by T. C. Edge
"Ralph!" I say. "Where's Jude? Do you know where he is?"
My voice is growing manic, almost coarse. Away in the distance, I can hear the sounds of battle starting to weaken. Maybe our forces are driving theirs back off? If that's the case, I don't have much time...
I stare at the old medic, no cigarette in his mouth right now. He seems shocked by my sudden arrival, by the flowing, raging fire swirling around my armour, my limbs.
"Herald...Amber," he croaks.
"Yes, it's me!" I shout. "Where is Jude!"
A soft voice comes from behind the old man. My eyes rip up to the doorway into the carriage.
"I'm here. I'm right here, Amber."
"Jude!"
I fly forward, Ralph desperately clawing himself away, my body still burning bright. Jude shields himself, ducking. I skid to a stop, take a few breaths, and draw the fire back in. Immediately my flaming body douses to a quiet, muted shimmer of orange and red.
"What's going on, Amber?" Jude says, looking at me, standing back up tall.
"We're leaving," I say immediately. "Come on, let's go." My eyes fall again to Ralph. A thought rushes to mind. "Come with us," I say. "Come with us, Ralph."
He looks directly at me, the confusion settling, replaced by a knowing expression. "I can't," he says, grinning softly. "Much as I'd love to, Mistress. I'd only slow you down, old fella like me."
"That's not true," I say. "We'll help you, right Jude? Right?"
I look to Jude, now catching up with my purpose. He nods, pensively, something in his eyes. "I hoped you'd come," he says. "I thought you would..."
"What? Jude, I'm talking about Ralph, getting him out..."
"He isn't coming," Jude says, shaking his head. "He never was."
"Never...was? I...I don't understand, Jude."
His eyes briefly turn up, over my shoulder. I spin around and see, behind me, a host of others there watching, waiting, men and women of decent stock and strength, a host of slaves here among the army.
"I...what's happening?" I ask.
Jude picks up a bag from his feet, hauling it onto his back. I look at the others again, and see them similarly dressed, loaded with whatever sturdy clothes they've scavenged, some carrying small packs on their backs, filled perhaps with supplies and rations.
"We're leaving," Jude says. "We're not living as slaves anymore."
"You've...planned this all along?" I look at him in shock. "All this time?"
"Why do you really think I was volunteering, Amber?" he says. "To help others? Yes, but in a bigger way than I made out. All of us here are Defiants, slaves, nothing but dirt to the Olympians. We're going into the wilds to build a better life. We're not staying here anymore."
He moves past me, stepping towards them. I notice that a couple of them have weapons, scavenged perhaps from the main camp during the fighting. Ahead, not too far away, I see a couple of guards manning the shield. From nowhere, a bunch of workers hurry, appearing from around a carriage, launching themselves upon the two men, overpowering them with a raw, unexpected violence, stabbing at them with knives and shivs. I look on, slightly horrified, as Jude lays a hand on my shoulder.
"I knew you'd come, Amber," he says, smiling. "I just knew..."
"I..."
"No time now," he says, stepping away, looking upon his gathered troop. There must be several dozen of them, the bravest, hardiest, most lowly and disgruntled slaves of all. He nods, leading them, crafting a role out here I'd never have expected. Ahead, I notice that the slaves are now working to open the shield, feverishly trying to figure out the controls.
"Don't worry," Jude says, addressing the group. "They'll have it open. We've been watching. We know how it works."
His eyes work to mine again, shining bright, his chin and cheeks heavily stubbled and dark, his hair swept back. His clothes aren't as tattered as before. Somehow, he's managed to fashion himself into a version of what he was before; the hunter, the young man of the woods.
Perhaps, out there, he'll be able to find a new life...
I don't let the thought settle or take hold. It won't happen, I know. They'll be hunted, tracked down, killed in a day. And even if they did manage to escape, how long would they really last out there? A week? A month? More?
No, I can't let this happen. There is...another way.
I move to his side, and pull him away from the group.
"Where are you going?" I ask hurriedly. "What exactly is the plan?"
"To head through the woods," he says. "Go as far from here as we can, set up a new life where we can be free."
I look at him, so saddened, yet so endeared by the idealism of it all. I begin to slowly shake my head.
"What's that look?" he asks, frowning. "You think we're mad? You think it's too dangerous out there, that we won't survive? Hell, Amber, we've thought of all of that. We know it'll be hard, but we're willing to try. Anything is better than this."
Ahead, I notice the shield beginning to shimmer, its blue energy fading as it's deactivated. The slaves there buzz energetically. Jude turns to the rest, calling quietly for them to go, to hurry out into the woods.
"Quickly now," he says. "Quickly. Quietly."
As they rush off, he marches quickly towards Ralph, drawing the old man from his perch on the step. "Thank you, Ralph, for everything," he says. "I wish you'd come too. You shouldn't spend your final months here."
"I know, son," says Ralph softly. He looks at Jude fondly, as a father would a son. "I'd only slow you down. Be safe out there. And be careful. There ain't much good in this world, but if there is, you'll find it." He draws him into a quick hug. "Good luck."
Jude steps back, a profound look of thanks in his eyes, before turning abruptly and moving away. He takes my arm, drawing me on with him. Before I even know what's happening, I'm being led out past the shield, into the woods on the other side, moving away from the camp, the city, the battleground beyond.
That old power, that old flame that used to burn so bright in Jude, it's back. He has a purpose now, something to drive him, to inspire him. To help these people get free. To help them survive.
Yet, I know it isn't the way. I know, out there, they'll never survive.
"Jude, you have to stop," I say, looking ahead at the slaves, shuffling off through the trees. "There's another way. A better way."
"What?" he asks hurriedly. "What is there, Amber."
"Haven," I say. "They are good people there. They will take you all in, and keep you safe. I know they will. I know it, Jude."
"How? How do you know it?" he asks, his voice rising in volume. "And even if you're right, the city is at war. How can they protect us if they can't protect themselves?" He shakes his head, earning his tag, Defiant. "No, Amber, we are on our own. We can only rely on ourselves now."
"Jude!" I implore. "You will not survive!"
"And are we surviving now?" he growls. "We're all dead already. Anything is better than this. But with you with us, we'll be OK. You'll be able to protect us. Together, we can lead these people to safety."
I stop there, in the glade, the sunshine continuing to brighten. It sparkles down through the trees, the leaves shimmering with dew. I feel a heavy weight in my gut as I look at him, marching on, so full of purpose.
He seems to notice I'm no longer beside him. He stops, turns, looks upon me.
A realisation spreads across his handsome face, his moody eyes falling under a frown. "You're...not coming with us, are you?" he says.
I stay silent, my mind so troubled. I feel like I'm being torn in two, stretched left and right, unable to know which way to go.
"I..."
He nods, staring at me, watching me a moment as the words fail to come.
"Please," I say. " Go to Haven. It's the only place you might be safe. You can...you can work around the city, wait until the fighting dies down. They'll let you in. They'll protect you. I'm certain they will, Jude..."
He steps towards me. His voice is gentle when he speak
s. "And you?" he asks.
My mind fills with war, with the battle down below. I left Elian there to fight alone, our bond ripped apart. How is that any better than him leaving me in those woods? How is it different?
If he's still alive, I have to go back. If I can save him, I have to try.
But first...
"Please, go to Haven," I repeat, not answering. "Promise me you will. Promise me that and I'll come and join you," I lie. "Promise me, Jude."
He can see through me, see the lies. He knows me far too well. "You haven't answered my question, Amber." Then, suddenly, he knows, and a faint smile, with its signature, lopsided slant, appears on his face. "It's Elian, isn't it?" he says. "You won't leave him, will you?"
"No...it's not...it's not that. Not exactly. He's down there fighting, Jude. He might already be dead. I...I don't know. I have to know. I have to...I have to go back."
He takes me into his arms to calm me, instantly wrapping me up. "It's OK," he whispers. "It's OK, Amber. I understand. You have to do what you have to do. Just like I do."
I pull away, tears building. "You promise, then?" I ask. "I can't leave without knowing you'll try, without knowing you might be safe."
I can see it in his eyes, that he wants to say, 'Then don't go. Stay here with us. We can build a new life together.'
He says none of those words. All he does is nod, and smile again more sincerely, his lips whispering the words I want, I need, to hear.
"I promise, Amber," he says.
I don't even know if I believe them, but I need to hear them anyway.
Slowly, staring into his eyes, and with cheeks stained by tears, I step back, before I weaken...and rush back into the fray.
109
I tumble along, my legs burning, my eyes stinging from tears. With a flash of fire, I set myself ablaze, singeing the dew from my eyes, scorching off the weakness that looks set to infect me.
I've done what I needed to do with Jude. He is with others, now, and he is safe. How long it will last, I don't know. Whether he'll try to get to Haven, I don't know either. All I know is that I've done all I can, without, really, doing anything at all.
No, Amber, I tell myself. He doesn't really need you anymore. Maybe he never really did....
I turn my mind elsewhere, needing to trust that Jude will be OK. He has instincts for the woods, skills that most don't. If anyone can survive out there, perhaps he can...
My mind flicks, turning instead to Elian now. I rush, bursts of flame pressing me on, my attention and focus on getting back as soon as possible. It takes barely moments before the camp comes back into view. My eyes take in the open shield, one of the sections deactivated by the slaves. Several others are now sensing an opportunity to flee their bondage, grabbing what they can - weapons, clothing, rations - and rushing off into the woods.
I watch as several of them hurry off together. They don't get far as a couple of patrolling soldiers spot them, speeding after them, calling for them to halt. They turn, panic, and rush ever faster away. The soldiers react by firing, cutting them up, killing them in an instant.
The sight is shocking, setting a new fear within me. I try to ignore the idea of the same happening to Jude as I rush onwards, past the camp, heading towards the hills and sparse woods ahead.
Beyond, the battle still crackles on, though less ferociously now. I can't tell whether that means the Havenites have retreated, or half the soldiers have already been killed. I still have no idea of how the battle is truly going, who holds the balance of power, who is in the ascendancy.
It doesn't matter, I tell myself. Not now.
I pace onwards, my exertion starting to tell, the tension building to critical points in my body. I feel the steady spread of fatigue running through my legs, every burst of flame serving to weaken me now. I slow by necessity, using my energy more sparingly. Ahead, the sight of the fissures and cracks, the shallow chasms in the earth begin to appear. My eyes fall upon the place where I left Elian, where I abandoned him to fight alone...
I burst again, renewed at the thought, driving myself onwards. I spot the faint sight of soldiers to one side, the area around the wall still harbouring the most intense fighting. Ahead, in the far distance, the huge city of Haven looms, its walls spreading left and right across the horizon. To the far right, barely close enough to see, I can just about make out the breach caused by our artillery. I get the sense of movement across the plains, a host of soldiers rushing that way, others moving in another direction, across the wall to the left.
It looks to me like the Havenites are retreating, moving back from the battle. Saving what forces they have remaining to fight another day.
But it could be just the opposite. It could be our own forces advancing.
I just can't tell.
I just don't care.
I continue running, heading for the shallow canyon. I turn my eyes down, searching through the gorge. There, the walls on either side gently slope, growing less deep, opening out into the plains below, the city walls far in the distance.
I drop down as Elian did, using another burst of flame to slow me. I get it slightly wrong, not slowing my descent enough. I land heavily, my right ankle threatening to turn as I hit the loose rocks below. I pulse fire there to steady it on instinct, avoiding a twist or break. A rush of pain works through me, easily ignored and quickly dismissed.
I send my eyes down the canyon, the walls looming on either side. Sprinting over rocks and smaller stones, I move as quickly as possible towards the end, the plains gradually opening out ahead. Down below, at my feet, I notice faint scorch marks made by Elian's feet. I follow the trail, rushing, panting, breaking out onto the field...
I skid, slowing, my heart thundering at the sight ahead of me. I see Atlas, now a mountain, lying dead upon the earth. His horde of Titan followers are the same, smaller peaks within the range. They lie, scattered, among many others, bodies littering the plains and grasslands, spreading all across as far as the eye can see.
Some shine and sparkle, Neoromans fallen so far from home. Others are shadows, now shades, their life-force stolen. Among them lie many more, regular soldiers on both sides, dots upon the earth, a carnage too terrible to imagine.
I move out, slowly, looking ahead. Though many lie dead, others still live. They hurry and rush about, some in retreat, others filled with a lust for battle, seeking further prey.
Yet right there upon the plains, my eyes fall only on two. One, standing tall and upright, resplendent and silver. The other, crouched low, exhausted, yet still radiant and gold...
Elian.
He's there, on his knees, a faint shield of golden fire still swirling around him. The grass beneath is blackened and dead. Everything nearby is the same, killed by great blasts of fire and heat. Attempts, I know, to kill the man who stands before him, a seemingly impossible task.
Only a dozen or so metres away, Ares looks on, his sword sheathed, his armour glinting brightly beneath the rising sun. He begins to step forward, marching towards his foe. I watch, paralysed for a moment, as Elian lifts his hands, so weak now, and sends a flood of fire in the man's direction.
It rushes for the great Neoroman, but doesn't hit. I see only a phasing silver light, drawing up a shroud of dust in its wake, flashing away and reappearing...right behind Elian's back.
I draw a breath into my lungs, my legs working back into a run. I burst myself forward, using whatever I have, emptying the tanks as I vainly try to help him. Link our signatures. Renew our bond. Escape this place, this madness, this man who seems set to kill us all.
Elian looks finished, his light now starting to fade. He sits up on his knees, staring forward at the empty space ahead. He knows Ares is behind him, now placing a hand to the hilt of his great sword. Slowly, carefully, he withdraws it, preparing to see to the young man's execution.
I watch, in terror, knowing I'll never get there. Knowing I'll have to watch him die, just as I did Perses.
And knowing, too, tha
t I'll quickly join them both.
I can almost hear the scraping sound of metal as Ares unsheathes his mighty sword. I want to call out and cry, but find my words absent. My throat is raw, my vision already blurring. I blink the renewed tears away, wiping a hand across my brow, lifting my palms forward to let loose what final fire I can muster.
The fire inside has failed me. The beast within is almost dead...
I charge, working everything I have into that single attack. No more boosts of fire. No more shield at all. Just this one, final attack, upon the man about to kill my friend.
The flames draw up from my core, working around the tops of my arms, swirling and coiling and spiralling down towards the end, gathering into a great ball of fire to engulf him. It builds and builds, a raging mass of swirling death between my palms, preparing to be set loose. Preparing to hunt, one last time...
A flash works across my vision.
A flash of red, darting by.
I find my eyes turning to the right, see a shadow of a figure moving past. I see red. A flash of green. And then, suddenly, something clunks into my head.
It hits, hard, right on my temple, causing my vision to immediately blur. I feel wobbly, feel my hands fall. The raging fire withdraws and dissipates, fading along with my sight.
At my feet, a small glint of silver drops. I focus on it, my body wavering left and right, ready to fall. A knife, small and sharp, silver on the blade, dark grey on the handle. I reach up to my temple. No warmth. No blood.
No, it was the handle that hit me, not the blade...
I drop to the floor, unable to stay upright any longer. My eyes flicker, the darkness closing in. I look ahead, lying on my side, to see Elian still there on his knees.
Behind him, a silver shadow. A long blade in his hand.
My vision shuts down, my brain going with it. I manage to reach out my hand, as though able to touch him. "Elian," I croak, as the world closes in. "Elian...
His light fades, flicking out like a candle, as my eyesight does the same.