasurably better than they had the day before—though that wasn’t saying much considering they’d been beaten and tied up for a public execution yesterday. Siren, too, looked markedly more composed after a good night’s rest, though she still visibly winced with every small movement.

  Much as the thought of having these ex-Shaper-killers sharing in our inner circle still bothered me on an idealistic level, I had to admit it was actually kind of nice, not being the only Shaper at the table. It gave someone else a chance to draw all the furtive glances.

  “Even if he has committed worthy crimes against Enochia,” Glenbark was saying, “which is not the topic of this council, killing him is the one thing I am sure we cannot do. Such an act would leave our Legion irrevocably tainted in the eyes of the Alpha-fearing public.”

  “What if we could show Enochia his true colors?” my mouth asked before I’d given it proper permission.

  So much for letting those other Shapers draw the glances.

  “You’ve seen what’s inside of him,” I pushed on, meeting Glenbark’s eyes—that piercing gaze that never waned, never seemed to miss a thing. If I’d seen the darkness lurking in the High Cleric, there was no way she’d missed it. “There’s violence in him. Hatred. All the things a High Cleric is said to have transcended. If we were to somehow show that to the world…”

  I wasn’t sure how it might be done, or whether it would make a difference, or even if that difference would be in our favor. It was a figment of an idea. And one I wished I’d have thought out more thoroughly before speaking, as I felt the weight of thirteen stares holding on me.

  “How would you propose to do this, Citizen Raish?” General Hopper asked.

  “Well…” I shrugged. “I know he despises me. I doubt it’d be that hard to get him to show it in person if he thought no one was—”

  “No,” Glenbark said.

  It came so suddenly and with such authority that, for a second, all I could do was stare.

  “For now,” she continued, turning back to the rest of the small council, “we will focus on…”

  Her voice trailed off in my mind as I sat there, waiting for the indignant frustration to come. There I’d been, trying to offer myself up for the cause again, only to be shot down before I could take off. And I was grateful, I realized with a flicker of surprise. It wasn’t anger that came, but relief. I felt like a weary traveler who’d unexpectedly reached the top of the climb when he was sure there’d been miles left to go.

  Because I was weary.

  I didn’t want to face that man down again. I didn’t want to find out if I could fight my way clear after the fact. All I wanted at that point was to fall into a comfortable bed with Elise, and to never leave it again.

  I looked self-consciously around at the gathering, sure that they’d see my red-faced shame at sitting here on the brink of a revolution, grateful that I’d not actually been tasked with the worthy sacrifice I’d so hastily thought to offer up. But no one seemed to be paying attention to me at all. And that was a relief as well.

  When had I become a tired coward?

  “Your assignments, accordingly, are equally unorthodox,” Glenbark was saying. “We will meet again this afternoon to begin stress-testing the campaign plan, but between now and then, I want each of you to reach out to your most trusted peers. Mention nothing of our specific designs on Haven, but do not hesitate to converse openly about what has happened to our Legion, and why we seek to restore the integrity of our oaths.”

  A few of the officers, Dillard included, looked like they’d have rather been given orders to march straight on the White Tower than to play diplomat, but no one said a word.

  “I recommend you take some time before you begin,” Glenbark continued. “Reflect on what it is you’re fighting for, and why you believe it matters. Talk to your soldiers if you so wish, or reflect privately. It matters not, so long as you can look your colleagues in the face and tell them with conviction why we are doing this, and why we have run afoul of those claiming to represent the rule of Enochia.”

  She looked around the table, favoring each of her officers in turn with an expression that was hard to describe. Not a smile, but a kind of stern pride with just enough of a hint of friendly camaraderie to make good soldiers hop to. And so they did, each ordo and captain sitting just a little straighter as Glenbark’s gaze found them.

  “That is all for now,” she finally said. “Thank you. All of you. You are dismissed.”

  Compared to the tidy salutes and the crisp movements of the officers rising to clear the room, I must’ve looked like a drunk. I rose to join Johnny and the Shapers in filing out of the room, still wondering what critical error had occurred in my base programming to have left me feeling like this.

  I almost jumped when Johnny unexpectedly grabbed my arm out in the hallway. He frowned down at his palmlight for a second, then nodded we should go the other way, toward the unused office we’d used the day before to talk to Elise and Alton Parker. I didn’t argue. I did glance back over my shoulder as we parted from the small traffic stream. As had been the case in Glenbark’s office, no one seemed to notice or think twice about what I was or wasn’t doing. No one but General Hopper, who watched us go with a curious frown but said nothing.

  “What’s up?” I asked when Johnny pulled us into the empty office. “If this is about what I said back there…”

  He shook his head and brandished his palmlight. “Just following orders like a good servitor. I
think she wants to talk to you in private.”

  “Oh.”

  That was… unexpected.

  “Though, for the record,” he added, “I didn’t love where that High Cleric stuff was headed either.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” I said, suddenly kind of wishing Johnny had pulled me in here solely to have words about what I’d said in there. For a second, I even wanted to point out that I’d been relieved to have been shut down by Glenbark. Then I realized I kind of just had, and that Johnny was staring at me like I’d just coughed up a hairball.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just… Bad night’s sleep, is all. I’ll be fine.”

  “Right, sure.” He eyed me speculatively, clearly not taking me at my word. “Well, just wait here a minute either way. I’ll be right back.”

  32

  Damned If You’re Damned

  I didn’t argue as Johnny slipped out of the meeting room, nor did I manage to assemble my thoughts into anything resembling “tidy” or “coherent” before the door opened a few minutes later, and Glenbark slipped into the room alone. I caught a flash of Johnny outside as she pulled the door closed behind her. Then it was just the two of us.

  That didn’t bode well.

  “What you said about showing the High Cleric’s true colors,” she said slowly. “Did you have a plan?”

  My stomach fell. “No.”

  She cocked her head slightly as if to say she could hardly believe that.

  “Not a good one,” I clarified.

  “Sadly,” she said, “I think the time for good plans might be behind us.”

  “But then why did you…” I considered what I was about to ask, and sank into the closest chair with the weight of my own answer. “You don’t trust that council?”

  She took a few steps closer, speaking in a voice that would not be overheard, even by Johnny outside the door.