by T. C. Edge
My lips tease into a grateful smile, my eyes glistening to see her again, to hear her voice and comforting words. I had my doubts, my dark moments when I wondered why she didn't reveal her past to me. Now, that doesn't seem relevant. It wasn't long ago, but life was different then. I have seen war now. I have seen the truth. I trust her wholly and completely. Her past as Chosen Fire-Blood, stripped of her title and banished from the city, has merely led her to this time, this place.
This moment.
"Is...that why you're here?" I ask softly. "Did you know I'd come back?"
"I heard rumours, only," she tells me. "I managed to get information from a few soldiers a day or so ago, further away to the west. I heard that the army was returning, that some of the Heralds and Chosen were captured or lost. But me being here, right now?" she shakes her head. "A happy coincidence, darling. I was here for another reason."
I frown, looking at her. "What?"
"To fight," she says, her expression hardening. "The Fringe has been waking, Amber. The Prime's influence is beginning to wane. Across the southern border, and even further north, many towns have begun to rise up. Rebellion has been brewing for some time. With the army away, the remaining military forces have struggled to maintain their grip."
She turns to look upon the flaming warehouses, crackling violently as they're eaten away. "Several days ago, they started taking our food stocks. Towns, not even those involved in the uprising, were raided for their supplies by their own people. Others were burned. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, have been killed by the soldiers who were meant to protect them. They didn't even have to resist," she growls. "It's been wanton murder, Amber. A shadow of the devil has swept over these lands."
I stare at her, as the flames begin to swirl around her more energetically. Beneath her flaming garments, I see old Fire-Blood robes adorning her body. I wonder if she's had them all along, tucked away in her cabin. A keepsake of a time gone by. A reminder, perhaps, of what she was.
And what she would become again.
"I came here to help," she goes on. "They started at the western and eastern reaches of the Fringe, and began working in. I knew that Hunter's Station had a large supply depot of its own, so came here to do what I could. I had others with me, other brave souls who had had enough." She drops her eyes. "They were killed by the Olympian soldiers. More were sent to find me." Her eyes move towards the alleyway nearby. "I took great pleasure in dealing with them."
"So that's why you came here?" I whisper. "To stop them taking our food and supplies?"
She nods slowly. "Perhaps it was always going to be futile," she says. "The common people can't do much against these soldiers. But they...they were brave enough to stand up for themselves when the time came. They saw their food being taken and fought back. Food they farmed. Food they manufactured. Many here have reached their breaking point now. Many have stopped believing."
"And to the north?" I ask. "They're much more pious along the northern border."
She nods. "They are," she agrees. "They may even stand in opposition to what we're trying to do. But...we have the south, Amber, and we have the middle ground too. When you and your families are threatened with starvation, your faith is tested. And when many people lose their faith, many others follow. The Fringe will lend your new allies support where they can."
"But they'll need protecting too, won't they?" I ask. "They can't fend for themselves?"
"Protecting the Fringe is too big a task for any single army," my grandmother says, echoing what Commander Hendricks said when we just arrived in town. "The Olympians will continue to raid for provisions, to bolster their own stocks, and weaken any support they might give you and your allies. But they won't do it for long, not with an army approaching." She frowns at me. "How far away is it?"
"I...I'm not sure," I say. "A week, perhaps. We left with an advance force before the main Neoroman army could arrive. It might be a while before they come."
"Then that gives the Olympians plenty more time to gather supplies, and burn others. You say you're here with only five hundred soldiers?"
I nod.
"It won't be enough to make a difference," she says. "Your commanders will want to keep the bulk of them together. If the Prime should seek to attack, they could do so with thousands of soldiers before your reinforcements arrive. I hope your allies realise this."
"I...they must do," I say. "Perses is with them. He knows more than most."
"More than anyone, perhaps," my grandmother says. "He is certainly a formidable ally to this cause."
"He's not the only one," I say, thinking of the likes of Ares, and his Neoroman troops. "But...do you think the Olympians might strike? Perses believes they'll just hide behind their walls now."
"And they probably will," says my grandmother. "All I'm saying is that it is a risk that they need to be prepared for. Dividing their forces would not be wise."
I nod, solemnly, realising she's right. "Perses...he spoke of an abandoned fort nearby," I say. "I think the plan is to make camp there while we wait for the reinforcements."
"A good plan," my grandmother says. "But I cannot stay with them."
"Why?" I ask, my eyebrows tightening together. "You'd leave me?"
"No, Amber. I'd expect you to come too. I haven't been back to Pine Lake in many days. I fear what may have happened there..."
"Mother. Father," I say, breathing out the words. "Do you think they're OK?"
"I...don't know, Amber," she whispers. She takes me into a hug. "I will return to find out. I'd like you to be there with me. If that's possible?"
"It's possible," I say, drawing back, my voice resolute. "They keep telling me I'm not a captive. These are my lands. My people. No one will try to stop me."
"If that's true, then they truly are your allies and your friends," she says. Her eyes lift, working to the distance. "They're in the main square on the edge of town?" she asks.
"That's where I left them," I nod, my mind very much on my parent's safety now. On my home. "Jude is there too. He'll want to know that his auntie is safe."
"Grace," nods my grandmother. "Of course." She smiles. "I heard Jude was taken as a Defiant. He was with the army when it went south?"
I nod, stepping away, as we begin moving back through the burning town towards them. "Another long story, grandma," I say.
"We all seem to have them now," she says, as we speed our step onwards.
I nod, and fix my mind on my urgent task.
They'll only get longer still, I think.
136
We step into the square, our flames doused and regular garments revealed. My grandmother, now, walks with red robes adorning her body. The coating of glowing fire around her, now diminished, has revealed a truer representation of her age, her flaming hair once again appearing as it always used to to me; golden, but greying, just like her eyes.
Yet, there remains something more to her still, a vitality that she didn't have before. Even without the sheen of flame, she seems younger, more agile, fitter of face and frame alike. The rejuvenating powers of the fire have stripped at least a few years off her clock.
My body, however, isn't quite so gloriously adorned in red robes as hers. I'd been wearing the regular garb of the Havenites, after all, and hadn't anticipated having my powers unleashed so soon. Though I managed to stop from burning away my entire covering of clothes, they have been singed and burned in patches, revealing parts of my body beneath. Thankfully, only the right parts are showing; sections of my upper arm, lower thigh, even my midsection. Nothing too revealing.
The square remains busy as we arrive, though less so than it was before. Many of the local residents lie dead here and there, and many survivors continue to weep and mourn by their corpses. The injured have been gathered to one side in a swiftly arranged field hospital, seen to by the medics. Any others still being brought in, as the Haven and Neoroman soldiers scour the town, are added to the pile.
I scan, searching for Jude, and s
pot him with the medics, lending what aid he can. His clothes, like mine, are different to how they were. While mine have been badly burned and singed away, his are covered in blood. As is his face. As are his arms.
We move quickly over, his eyes working up as we arrive. He looks weary, worn out, as he looks at me, a relieved smile working onto his face, then quickly morphing into one of confusion at my current state of dress.
"Amber. Your powers. They're..."
He stops, mid sentence, as his eyes find my companion, and widen in a state of shock. He steps away from the injured man at his feet in a sort of daze, staring at my grandmother as if looking at a ghost.
"Alberta," he whispers. "You're here..."
"I most certainly am, Jude," my grandmother says, taking him into a hug. "Oh, my darling boy." She draws back and looks at his face, wiping the blood from his cheek. The scar there, still healing, covers the brand of Defiant beneath. My grandmother looks at it, shaking her head consolingly. "What have they done to your handsome face."
"It's nothing, Alberta," Jude assures her, stepping away. "It's my armour now."
She smiles at that, and nods her head. "Of course it is."
"But you?" he says. "You wouldn't answer when I came to your cabin. What happened to you?" He regards her robes, the faint glow around her body. "You're..."
"I'm doing what I can," she says, smiling. "I've had enough of hiding in the shadows, my boy. There are no shadows to hide in anymore."
She looks around, at the devastation of the square. I notice a small crowd of people gathering at one edge, a towering figure before them; Perses, former Herald of War, attempting to give them courage and hope.
"Amber, we lost you for a moment..."
I turn to see Secretary Burns striding forwards. His clear blue eyes maintain their calm disposition, even in such circumstances. He steps in towards us, turning his eyes over Jude, and then my grandmother. "And who is this?" he asks. "Are those...Fire-Blood robes you're wearing?"
I step forward. "Secretary Burns, I'd like you to meet my grandmother, Alberta. Grandma, this is Defence Secretary Leyton Burns, from New Haven. He is the main commander here."
"A pleasure, Alberta," Burns says, glancing with a frown towards me. "I...know a little about you, I have to confess. But I didn't expect to find you here."
"I am here to help, Secretary Burns," says my grandmother. "Just as you are."
Burns lifts a grateful expression, and one of solidarity. His eyes peruse us, seeing my tattered clothing, and the clear markings of a fight on us both. "It seems you two have been busy," he says. "I was under the impression that you no longer had your Fire-Blood powers, Alberta?"
I forget, sometimes, just how much Burns know about me, my family, my past and theirs. Having spent time in my mind, he will be very well educated on it all.
"I do, Leyton," grandma says, swiftly moving onto the use of his first name. I'm not surprised. She is quite intractable in that way, not one to recognise position and authority as others might. "I've been trying to battle all this," she says, looking around. "I can assure you, the Olympian soldiers have been causing problems all across the Fringe."
"As we're learning," Burns says. "I've discovered from some of the locals that a rebellion of sorts has been spreading. I take it you're a large catalyst for that?"
"Decades of servitude are more of a catalyst, I'd say," returns my grandmother, managing a smile. "The Fringe is a pot on the fire, Leyton. It was bound to boil over eventually. Coincidentally, it just so happens to be now, when help finally arrives."
"Perhaps not such a coincidence, Alberta," Burns says. "Merely the alignment of the stars."
"Fate?" she asks. "You believe in such things in Haven?"
"It's New Haven now, grandma," I whisper, nudging her. "They changed the name."
"I see." She looks back to Burns, waiting for his answer.
His response is to merely smile, as if enjoying the interaction, before turning his eyes to me. "I suggest you put on something more appropriate, Amber," he says. "It's nice to see you have your powers back. You'll need your armour to go with it."
"My armour?" I ask. "It's here?"
"It is," he says. "I made sure to bring it along with us, just in case. You'll find it in the back of the jeep."
I turn to grandma, hesitating. I notice that Jude, meanwhile, has been drawn back to the injured nearby, called over by a medic to help. Always so dutiful.
"A problem?" Burns asks me, noticing my hesitancy.
"No," I say. "It's just...I might need to go."
"Go?" he asks. "Go where?"
"Home," I say, my words not entirely confident. "If...I can."
He looks at me and knows. "Your family," he says. "Your grandmother is here, but your parents remain in Pine Lake. You wish to make sure that they're safe, with everything going on."
My grandmother raises her eyes. "So, you're a telepath are you?" she asks. I sense a hint of distrust in her voice. Telepaths aren't overly common in Olympus, especially those of great power. The ones that are formidable are generally looked upon, even here, with an element of suspicion. The Overseer and Heralds of Awakening, important as they are, possess powers and duties that make some people uncomfortable.
"I am," Burns says. "Though you can feel assured I am nothing like the Overseer, Alberta. I know you have a past with him."
"He's as trustworthy as anyone I've met, grandma," I say, drawing her eye with a tap of the arm. "He helped untangle the Prime's controls in me, and has done the same with Elian. You don't need to..."
"Elian?" she says, interrupting. "Elian, son of Master Prost?"
"Oh," I say, "right. I forgot about all that."
"Ah yes," says Burns. "Master Prost was the Chosen Fire-Blood who replaced you, wasn't he, Alberta? And Elian is his son."
I glance at him. You can see why telepaths cause a little disquiet among people. It can be off-putting speaking with someone who knows so much about you.
"Correct," says my grandmother dourly.
"You can't blame Elian for all that, grandma," I butt in. "It's not his fault what happened."
"I blame no one but myself," she says. "I don't know how much you know of what happened, Amber, but my dismissal from the ranks of the Chosen was my fault, and no one else's. Prost just wanted it more, that's all. I suppose that runs in the family."
"He's sweet, grandma," I say. I glance back to Jude, far enough away and sufficiently busy so he won't hear. "Elian's a sweet guy. And Secretary Burns broke him free. All of us - me, Elian, Perses - we're all on the same side now."
"We are," agrees Burns. "And now you wish to leave?"
"We will leave, Leyton," says my grandmother firmly. "These are our lands, and our people, and you have no jurisdiction over what we do."
Burns raises a full smile, a rare thing for him as far as I've seen. "I think I'm going to like you, Alberta," he says. "I enjoy your uncompromising attitude." He dips his chin, turning serious. "And of course, you are right. Neither of you are our prisoners, nor our soldiers. I have told Amber many times already that she doesn't need to help us, unless she wishes to. And I have promised her, too, that she will see her family again."
"I do want to help," I assure him. "You know I do, Secretary Burns."
"But you need to do this first," he says, aware of my predicament. "And I would not want to stop you. I would only suggest that you come with us to the fort first, and then strike out from there."
I look to my grandmother to gauge her reaction. It sounds sensible. We might struggle to find them otherwise, unless she knows which fort they're referring to. And apparently, there are many across the Fringe.
"When will you be departing for this fort you speak of?" she asks. "Do you know how far it is from here?"
"About ten miles," Burns says, "according to Perses. We will aim to set up camp there shortly. It looks like we have little choice but to bring the wounded with us for tending."
"Hendricks won't like that,"
I say, glancing over at the grim commander of the City Guard. "And he's right, isn't he? We can't offer sanctuary to everyone here who needs it."
"The Olympian soldiers won't return here," my grandmother says. "The town is damaged yes, but most of the infrastructure is intact. It would be safer to leave the local residents here. If you think you can provide better healthcare for the injured, take them, but the rest can stay."
Burns looks at my grandmother interestedly. I do the same. "Uncompromising indeed," he says. "You seem to have some experience of this, Alberta."
"I understand the ways of the world," she returns. "This is the best way, I assure you, Leyton. They will be safe here. It is their town, and they will see it restored. Most will have personal provisions to last for a while. If you take the people here under your protection, where does it stop? Dozens of other towns, and perhaps more, have seen similar trouble."
"It...kinda makes sense," I say, agreeing with her. Harsh as it sounds, it's for the best. There's not much a force of five hundred can do to protect tens, even hundreds of thousands across such a vast area. If other towns are burning, and suffering under the weight of the dead and injured, they have little choice but to deal with it themselves.
"If you wish to leave a small group of your soldiers here to help put the town in order," my grandmother goes on, "then that is your choice. But from my point of view, both Amber and I have something more personal to attend to. We cannot wait long, Leyton. And, if it's not too much trouble, I'd ask for one of these vehicles of yours to help us on our way."
"You...can have one," Burns agrees, "but only once we have them stored at the fort."
"Then it seems we have reached a compromise," she says, quite the authority already. I've always looked up to her, and respected her, but have never seen her quite like this.
"So it would seem," nods Burns. "We will finish up here and be on our way soon. I will speak with Commander Hendricks. I imagine he'll agree with your perspective."