by T. C. Edge
Minutes later, I’m moving down the corridor towards Lady Orlando’s office, stepping inside, and finding my brother in mid-flow. I shut the door silently and see that an impromptu meeting has been formed, with Beckett, Freya, and Adryan also present.
“…they’ll be here within a week at the latest,” Zander is saying. He doesn’t stop and turn to the door like everyone else. His eyes remain fixed on Lady Orlando. “I couldn’t gauge numbers with any firm accuracy, but I’d say we’re looking at at least five thousand, and perhaps many more. What capabilities they have, we can’t possibly know. But, we have to assume that they have powerful hybrids and regular Enhanced with them. I deduce that they have been scouting the city from the shadows, and will know just what they’re up against. They began gathering just as war broke out, and have probably got wind that a ceasefire is in effect. This is their time to strike.”
He begins pacing around the room as he speaks, the soft sound of footsteps marching to the beat of his words.
“Our walls will keep them out,” says Freya confidently. My brother glances at her, quick as a rattlesnake’s bite.
“Maybe so,” he says. “But, as I say, they know full well what defences this city holds. We have to operate under the assumption that they have means of breaching them, and getting inside. Otherwise an attack would be folly.”
“Perhaps it is,” grunts Freya. “These are barbarians. They know nothing about battle tactics. They have no powerful weaponry. We will slaughter them like fish in a barrel. Why do you all look so concerned?”
“Because, Freya,” says Zander slowly, as if talking to an idiot, “to underestimate an opponent is to court death. Cromwell clearly took these threats seriously, and if he did, then we need to as well. We can’t with any real accuracy determine what sort of weaponry they have, and what we’re dealing with here.” He turns to Lady Orlando, and addresses her alone. “We have our confirmation,” he says. “Director Cromwell was speaking the truth. We need to meet with him immediately and discover what else he might know. We need to form this alliance, Lady Orlando.”
My grandmother’s eyes stay passive and cool. I glance at Beckett, expecting to see some sort of dissent, but see nothing of the sort. It appears that he’s been won over by the facts.
Lady Orlando begins to nod.
“We will speak with Artemis immediately. So far, he has met our terms, returning Leyton to us mostly unscathed and bringing our people from the mines in much the same state. As much as it appals me to say it,” she says, glancing at me, “we need him as much as he needs us.”
I look at the gathering, and hate the eyes that I see. They’re eyes of agreement, eyes that show me this is really happening. That we’re going to make a pact with the devil, and lose a little of our souls in the process.
But beyond the eyes of assent I see and hate, I hate one pair the most – my own. I hate them because I know what lies behind. I know that everything being said in this room is right. I know that we have no choice but to set aside our differences and stand against this force as one.
But there’s one other thing I know.
I know that I don’t trust my grandfather, and never will. I know that, behind this arrangement, he’ll be forming some other plot. I know that, whatever he says, and whatever face he presents to us, he harbours the desire for revenge just as much as we do, as I do.
So I need to be smarter. I need to be shrewder. I need to think like the snake and stay one step ahead.
Because before this war is done, I’m going to look upon that man’s corpse.
If it’s the last thing I do in this world, I’m going to watch him die.
THE END
The Enhanced will continue in the next book, Defender.
Part IX
DEFENDER
229
I stand outside the City Guard HQ in silence.
The constant hum of activity, created by the clearing of the wreckage of the High Tower, and the relentless footfall of both soldier and civilians, has temporarily gone mute. A thousand people stand, unmoving, unspeaking, their eyes set on a single sole. Waiting for her to speak.
The sun is still rising, and the air is cool and calm. The perpetual cloud of dust that grew in the wake of the High Tower’s fall has begun to fade away. Slowly but surely, the centre of the city, the centre of Inner Haven, is beginning to be restored.
The people are a collage, brought here from all walks of life. Surviving Savants, now serving a new master. City Guards doing the same. Rebels of the Nameless, rugged and worn. Enhanced and Unenhanced alike, gathered from all corners of the city, now standing as one in the face of a greater threat.
All now fall under the same banner. The banner of freedom.
Yet beyond the city, within the REEF, Artemis Cromwell still lurks with his sycophants and Stalkers. And over in the eastern quarter, the Con-Cops still control the food production plants and factories, awaiting their master’s orders.
They remain, to me, our enemy. But not at this time. Right now, we have no choice but to stand side by side and face the incoming threat head on. Because it is coming, and there’s no hiding from it here.
The people have yet to discover the truth of what’s going on. To them, the ceasefire in place speaks of our victory. They think that a longer, more permanent peace is currently being negotiated. They think that this city has seen the last of its fighting.
They’re wrong.
Just beyond the City Guard HQ, a small stage has been erected. It was hastily constructed in the early hours of the morning, not long after Zander and I returned from the outerlands with confirmation of the threat we’re facing. Now, that threat needs to be spread to the people. They deserve to know the truth.
The cameras have been set in place, ready to beam my grandmother’s face across all the working screens in the city. All residents across Inner Haven, and those still in Outer Haven, will be waking to the announcement that they are far from safe. That the city that has seen so much suffering will now be set against a new foe, one that we still know so little about.
I watch my grandmother now as she steps up onto the podium. The last few days have seen her go without much sleep, and the stress is taking its toll. It’s visible through the expression on her face, the deepening wrinkles and growing pallor of her skin. And her movements too, creaking and aching with every step as she climbs towards the microphone.
She’s not alone in that. Dark circles now adopt a permanent position below so many sets of eyes. A haunted, fearful expression appears to have taken hold on so many faces. Few of us now sleep as much as we should, as our bodies need. We catch what rest we can, when we can, and continue to run on fumes. It’s become something I’ve quickly grown used to through necessity alone.
The silence in the crowd deepens as Lady Orlando moves ahead of the microphone. It’s a stark image to see her here, under the yellow morning light, with the carcass of the High Tower painting a terrible backdrop. Its ghosts still haunt me, and yet they’re drowned out by so many others. Others I’ve killed. So many lives I’ve now taken…
They will come at me in my nightmares for as long as I live. I know that now. I know that full well. Yet here, awake, I can keep them at bay. Thrust them into the recesses of my subconscious, just waiting to creep back to the light when I fade off into my dreams.
I do so now, dismissing them all as Lady Orlando surveys the crowd. And in that crowd are so many I care for, so many who remain under threat. Brenda and Tess stand close, already aware of the incoming threat. I see their weary eyes and know they’ve been struggling to sleep as well. Yet they adopt weak smiles too, expressions they have to constantly hold in order to keep the kids calm.
Drum is with them, having spent his first night back from the mines in Compton’s Hall. He’ll now be assigned to a new post within the military, drafted into some patrol or set in position against the border wall in Outer Haven. His countenance is firm, eyes solid. He, too, will be quite aware of what we’re
facing.
Others at the heart of the Nameless dot the areas closest to the stage. Beckett, Freya, Rycard. I spot Sophie too, not with her husband but away in the crowd, their duties keeping them apart. And right by my side, my brother and Adryan stand, the former with his left arm bandaged from the battle with the Bear-Skins; the latter so close I can feel his warmth in the early morning cool.
We all stand, along with a thousand others, and not a single word is spoken as Lady Orlando opens her mouth, and begins.
“Good morning, everyone,” she says, her voice floating calmly across the throng. “I have gathered you here to set you straight. Over the last couple of days, a great deal of rumour has been circulating regarding the ceasefire in this city, and the current state of peace. Some of you have heard that a new attack is coming, and that Director Cromwell is preparing to retaliate for our capture of Inner Haven. That isn’t true. In fact, quite the opposite…”
Her words bring a rumble of confusion and whispers. She quietens them with her next words.
“As of right now,” she continues, “the extremities of Outer Haven are being bolstered and fortified. We have hundreds of our soldiers on patrol and watching the perimeter, and the City Guards who remain under Director Cromwell’s command are aiding us in this task.
“We are, ladies and gentlemen, currently working together in the face of a common threat. Only last night, we got confirmation from two of our trusted soldiers that a large force is coming from the west. Right now, we have little further information to go on, and are currently liaising with Director Cromwell to further our understanding of this potential threat.”
Her words bring a further round of murmurs. These are more vocal, the idea of working with Cromwell clearly rather repellent to several members of the crowd.
“I understand your concerns,” calls out my grandmother. “Director Cromwell remains a threat to us, and we are not going to fall into the trap of trusting him completely. However, the simple fact is that, should this incoming force turn out to be hostile, we may need to combine our forces into order to repel them.
“Many of you here right now have only recently returned from the mines. For those who aren’t aware, and for all the tens of thousands of you listening across the city, know that it was Director Cromwell’s Stalkers who escorted our people back to safety. I have heard accounts from several people telling of how the Stalkers protected them. They did this under Artemis’ command, and we can take that as some sign of cooperation should we need to fight alongside them.”
More grumbles spread from the throng. Several people shout out their aversion to the idea. Again, my grandmother cools them with graceful lift of her hand.
“We have little more to tell you now,” she goes on. “We will be doing all we can to learn as much as possible about this threat, and if we’re called to fight, we will. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I will always choose a course of negotiation over war if one is possible, but if such a thing turns out to be impossible, we will work with Director Cromwell to deal with the threat.
“Here, in Inner Haven, you will remain safe. It is highly doubtful that any army will be able to breach our walls…”
The crowd find their voices again. I hear several queries being shouted from their midst.
“How large is this army?”
“When will they get here?”
“Are they Enhanced? Are they hybrids?”
Lady Orlando deals with them as best she can.
“We don’t yet know the exact size of the force or their make-up. Estimates suggest at least five thousand. They are crossing the plains west of here, and will most likely reach the western woods within a few days…”
“A few days!”
“Five thousand!”
The crowd begin to rumble more ferociously. I wonder quite why she’s being so honest, given her supreme ability at keeping secrets. I like the transparency, though. We’re all in this together, after all.
As the calls get more wild, however, Beckett storms up onto stage, his voice like a force of nature as he bellows across the plaza.
“Quiet yourselves down!” he shouts. “We have everything in hand, and there’s no reason for you to worry. As Lady Orlando says, you’re perfectly safe here. No number of wildmen can breach our walls, and our soldiers will keep you safe. If, and that remains a big if,” he growls, “we need to operate alongside Cromwell’s Stalkers, then we will…”
“And what about after?” shouts a man. “What will you do with Cromwell after? Make peace? Go back to war with him?”
The crowd get on board and start murmuring the same query. Beckett looks to Lady Orlando, who retakes the mic.
“We will deal with that when we come to it. Right now we must maintain our focus on this force from the west. Please, continue with your lives and duties, and know that we’re doing all we can to prevent further war from escalating.”
She steps away and off the stage before anyone else can disrupt her. More calls begin to flow from the crowd, building up as she’s quickly escorted back into the City Guard HQ by her protective guard. I stand and listen to the tumult for a moment, before following closely behind along with the other high profile members of the Nameless.
Alongside me, Adryan hurries.
“You think that was a good idea?” I ask him. “Telling them all what’s going on?”
He shrugs.
“I suppose they deserve to know, though it was always going to lead to more questions, given the fact that we have so little information.”
“Yep. Well hopefully we’ll find out a bit more ourselves soon enough. You believe that she’ll go to negotiate with these people?”
“Of course. Negotiation is always the first port of call in these sorts of situations. If they’re coming to exact some sort of revenge on Cromwell’s treatment of them, then it’s best to show them that he’s no longer in control around here.”
“Personally, I’m not sure they’ll care about who’s in charge. Their slight is with the ‘big city with all the lights’. Maybe I’ve grown embittered by all this, but I’m thinking they’re coming here to destroy the city, not try to occupy it. I mean, they’re from the wilds, Adryan. They don’t want to live here. They just want to destroy us.”
I find Adryan looking at me with a curious expression as I speak.
“Embittered,” he says, nodding. “Though, that’s completely understandable. And for what it’s worth, I reckon you’re right. But, regardless, Lady Orlando will still wish to commune with these people as early as possible and see if she can strike a bargain.”
“Well, how about this for a bargain – we hand them Cromwell and let them do whatever they want to him,” I growl. “Throw in his Stalkers for good measure. Then maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
I finish with a huff, knowing none of that will happen.
“Sounds reasonable to me,” smiles Adryan. “Easier said than done, but highly appealing.”
“Yeah, just the problem of the Stalkers primed to kill us all if anything happens to their damn director. Much as I hate him, I’ve gotta hand it to him on that one. Unless we can take out the Stalkers, or lure them into some sort of trap, old Artemis is pretty much untouchable.”
Adryan nods silently, and through into the City Guard HQ we go.
We gather in the main forum, where Lady Orlando addresses the prime members of the Nameless towards the rear. The only absentee is Commander Burns, who remains under guard in the infirmary.
Last night, having returned from the outerlands, Zander headed down there to have his shoulder seen to, and to perform another brief inspection of Burns’ mind in a hunt for hidden orders. He came up with nothing. Only by Burns’ personal recommendation has he remained down there with two guards outside the door.
Still, I know that’s a temporary measure, and his wisdom will be important in the days to come.
“OK, are we all set?” asks my grandmother, surveying the small gathering.
S
he doesn’t wait for anyone to offer a vocal answer.
“Excellent,” she continues. “Now let’s go ahead and find out just what Artemis has to say.”
Typical of the times, the morning rushes on without allowing us time to breathe. Together with Zander, Adryan, Beckett, Rycard, and Freya, and along with a large cohort of hybrids including Marker, we begin moving through the rear of the building towards our convoy at the back.
Our sights are set once again on the western gate of Outer Haven. And, once again, it’s time to meet with my grandfather.
230
The meeting with Cromwell occurs in the same place as it did before.
This time, however, we don’t step beyond the western gate of Outer Haven, but stay within the city limits as we await our guest. With our soldiers once more posted in position atop the walls and inside the gate, we quickly hear warning from above that he approaches.
As before, he comes with his band of Stalkers for protection, several dozen of them by his side and taking position outside the gates. Only he, however, is permitted entry past. And this time, he comes with only a single ally.
No other members of the Consortium join him, and only Agent Woolf appears by his side. They enter through the gate, grinding open under the late morning sun, the gathering of black-clad Stalkers loitering behind.
Our own party await him, and a question immediately rises on my grandmother’s lips.
“Just you this time it is, Artemis?” she asks, barely acknowledging Woolf’s presence.
I suppose the agent isn’t here to negotiate, but merely to use her considerable mental gifts to ensure that no lies are being spoken on our side of the discussion. Those eyes of hers are always watching, and those lips are always smirking. I pray for the day when the expression is permanently wiped from her face.