by T. C. Edge
Outside, we convene for a short meeting to determine our course ahead. Along with the Heralds, the Chosen gather, Elian included. I decide to take my opportunity to apologise to him, rather regretting my behaviour the previous evening, but find him in a mood as foul as the woods ahead of us.
His usually bright eyes are dark, ringed by circles. His golden hair is sweaty and lank, not shiny and luxuriant as it typically is. My immediate thought is that he hasn't slept at all, a night of tossing and turning brought on, perhaps, by my petulant actions the previous night. If that's the case, then he's far more sensitive than I thought. It's proof, if ever I needed it, that he's truly pained by my continuing mistrust and hurtful insinuations.
I regard him as I approach, preparing my apology and trying to shape my expression into something that shows my contrition. Yet, I find his eyes squarely away from me, looking elsewhere. I follow his brooding gaze across the gathering group, and my eyes pass by Herald Kovas, who looks at Elian with the hint of a smile on his face from the rear of the congregation, his ugly visage coiled into something sinister that I don't particularly like.
Yet, Elian isn't looking back at Kovas.
No, he only has eyes for one. They stare daggers, narrow, intensely threatening, directed right to the front of the gathering.
And their target is Herald Perses.
I take the scene in, as the rest gather around, murmuring as they look at the dense patch of woodland ahead. No one else seems to notice, or care. Certainly, Perses appears to have no idea that Elian is secretly regarding him with such fury. When he does finally turn his eyes in the young Fire-Blood's direction, I see Elian drop and turn his gaze away, not wanting his ire to be witnessed.
Curious, I step forward, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, the appropriate words of my apology finally popping to mind. I don't, however, get the chance to fully utter them. As I step forward, my stage set, and begin with, "Elian, I'm so sorry about what I..." he merely grunts and walks away, muttering something under his breath and moving to the back of the group, where he can brood without anyone seeing him.
I stand, brows lifted in a state of surprise and offence. If this is about me, then it's definitely a major overreaction. My instinct tells me that something much darker is tormenting his mind.
The start of the meeting, however, snatches up my attention, a gathering of all the senior members of the army, with the likes of Krun and Hestia included. I find myself saddling up close to Hestia for comfort, taking position within the semi-circle that forms, Perses at the front and leading the discussion, Elian resolutely to the back and seemingly not willing to take part.
The major talking point, of course, involves our path ahead. For the first time, it seems, the thoughts of the entire group will be taken into account, the decision not taken entirely by Perses and the Heralds.
"We have two options," he tells us, standing broad and tall, wreathed in colourless black. I look, quickly, at Elian again as Perses speaks, simmering at the rear. And Herald Kovas, at one edge of the circle, glancing sinisterly between the two. "To go through, or go around. Our scouts have made it through both ways. They report that these woods will take some work to get through, but will likely be the quicker option. They don't last long. Short, but dense, I hear. The route around will delay us by a day or two at leat, and may give Haven more time to prepare for our arrival."
An answer comes swift and light, the sultry voice of the Chosen Phaser, Lady Dianna on the air, her striking white hair lit up by the sun, her eyes a sparkling green to match her armour. "We go through," she says, never doubting her own authority. There's a definite air of superiority about her, even in such company. A fact, perhaps, down to her beauty, which I must admit is spellbinding for a woman of her age. "We've been tearing up woods and roads for weeks, and are well practiced at it. The route, as you say, is shorter, both in distance and time. It is the only viable option."
A few people murmur and nod.
An alternative is proposed by Herald Avon, the most youthful, barring me, of the Heralds of War. Slim, lithe, and classically handsome, I don't think I've ever spotted a scar on his body. I know, by now, that he's one of the finest Farsights among all the Olympians, with speed to all but match Lady Dianna, and a durability that, apparently, makes him almost invulnerable. No wonder, then, that he has no scars. Just drawing blood from the man would be a challenge.
He eyes the group, his gaze keen as anything, and lets his pleasantly soft voice spread among us. "Our men are tired," he says. "And those who are tasked with clearing the path are some of our most potent warriors. It would be better to have them rested on arrival, not exhausted, I say."
"Then they can rest when we arrive, and not before," says Dianna. "We'll get all hands on deck, and see the job done. Many hands make light work, Herald Avon. I see no reason to delay."
"And these creatures?" says Taranus, Chosen Skymaster, dressed in his combat robes of white, blue and yellow, though more muted and dulled than those of the ceremonial robes he'd wear in Olympus. Out here, of course, it doesn't always pay to stand out too brightly, a fact that the Overseer, watching proceedings with a certain element of glee, might want to remember. "Might they not cluster in a place like that?" Taranus goes on, eyeing the woods carefully. "It could be dangerous for our men."
"They're nothing but beasts," grunts Herald Kovas in response. "They'll scatter with all the commotion."
I frown. That wasn't what he suggested yesterday, when they captured one of the things.
"Didn't you say these things were working with the Havenites?" I ask him. My question, quite direct, still seems to surprise people. Not necessarily the question, exactly, but the fact that I uttered it. I remain a child here among adults, really.
"I made that suggestion, yes," Kovas responds, slightly dismissive in his tone. "But only to stoke up the men. You don't truly think I believe that, do you child?"
I shrug. "I wouldn't put it past you."
His eyes narrow, that wide, bulbous nose of his flattening out as his nostrils flare.
"Master Taranus does have a point, though," comes Perses's calming, authoritative voice. "The woods might be crawling. Our scouts reported numerous signs of these creatures, but it's not necessarily them who we need to be concerned about. Of far greater concern are the wild men who seem to reside in these regions. We caught and killed a number of them last night in a short skirmish, but have little knowledge of their numbers and capabilities. They may be more than mere men. Dark deities are more common than we all think."
"And, have you interrogated them yet?" asks Dianna. "These savages?"
"Yes, we have. The Overseer has spent time with them, but with little result. They appear to have a natural immunity to his mental intrusions."
All eyes turn to the Overseer, who steps forward. No one else does so when speaking, but he does like to be the centre of attention. "Yes, it's true," he says. "Some people have a strong resistance to telepathy, and these savages appear to be among that number. It could have been passed through their bloodlines for generations, or may have developed for another reason. Either way, information is hard to come by through such means."
"Then beat it out of them," says Atlas, Chosen Titan, his booming voice almost blowing us all over. "Give Krun and me five minutes and we'll see what we can do." He looks to Krun, and the two giants nod at one another. I imagine their mere presence would be intimidating enough to crack open a few lips.
"We have tried that too, Atlas," says Perses. "They're as immune to pain and torture as they are telepathic extraction. They are extremely hardy folk, and we'll be unlikely to get anything useful from them for some time. Though we will, of course, keep trying. They may have information about the city that could prove useful."
"So, what's the verdict then?" asks Herald Avon. "Did our scouts encounter any more of these tribespeople in the woods?"
"Not directly, no," says Perses. "There were, however, further signs that they live there, or once
did. They came across an old settlement, now abandoned. And there are reports, too, of strange animals and beasts aside from the mutant forms of men. They found tracks that suggest animals far larger than previously known to reside here, bears and wolves and other such beasts. It seems a dangerous place."
"Dangerous?" scoffs Kovas, huffing out the word. "Perses, we all know that you're a cautious man when it comes to the safety of your men, but please, none of this is of any real concern. We are dealing with flies to be swatted and nothing more. The real threat lies beyond these woods, and we'd be best getting there as soon as possible. Delaying will not serve our cause, even by a day. We marched here to strike fast, hard, and without warning. I doubt we can do the latter, but we can certainly manage the former. Haven will be aware of us, there's no doubt about that. It's time to use blunt force and show them what we're capable of." He looks around the group, his words strangely inspiring. "We tear through these woods, and go direct. They'll be expecting us to go around. Let's surprise them, shall we?"
He waits to see who's support he has, Lady Dianna the first to give it. She nods quickly, and claps her hand together. "Hear, hear," she says loudly. "It pains me a touch, but I agree with Herald Kovas." I see Kovas scowl a little at the remark. Evidently, they don't get along too well. "Now, shall we take it to a vote, Perses?"
Perses looks left and right, before dipping his head in agreement. He seems more unsure of things than I'd suspect, the weight of leading this great army, and perhaps seeing the brewing signs of dissent, starting to bear him down. I wonder, in fact, why he's summoned us at all. Why not just take the decision himself to expedite things?
The answer is clear enough, given what I've witnessed. He is starting to see his leadership challenged. To take a unilateral decision now, with lives potentially at risk, would only serve to alienate those who are starting to question him.
The vote that follows shows a mixture of opinion. Kovas, Dianna, Atlas, the mute Herald Gailen, Hestia, and Elian immediately raise their hands to plough straight through. On the other side, Taranus, Avon, Krun - most likely as a show of loyalty to Perses, and perhaps because he's sick and tired of uprooting trees - and I vote to take the long route. For my own part, I also do it in allegiance to my master, though the idea of taking a little more time to spend with Jude, and see him back to health, is also on my mind.
The Overseer, of course, deliberates for a while for effect, before joining the ranks of the latter group.
That leaves a count of six to go through, and five to go around, with only Perses's vote remaining.
I don't know if it's merely to avoid a stalemate, because he actually believes it, or because he'd rather not incite the growing discontent of Herald Kovas and the others, but Perses eventually decides on the direct path through the woods. It's a nice touch, in a way and at the very least, that he, effectively, still has the final vote.
The decision made, the group disbands, further talk of battle tactics and fighting orders to be left for when we arrive outside of the city. The plan, then, is to barge through this intimidatingly claustrophobic forest, get to the other side, and then make a more permanent camp somewhere outside of the city.
Once again, those tasked with forging our new route are summoned, accompanied by a large group of protective soldiers, set to create a secure perimeter within the woods for them as they work. I see Krun shake his head and look wearily towards the trees, seeming to dread further manual labour. Atlas, on the other hand, appears eager to get started immediately, marching to the nearest tree, hugging its great trunk tight, and hauling it straight out of the ground in a magnificent display of raw, unfathomable power. He then places it to his shoulder, and launches it to one side, the branches snapping and cracking as it crashes to the floor.
"Right, come on then!" he booms in the direction of Krun and the other Titan soldiers, appearing from the parked convoy. "What are you weaklings waiting for!"
As the Titans begin the arduous task of ripping up trees, and the telekenetics step in to provide aid, I find myself with some time, finally, to kill before the convoy moves off again. Around the vast collection of carriages, soldiers rush to take watch, as they do each time we stop, and those who serve their needs quickly begin to set fires on which to cook.
I watch the place rise to action, my eyes turning to the glowing frame of Elian as he lingers and broods, watching things from outside Worldshaker as Perses directs the men, stepping in to lend his own aid. The usual glow that accompanies him, that warming mix of orange and golden yellow, takes on a darker form. It simmers a cool blue instead, not hot, but freezing cold, his dark mood seeming to naturally bring out his Frost-Blood abilities.
They're those I'm yet to fully develop, but which Elian has clearly mastered. He stands, surrounded by a faint cloud of frozen air, the ground around him growing hard as it ices over. I being moving towards him, quite distressed to see him like this, but am halted by a voice to my side.
"I'd leave him for now. Let him brood it out."
I turn to find Hestia there, hanging around after the meeting, and looking typically stern. Over the past few days, she's begun to tighten up again, my attempts to loosen her up going back in reverse. It's not, however, to do with me, I know. It's merely her way as a warrior; the closer we get to battle, the more intense and focussed she becomes.
"Do you know what his problem is?" I ask.
She shrugs. "He's a man. Could be anything. Maybe this is just his way of preparing. He hasn't seen battle before like you. It affects all of us differently, and takes some getting used to. Some, more than others," she adds, nodding to me with some measure of respect.
I nod as well in thanks and understanding, though imagine that fear of battle isn't the reason for Elian's sudden state of desolation. She isn't privy, of course, to all the drama that's been going on, so doesn't have all the information to make a proper, well informed judgement.
"Maybe," is all I manage. "We're meant to fight together, though. How are we going to do it with him like this?"
"He'll be fine," Hestia assures me. "Look, Elian's a smart young man, and he'll get himself sorted. Anyway, I doubt we'll be seeing much fighting for a while. These things often last longer than you think."
"You speaking from experience or is this just speculation?"
"A mixture of both, I guess. I'm not going to lie and say I've been part of something as large as this, but I've had my fair share of battle. You don't just arrive at a huge city and storm right in. Perses will have formed a plan to ensure we strike with as few casualties as possible."
"And what about diplomacy?" I ask. "Wouldn't it be smart to sit down and talk first?"
"Smart, perhaps," huffs Hestia, "but I don't think we've marched all this way to talk. This isn't all about pre-empting a threat Haven might pose, as we've discussed before."
"Yeah, I know," I say, my voice lacking spirit. "It sounds like we're the bad guys."
"Come on, Amber. Bad guys? Good guys? There's no such thing. Just points of view. We're all just fighting for survival here. If taking these lands for ourselves helps Olympus survive, and even thrive, then it's our responsibility to make it happen. You've seen what sort of men, and creatures, roam these lands. Herald Kovas is right when he says they need cleansing."
"Yeah, well, it still makes me a bit uncomfortable. I'm sensing some friction between Kovas and Perses. They clearly look at things very differently."
"Kovas has been in Perses's shadow for a long, long time," nods Hestia, looking over towards the woods, at the frantic operation now being undertaken. "This is his chance to have his voice heard, to force his own influence. The Heralds rarely work together, and usually it's much smaller raids and missions. This is something completely different. It's bound to test loyalties, reveal elements of people's character that, I don't know, we might not have seen before."
I nod, quite surprised by her wisdom. It's about the most I've ever heard her talk in succession on this entire trip. Usually she's
got little to say besides the odd pithy comment. To hear her talk like this, well, it certainly reveals something about her character. She's got more to her than I thought.
I consider making some pithy remark of my own. Something along the lines of, 'wow, you've found your tongue', but decide against it. It might only deter her from being so honest again. I rather like this side of her.
"I guess I'm just overthinking things," I say eventually. "I think I worry unduly sometimes." The introspection brings Jude back into my head, still lingering over in that decrepit excuse for an infirmary. If anyone needs my help right now - if there's anyone for me to truly worry about - it's him. And with this window opening up, I need to see to his transfer.
So I leave Hestia there, telling her that I've got something I need to see to, and suggesting, if she gets the chance, to try to see if she can't shake Elian from his mood. She clearly doesn't like the idea, so I frame it as an order instead.
"Just ask him about operations. Talk about tactics for you and the Fire-Bloods. Just, I don't know, get him back on track, OK?"
She begrudgingly agrees, unable to deny me when I put my 'Herald' hat on. I don't particularly like doing it, but frankly, I need to be able to separate friendship with orders, and exercise my authority when needed.
So off she goes on her mission.
And off I go on mine.
80
I'm greeted by a tip of the hat, an old gentlemanly gesture from days gone by that few people perform these days. It comes along with a reverential bow, Ralph's old back groaning as he bends.
"Don't trouble yourself, Ralph," I say. "Not on my account."
"Yes, Mistress Herald. I don't get too many like you around here. Kinda nice to show the proper respect for once."