by T. C. Edge
"Herald Gailen," she says. "I hear he's the most powerful of them all now. Nice to see that the two of you get along."
I nod, watching him fade off towards the horizon. "I got along with most of the Heralds and Chosen," I say. "I don't see them as my enemy, really."
My grandmother takes me by the shoulders, turning me towards her. "You must, Amber," she says. "Be sure that, when the time comes, they won't hesitate to kill you. You can have no space for doubt. Until they have been released of the Prime's controls, they are all our enemy."
I nod, knowing she's right, but not particularly liking it. I turn back to see that the jeep is now coming back towards us, feeling it must now be safe.
"You did well," grandma goes on. "If you hadn't intervened, who knows what would have happened."
"We're lucky it was him," I say. "Someone else might have acted differently, ordered their soldiers to attack."
"And now?" she asks. "You say you don't want Kovas finding out about your involvement with the coalition. You didn't seem so concerned with him."
"I trust him," I say. "At least in this I do. And anyway, he can't speak, so what can he say? And it wasn't like I had a choice anyway."
"No choice at all," she says. She draws a breath. "Hopefully that's the last we see of him for a while."
In the distance, I can just about see the tornado fading away again as Gailen drops to the ground. I look on longingly at the control he exerts, the speeds he can achieve when airborne. It's something I'm eager to learn for myself.
Behind us, the jeep rumbles back along, Jude stepping out as it arrives.
"What happened?" he asks breathily. "We couldn't see much from back there."
"Not much," I tell him. "We just spoke."
"But he's mute, isn't he?" he asks.
"It was a one sided conversation," I say.
"We're safe, that's all that matters," grandma adds. "Now let's not linger here any more than we have to. We have a long way still to go before we get to Hunter's Station." She looks to the skies. "We won't get there before nightfall now. We may have to stop somewhere. How are you feeling, Jude?" she asks, looking to him. "You must be tired."
"I'm fine," he says. "I've got plenty more in the tank."
"Your eyes say otherwise," grandma says. "You'll need a break soon enough. We'll find somewhere suitable soon."
"I could take over," I say. "It's not that hard, is it, Jude?"
"Not really," he admits. "But I've got the hang of it now. I'm fine, honestly. Don't worry about me."
He marches off at that, putting the argument to bed, and moves back into the driver's seat. The engine, already chugging, rumbles a little louder as if to speed us on.
"It's his thing," grandma says. "He feels responsible for it now."
"There comes a point, grandma," I tell her, "where responsibility starts to become stubbornness. If he let me drive we might not have to stop somewhere overnight."
"Oh, we'd have to anyway, I think," she returns. "We'll still be a long way off from Hunter's Station by nightfall. It may not be safe, still, to drive in the dark out here."
I sigh, feeling frustrated by the growing length of the journey, and return to the car as we set back off to the east.
151
After several more hours on the road, delayed of course as we pass by other towns, we eventually stop for the evening in a small village bordered by woodland.
We find that it's one of the rare few places that hasn't been visited yet, not for supplies nor for the taking of prisoners. With a population of only two hundred or so, it seems as if it's fallen beneath the radar of the Olympian patrols and collection units, far enough away from other, more major, hubs to make the journey here a waste of time and resources.
That, at least, is what my grandmother tells my mother and Grace, both of them slightly worried that the Olympians simply haven't come here yet, and may well do so overnight while we're sleeping.
That...well, it could be the case. It seems unlikely, but it's a concern nonetheless. As such, we decide to keep watch that night once more, rallying a few of the locals to help. Gathering a town meeting in the small village hall, we update them on what's been happening, calling for anyone willing to lend a hand.
"Our lands are under threat," my grandma informs them. "You may be safe here for now, or you may not. We will be spending the night right here, and continuing on towards Hunter's Station in the morning. We urge all of you to come with us. If you want to join this fight, we will be happy to have you."
Several of the younger men in the audience stand and offer their support. Others, though perhaps not willing to take up arms, do agree that moving to Hunter's Station is going to be the safest option. Half, perhaps, agree to leave. The other half appear intent on staying. By the time the meeting ends, grandma has given out additional information, filling in the blanks of what this small village, a place called Weeping Grove, already know, receiving most of their information from a local merchant who arrived that morning.
I imagine that by the time dawn comes, a number of others may well have decided to join us as we journey on.
To that end, those who have already decided to leave gather up their personal provisions, packing them onto carts and wagons, ready to leave at dawn. I move around, lending what help I can, busying myself as the night darkens. They don't have much here, but it's enough to aid the cause. In the days and weeks to come, we may need all the help we can get.
Jude, owing to his double shift last night, and his long workload behind the wheel that day, is allowed to take the night off. Typical of the man, he does so begrudgingly, though with a number of other locals willing to keep watch as well, he admits that he isn't needed.
I take a single watch of my own, doing so fairly early so I can get some sleep too. The exertions of the day - learning to fly, or at least glide with style, is quite exhausting - have taken some of the wind from my sails. I feel fit and strong still, my stamina and endurance certainly improving, but remain wary of pushing myself too far. Here, in this quiet, sleepy little village, I'll have a good chance to get some rest.
I do so in the village hall, a side room set up with simple straw and feather beds for us to sleep in. When I arrive after my watch, I find Jude fast asleep. I slip into the bed beside him and, without having to try too hard, drop off myself.
Surprisingly, I sleep through the night, waking at first light to the sounds of a commotion. I slip immediately into a state of readiness before discovering that the noise is nothing but the sound of the village mobilising. I move outside of the village hall, the morning light falling down through the trees, to find that, as I suspected, the travelling band has proliferated. Many of those who had decided to stay have been convinced otherwise. Like sheep, they now think it wise to follow the majority.
"We're no more than three hours from Hunter's Station," my grandmother calls out to the gathering throng. "We will stay with you, and guide you there. We go only as fast as the slowest among us."
I look around at the gathered carts and wagons. Some are motorised, though will have a low top speed. Others are to be drawn along by horses, hitched to the front. If we were alone, we'd reach Hunter's Station in an hour or so in the jeep. Staying with the villagers, our progress with be inevitably slow.
As it turns out, we're even slower than I'd feared. Worried that we may run into Herald Gailen again, and knowing he won't be so lenient when encountering us for a second time, grandma guides us via a slow, off-road route, staying as far from any other towns and major roadways as we can. For us, in a jeep well designed for such terrain, it's easily manageable. For those in basic wagons and horse-pulled carts, it's much more of a challenge.
On several occasions, we suffer breakdowns, a cart wheel falling off or wagon turning over as it drops into a crevice, tumbling its contents to the floor. Repacking the wagons, and reattaching the wheels takes time. What was meant to take only three or so hours is easily stretched into five or six.
Mercifully, however, we suffer nothing worse than that, our time slow but our progress unhindered by any roving bands of soldiers and collection units. Eventually, as morning shifts into afternoon, the town of Hunter's Station finally comes into view, a vast place when compared to the village of Weeping Grove where we spent the night.
Hurrying our pace onwards, I see that our days away have done the town some good. The damage, though substantial, has been cordoned off. A few lookout stations have been fashioned around the borders of the town. I see a much vaster population assembled than when we first came here to find the place in ruin, the local townsfolk, it seems, already joined by many others, gathering from across the Fringe.
The sight of carts and wagons and horses is a common one as we work towards the town, many of them congregated in some of the larger, open areas, and around the outskirts of the town itself. As we arrive, we find a familiar figure quickly coming towards us, well armed and surrounded by several ruggedly dressed militia.
We disembark the jeep and move towards him, my grandmother quick to greet her fellow Liberation League leader.
"You work fast, Keith," she says, stepping towards the League's chief weapons procurer and military man. "Is this all your doing?"
"Not by a long shot," he says. "Penelope and Bryan's people have been coming in too. We've had thousands arrive already. I'm working on recruiting and arming our militia. We have several hundred already prepared to fight when the time comes. They're building lookout posts and checkpoints around the town." His eyes work towards the incoming Weeping Grovers. "These yours?" he asks.
Grandma nods. "Picked them up last night. They were nice enough to let us stay in their village overnight. There's another hundred and fifty or so of them. There should be others coming behind us from towns we passed on the way."
"Good. I'll have Bryan set up somewhere," Keith says. "He's running accommodation and housing right now. We have quite a few empty buildings we can use, but not enough to accommodate everyone coming in. We're going to start fashioning a camp south of town to cater to the spillover."
"Excellent," grandma says. "It appears you have everything in hand here."
"So far," Keith nods, his eyes turning more concerned. "Have you seen what's happening, Alberta? The Fringers are being taken..."
"To Olympus," she says. "Yes, we've seen. I spoke with Judith and Edgar about it. They're going to try to gather as many here as possible. Burton will too. We'll get the first of their people trickling in within a day or so. Where are we on supplies?"
"Working on it," Keith says. "Pen's people brought quite a lot with them. They hadn't been hit so bad by the raids and collections. She's taking charge of trying to gather more."
"And our own supplies?" grandma asks.
"We haven't gotten to the secret caches and stores yet. If they haven't been discovered by the Olympians, they'll help us out a lot. But," he says, lowering his voice, "they won't be enough for long, Alberta. Not with this many people looking to us for help."
Grandma nods, thinking. "We'll get by," she says. "That's the best we can do for now. I'll have Edgar work on rationing what we have when he gets here. He has a mind for it. We'll stretch it out, Keith. But fine work. Fine, fine work."
The large, but fairly softly spoken man smiles and nods at her. "Do you plan to stay?" he asks, after a pause. "We could use your leadership, but I know you have other concerns."
My grandmother looks to me. "We'll return to the fort soon," she says. "The rest of us will stay here. I'll come and go between here and the fort once we've gotten ourselves settled. Have you heard anything from them?"
"Not yet," Keith says. "At least, not that I know of. We don't really have anyone here with the authority to treat with them. We were going to leave that up to you, Alberta."
"You have more than enough authority, Keith," my grandmother says defiantly. "But I will take care of it. I did think that they'd have left some soldiers here, though, to help the town back to health. They certainly did when they first arrived."
"Yes, I believe they left after a day or so," Keith says. "Or so I heard. I also hear there are some injured locals being kept at the fort?"
"Yes, they were taken there for treatment, with a few friends and relatives. I'll find out what's happening there and have them brought back when ready."
Keith nods, letting out a breath. He and the others can't have been here long, perhaps only arriving last night or this morning. It appears they've been extremely busy since they arrived. The place is positively bustling with activity.
And in that, I feel some concern.
"Won't this many people attract attention, grandma?" I ask. "If the Olympians find us all here, a lot of people could be taken or killed."
"There's little we can do to hide it," she responds. "With so many people coming here now, the Olympian forces will be sure to pick up the trail. But we're building a sizeable militia, Amber. And we have the fort not far away to provide a buffer."
"And do you have the weapons to arm the militia?" I ask, looking to Keith.
"We have enough for several hundred right now," he says. "But this is only the beginning. As soon as we gather up our own supply crates, we'll have plenty more. Within days we may have an army of our own, thousands strong."
"A force," I say, "but not an army. They have no training. They have no powers. They won't be a match for the Olympian troops if they come in numbers."
"It's the best we can do, Amber," grandma says. "No, they're not officially trained, but we have many fine hunters and marksmen within our ranks. You saw how effective Burt and Jude were with those guns. We have many more like them."
"Then you'll need appropriate weaponry," I say. "Regular hunting rifles won't do." I let out a breath, knowing how negative I'm coming across. It's not my intention. I'm just trying to bring some reality to proceedings. "The incoming army will have plenty of stores, I hope," I go on. "They may be able to help arm you."
I turn, at that, realising that my parents, Grace, and Jude remain nearby. The rest of the Weeping Grovers gather around in their carts and wagons, horses neighing as they stand in the warming sun.
"We should get them settled," I say, turning to another topic. "Then," I continue, looking to grandma, "I'd like to get back to the fort. They may not know what's happening yet. And I want to find out if Kira and Ares are back."
"Fine," says grandma, nodding along. "Keith, if you could get Bryan to house the Weeping Grovers, that would be great."
"Of course."
"And my family," she goes on, turning to the others. "They'll need somewhere to stay as well." She leans in, speaking quietly. "Somewhere central. Somewhere safe."
Keith nods. "There are some decent accommodations in the centre of town. Strong foundations, thick walls. Some are occupied, but not all of them. Unfortunately, a few of the previous occupants were killed in the original raids. I'll show you the way," he says. "Wait here a second while I speak with Bryan. I'll be back in a moment."
He hurries off at that, his militia guards going with him. I continue to look around, quite impressed by the efficiency of the operation. It's obvious that this is a group that has been preparing for this sort of eventuality for some time.
"I'd like to help," comes a voice behind me. I turn to see Jude stepping away from Grace and my parents, joining my grandmother and me. "I'm happy to go hunting for supplies, or try to gather weapons. Whatever you want, Alberta. Just point the way."
"You don't want to come to the fort?" I ask.
He looks towards me. "They're not my people, Amber. I'm useless there. But here..." he looks around, and nods to himself. "I can make a difference."
I smile at him, though feel sad at the idea that he'll leave my side. I've gotten so used to having him around again. It's been so nice having this time together, even in the midst of a war.
"I'll assign you to Keith," Alberta says, breaking the short silence that dawns on our little group. "I think you'll work best with
him."
Jude lifts a smile. "I'd be happy with that," he says.
We wait for a while until Keith returns, drawing Bryan along with him, who greets my grandmother fondly before setting off to perform his duties. We bid the Weeping Grovers goodbye, though Jude makes sure to remember those who are willing to fight, telling them he'll return to them soon and initiate them into the League's militia ranks.
He does so even before Keith has been informed of his new role beneath him. The current militia leader looks on quizzically before my grandmother explains what's happening.
"Oh, I see," Keith says, as he begins leading us through town on foot, leaving the jeep on the outskirts. "Well, I'd be more than happy to have you, Jude. Stick with me, I'll show you the ropes. It's an exciting time to get involved in the cause."
I can certainly see that. Exciting. Scary. Certainly never boring. The look on Jude's face suggests he's delighted with this turn of events. Now, finally, he has found his place, right at the heart of his own people.
We spend the next half hour or so heading to the centre of town and settling in at the accommodation there. It's rather bittersweet, really. The apartment Keith shows us to is nice; large and quite well appointed, with a pleasant living area and even balcony, and several decent sized bedrooms. For the Fringe, it's the best you'd get, probably owned by a wealthy merchant who managed to establish himself through clever trading deals.
Yet, the fact that's it's now available speaks of its owner's death. Perhaps it was just a single person who lived here, or perhaps an entire family slaughtered in the raids. Either way, our temporary stay will have been paved by blood and death. Comfortable though it is, no one will feel comfortable staying here.
But then, I won't be staying here, at least not now. With Grace and my parents settled, I say my goodbyes telling them I'll return soon enough. My mother, of course, urges me not to go.
"We've only just got you back, Amber. We don't want to lose you all over again."
"You're not going to lose me, mother," I assure her. "But I can't wait here when there's a war to fight." I hug her and draw back, looking to her and my father. "When the army comes, and heads north, I'm going to be going with them," I say. "I'm going to do everything I can to get Lilly back and make our family whole again. I promise."