by T. C. Edge
I wonder if they're prizes taken from kills. Make the kill, take the claw, fang, of tuft of fur. I look closely, but can't make out much in the way of detail. Something in me, however, wonders if there are any human teeth hanging around those necks...
As I peruse the chained up wild-men, several of the crowd begin to do the same, their attention taken from the strange, snarling creature on the ground, still scraping fruitlessly in the dirt as it tries to escape. One makes the obvious distinction that they are nothing like the beast at our feet.
"Who are they?" he bellows.
Another answers from somewhere near the back. "Soldiers from Haven! They're savages, look at them!"
More and more people begin to turn their eyes in the direction of the captives, hurling insults in their direction. The scrambling creature on the floor suddenly loses half its audience, a mercy no doubt given it's wild, skittish behaviour.
"That's right," calls out Herald Kovas. "They are barbarians and nothing more. There is no divinity here, no light. Only devilry and darkness. You all see, now, our sacred duty. We must march on and cleanse these lands! Spread word through the camp, men. Tell all of what we've seen. Haven is no city of progress like Olympus. Is it backward, dangerous. They must be overcome!"
The men roar again, and I see the captives look over, eyes showing no fear, only threat. The man at the front narrows his gaze, barring his teeth, sharpened to fangs. It only leads to further proclamations from Kovas, the crowd eating it up. And all the while, Perses stays silent.
I step over to him as the cacophony grows, the people caught up in the sudden, morbid rapture. "You believe what Kovas is saying?" I ask. "Why won't you correct him?"
Perses looks to his fellow Herald once again. "He's good at this. There's no harm in getting the men pumped up."
"Isn't there? Isn't he giving them false expectations of what sort of people they'll be fighting." I look again at the long-limbed creature struggling in the net. "This thing isn't anything to do with Haven. We'll be fighting experienced soldiers, not mutants like that. Or barbarians like them," I add, looking up as the prisoners are drawn into the camp.
"You're not giving our men enough credit. They know that well enough," Perses says. "They know that Haven defeated the Cure army, that they have some very powerful warriors among them. The story of Herald Nestor and his demise will not be easily forgotten. This is just...Kovas's way. He's building a hatred for our enemy, that's all. It'll help our less experienced soldiers be merciless when they have to be."
"But he's talking about obliteration and wiping them all out. It's nonsense, Perses. We're not here for that, are we?"
"Language can be tricky, Amber," he says calmly. "Our goal is to defeat the Haven threat, not murder an entire people. Don't read too much into what Kovas is saying. He has his ways, and they can be effective."
I look over at Herald Kovas now, smiling with a gap-toothed grin, still throatily leading the men in their roars and jeers. If I didn't like him before, I like him even less now. Where Perses is thoughtful and considerate, Kovas only seems...cruel. There's a ruthless streak in him that I don't like.
As I watch on, growing uneasy at the display as some of the soldiers begin to kick out at the netted creature, poke at it with their guns and knives, I see a fresh deluge of troops beginning to appear, drawn out by the commotion. Among them is Elian, glowing red, rushing forward with a trail of fire behind him. He speeds up towards the throng, and I find myself looking at him with a sudden, deep interest. A thought stirs as I see him. A thought that came before, when I wondered whether the Overseer knew of Jude's presence here in camp.
I wonder now, did he? Did Elian know that Jude was here too?
I probe at the matter as I look at him, feeling a growing distrust. He must have had a good look at Jude before I arrived to join him and those thugs. He must have clearly seen his face. The question is, did he know what Jude looked like?
Like the Overseer, it's hard to know, but something in me draws back just a little. Perhaps it's not even him. Perhaps it's merely seeing him again after seeing Jude, so brutalised and vulnerable, so hopeless and alone. Or maybe it's this scene right here that sets my nerves on edge, forcing me to withdraw, doubt other aspects of my life.
I find myself stepping a little closer to Perses's side, an instinctive move as Elian moves right in beside Kovas. He looks to the gruff man, who quickly fills him in on what happened, grinning as the men continue to tease and taunt the monster in the centre of the circle. And across that circle, I look at Elian, and find his eyes lifting to mine. My gaze turns into a brief glare, brows tightening to a frown.
Within me, a great displeasure starts to boil.
I feel a meaty hand drop to my shoulder. "Something wrong, Amber?" I snap from my dark reverie and find Perses looking down at me. "You seem...distant."
My eyes fall in thought, and I nod with the weight of the world upon me. "It's Jude," I say. "He's here, among the slaves."
Perses's thick fingers, lightly placed upon me, pull just a little to draw my eyes back up. I find him with a consoling frown above his eyes. "How did this happen?" he asks. "I take it you've just found out?"
"Just now, yes," I say. "He was branded Defiant and recruited from a retraining institution. It was him who those thugs beat up." My fists tighten to my sides, a puff of air escaping my nose.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Amber. Where is he now?"
"In the medical carriage for the Fringers, if you can call it that," I grunt. "You're more likely to catch a disease there than be cured of one."
"That's dreadful. Well, we'll have him moved to the proper infirmary immediately."
I look up in surprise, though perhaps shouldn't be. Perses has been well known to show lenience and kindness to even the most lowly among us. Might he change his tune when he hears of Jude's story?
No, he's already aware that he spoke heresy. He's merely doing this for me. And kind as it is, the bitter side of me knows the reason.
Focussed. He wants, and needs, me focussed.
"Thanks, Perses," I say. "I was actually going to see Lady Eloise before I heard gunshots. I'm glad to have your approval, though."
"Of course, Amber. What are his injuries like?"
"Not terrible. His arm's in a sling and he's got a nasty gash on his right cheek. It'll leave a bad scar, though I'm hoping Eloise can help."
"She'll be able to, I hope," he says, his hand swiftly rising to his chin as it does when he falls into thought. "How long ago was it, again? This attack?"
"A week, maybe."
"Hmmm. Well, hopefully she'll be able to work her magic. He'll scar, most likely, but not too severely. Look at these..." He lifts a finger to the scars on his face, a particularly deep one on his chin. "These would be much worse without accelerated healing. With help, they don't look so bad."
"They look bad enough to me," I say, managing a crooked smile.
Perses smiles back, totally unoffended. "Thanks for that, Amber. Mercifully, my looks aren't particularly important to me."
"Oh, you're still good looking, Perses. There's a rugged manliness to you. Hopefully Jude will see the same result. So, Eloise helped heal you, then?"
"Ah, no," he says. "I think I mentioned before that part of my power set includes accelerated healing. Lady Eloise is merely able to tap into the same gifts and use them on others. She's a rare breed, and a fine asset to have around here. Take your friend to her. She'll be only too happy to help. Not a shred of judgement in her, that one."
"I got the sense of that," I nod. "And this isn't going to cause a problem, sending a Fringer, and a heretic, no less, to be treated by an Olympian?"
Perses looks around and towards the wood, where some other figures still seem to be moving. Scouts, I assume, and other soldiers securing the perimeter from possible attack. "I think we all have bigger concerns right now. Best for him to get treatment before we see any real battle. Soon enough, she and her team might be inundated."
&nbs
p; I nod, my eyes flashing across at Elian once more. He catches my gaze and returns his own, confused and curious as to just what my problem is. We stand across the circle, him with Kovas, me with Perses, two gifted young Fire-Bloods and their mentors and masters. I'm Prime-damned happy that it's under Perses's tutelage and guidance that I've found myself. He's helped teach me humility, to respect my enemy, to always be careful and prepared, and never overthink one's abilities, no matter how invulnerable you may appear. Would I have received the same lessons from Herald Kovas? Might he have shaped me into something more altogether deadly and cruel?
The excitement, however, seems set to end. From across the circle, Kovas calls out again, ordering for the beast to be dragged off somewhere shady and slaughtered.
"We don't need the likes of that in camp," he says. "There's nothing we can learn from it. Put it down."
He glances past Perses, but doesn't stop to seek approval. I sense a growing animosity brewing between the two, as though there are certain elements of war and life in camp that they simply don't agree on. All of this will be new to them as well; to lead such a large force, to march thousands of miles towards such a potentially dangerous foe. The cracks are starting to appear, it would seem. The tension that accompanies this long, drawn out build up, seems to be getting to just about everyone.
The soldiers begin to move off, many hurrying after the net-draggers as they haul the monster into the open fields. There's a cruel excitement to how they're behaving that is unpleasant for me to witness. Yes, I find that thing as horrid as the next person, but why not just put a bullet in its head or a knife in its heart? Why torture and taunt the thing, draw out its death and make it suffer?
And in that moment, I recall my own authority here. No, I don't lead this army, but I am senior to all but a few. So I call out an order of my own, putting an end to the unnecessary wickedness.
"Make it quick," I shout after the men. They stop and turn to look at me. "Just shoot it in the head and be done with it. Save your energy for a real fight."
They don't look best pleased, and turn to Kovas for confirmation. Not Perses, but Kovas, the originator of the order. He nods, and they act quickly, snuffing out the whimpering thing's life with a single bullet, before trudging off towards the camp.
"Well done, Amber," Perses says. "It's good to show mercy, but be mindful of keeping order. You have to strike a fine balance between using your authority, and letting certain things slide to ensure morale remains high."
As always, I soak up his wisdom. It requires no response but a nod to show I understand.
"Sir," comes a voice from behind me. I spin and find Krun there, Perses's dutiful right hand man.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Should I set the order for the convoy to prepare for departure?"
Perses nods. "You know my mind, Captain Krun. We leave immediately, no time to waste. It's highly likely that Haven knows of our existence by now, even if they didn't already. We will travel through the night."
Krun nods his great dome of a head, turns, and spins off, roaring orders through his foghorn of a throat as he goes. Within seconds, the camp is being speedily disassembled, pots and pans and cooking utensils gathered up, campfires put out, carriages loaded and set to get moving.
I begin stepping off, preparing to return to Jude, but Perses stops me. "Not now, Amber," he says, knowing my mind. "There's too much going on. You can move Jude to the infirmary carriage tomorrow."
I sense the goodwill I have with Perses isn't to be tested now. That intimidating authority he harbours and carefully cultivates comes flowing from him in a pulsing aura. I can only nod and turn longingly to the far side of the base, before I'm forced to head back to Black Thunder under Perses's orders.
I head off, moving through camp as it prepares to leave in record time. I'm not surprised when I find Elian hurrying to my side, panting a little as he catches up with me.
"Wild, isn't it," he says. "All of this. Did you get a good look at that creature? I've never seen anything like it..."
"Yeah, I saw it," I grunt. "I was there too, Elian."
"I...I know. Is something wrong?"
I press on, seeking my adopted carriage. "Nothing. I just want to be alone right now."
"Have I done something?" he asks. There's a very real concern to his voice. "Is everything OK?"
I spin on him sharply, Black Thunder just behind me. "Did you know?" I ask firmly. "Please tell me you didn't."
His bewilderment is unmistakable and entirely sincere. "Know what? I don't know what you're talking about?"
I shake my head and turn, storming off, indulging in my irrational temper. He catches me again as I reach Black Thunder and climb the steps, trying to follow me up.
I turn and push him back. "Not tonight," I say. "I need to be alone." My eyes flick towards Worldshaker. "You can stay with Kovas."
"Amber, what the hell is this? OK, so you need your space and that's fine. But at least tell me what you're talking about."
I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."
He grabs me as I turn. "No, tell me!"
I spin on him again, my cheeks flushing, my chest heaving. "Jude!" I say, the name storming from my lips. "Jude is here! Jude was the one who was beaten! Now answer me honestly...Did. You. Know?"
I stare daggers, the eyes of a hawk upon its prey, but find them quickly repelled. My rage, the boiling anger, it all seems suddenly ridiculous to be directing it at Elian. I see immediately that he had no idea about any of this, that he hardly even knows the significance of Jude to me, let alone what he looks like. I see it, but I still don't care. I still need to be alone.
"I...no, I had no idea. Jude, your friend from home? The one who..."
"Yes, the one who," I snap, committing to the tantrum. "He's here. He's a slave. He's my best friend in the world and he's digging ditches, while I'm here in luxury. I hate it, Elian. I hate it all. I just want to go home..."
I turn with that, and step inside the carriage, slamming the door behind me. Heavy pants press through my lips, and outside, I see the shadow of Elian linger a moment, moving back and forward to the door, reaching to the handle and then withdrawing. After a few rotations, he finally gives in, moving turgidly away towards Worldshaker, likely wondering just what the hell just happened.
And truth be told, so do I. I already know that I'll need to apologise. I know that this isn't his fault, or anyone else's. Except maybe mine.
And perhaps that's why I'm so angry.
I try to sleep that night, but fail to any proper degree. I get the odd wink but nothing more, my mind accosted, my hurrying heart rate refusing to relent. As the convoy continues on, and our soldiers prime for war, I sit and pace and storm and think, my mind slipping back home, thousands of miles away. Thinking of simpler times, and simpler people. Jude, Lilly, grandma, even the parents who I still love without condition.
That night, I regret ever being set upon this path.
A regret that, come morning, I'll need to forget all over again.
Because, no matter how I like it, this is my path now. One I'll struggle to ever get off.
79
I spend most of the day next day alone, stuck within the confines of Black Thunder, unable to get out. The route we take is winding, narrow, hard for some of the transports to get through. Ahead, our scouts continue to design a route that we can work with. A little bit of trimming is required, but not much, the usual suspects travelling at the front of the convoy to carve a large path whenever one is needed.
Where I thought only trees could be uprooted, and cars flung aside to clear our path, I find myself mistaken. Entering into a field of large rocks and narrow fissures, our Forgers and Earth-Shakers are sent out to work, reshaping the solid structures with their telekinetic powers, altering their form as they did when creating the grand sculptures of the Prime, and others, upon the Sacred Plains.
We never stop, however, the forward scouts always far enough ahead to determine just where
our team of path-reshapers are needed. By the time the convoy gets there, the new route has been expanded, allowing for quick passage. It's efficient for the army, but frustrating for me. I only want the train to stop so I can get off, go and see Jude, and see him to the infirmary.
Elian, too, could do with an apology, though that remains of a slightly lower priority.
Higher on my list, perhaps, is the need to rest. I'll be no good right now - or, should I say, I'll be less effective - if we were to run into trouble. I take the opportunity, therefore, to try to sleep as the hours wear on. It isn't easy, busy as my mind is, and tense as I'm becoming with the city of Haven so near.
Yet, the reports are a little more positive. That afternoon, climbing up into the moving carriage as it trundles through rocky canyons, Perses delivers to me an update on proceedings. The scouts, apparently, have made it to the city, and have recorded no troop movements whatsoever. A great facade stands blocking it off, though not as grand as that which surrounds Olympus. Beyond it, there's no knowing what's there, yet aside from a few watchers upon the walls, there seems to be little visible activity.
It's a positive start, at the least. We might just march upon a city unprepared, one still licking its wounds from the war not long past. Yet, as is always the case, Perses remains cautious.
"Whatever we can see," he tells me, "might be only an illusion. Our Farsights cannot penetrate walls with their vision. The display of such sparse numbers of soldiers upon the walls could simply be misdirection. We have no knowledge, as yet, of exactly what lies beyond."
Eventually, we reach a rather more serious blockage that slows the entire convoy to a halt. It might be better late than never, but I'm finally invited to join in a short discussion with the leaders of the army. It occurs at the front of the convoy, the blockade just ahead. As with many such hindrances, it's a portion of woodland, set within the shadows of a great mountain to the west. Yet there's something different about it too. A sinister energy abounds, the forest thick and tangled with vines and creepers, the air close and murky and foul to the senses.