by T. C. Edge
This all started with her for me. I imagine it may end with her too.
"I'll be called upon to help," is all I say. "I'm not so much use here."
"Of course," he says. "The stories, Amber..." His eyes change for the first time, glazing in a temporary wonder as they look at me. It isn't easy, of course, for him to break free of his long held beliefs. In other circumstances, I'd be a flaming goddess to him. To see me only as his daughter, now, isn't such an easy thing. "I hear you saved many lives," he manages to finish. "That's what the others are saying."
It's a better thing to hear than, 'I hear you killed many people'. I prefer his line of thinking. It's a nicer way of looking at it. A way that won't haunt my dreams.
"I was just one soldier, father," I say. "I did my part, along with the rest of them. I hope the stories reflect that."
He nods, understanding me. I don't want what I've done to be overstated, even if the stories are true. It may create false hope and expectation that I cannot again deliver.
"I'll tell you mother you'll come visit tomorrow," he says. He grips the rifle a little more firmly, before nodding to Jude, and turning away.
Before he reaches the door I stop him. "Father," I say, hurrying up behind him. He turns around, and I wrap him into a hug. "I love you, you know that?"
The look on his face is a the sort I wished I'd grown up with. A genuine affection and yet bordered with shame. "I love you, Amber," he whispers. "I hope I'll have the chance to show you that. After everything..."
"It's gone," I say. "It's the past." I fix my eyes. "I'll make us a family again, father. That's why I'm going to Olympus. I'm going to get Lilly out."
The dew on his eyes is blinked away, as his expression firms again. "I know you will," he says. "I only wish I could help."
"You are helping, Richard," says Jude behind us. "It takes a brave man to take up arms against his masters."
"He's right, father," I say. "You're doing everything you can. We all are."
His eyes show gratitude at our words, though some deep-seated frame of regret still remains. That will take time to fade. Self-forgiveness isn't something that comes overnight.
He leaves with that, moving out of the large storeroom, as the next recruit walks in. This one isn't related to either of us. This one doesn't have a brand.
So Jude enters into his questioning once more.
And so the night goes on.
172
KIRA
I step quickly through the fort, leaping along on my home-made crutch.
The place has been cleared now, the dust of the dead cast to the winds and earth, the pyres swept up and stone bases dismantled. The entire place, in fact, has been put back into some semblance of working order. We may not have many people left, but those who remain have had some time on their hands.
It isn't any good overthinking on the dead, I know. With little to do but wait, the last couple of days have been an exercise in finding distraction.
I hurry past a group of Neoromans, an energy swelling within them. They turn in the same direction as I'm travelling - down towards the southern yard. I've spent the last few hours on watch, searching the north for enemy threats. That, at least, is something I can still do effectively. I may not have full use of my left leg, but my eyes, nose, and ears are still determinedly unaffected.
I reach the southern wall, and make my way quickly up the winding steps toward the watchtower at the top. My skills with the crutch have grown considerably these last few days, allowing me to move at some pace when I need to. To that end, I declined the offer when Secretary Burns said he'd get a shiny new pair fixed up for me. I told him the one I have works just fine, and no one should go to the trouble.
"And besides," I'd finished, "I can't exactly hold a gun if I'm holding a crutch now, can I? At least with only one, I have one hand spare."
He's raised his eyes at the suggestion. "Are you still planning to fight then, Kira?" he asked. "In...your condition?"
My emerald gaze narrowed. "If I must," is all I said.
Now, skipping with some renewed athleticism, I reach the top of the wall, joining the sentry up there. His eyes search southwards, far off across the plains. There's a smile on his face. A smiled forged in Neorome, white teeth behind tanned skin, brown eyes shining.
I hold my form for a moment, and zoom in with my gaze. As the details begin to clear, so my heart begins to thump. Coming our way, I see a grand convoy, hundreds of vehicles, big and small, rumbling upon the earth.
Finally, I think, they have come.
I stay there for a few moments, trying to control my excitement and nerves. I scan and search for a car that might contain Dom. I knew they'd be arriving late this morning, runners having confirmed it. Yet seeing really is believing. It is a sight for the sorest of eyes.
Down in the yard below, I sense the remaining men and women of the advance force gathering, a little more than eighty of them only remaining now. The southern gates grind open, giving them all a view across the vast plains. I look down and see Ares and Maximus marching through together, pressing quickly towards the front. Secretary Burns goes with them, though makes sure to stay just behind, Commander Hendricks stepping in to join his side.
It is a greeting party of our most prominent leaders, about to be usurped. Burns and Hendricks may be most senior among the incoming Havenite troops, but Ares and Max will now find themselves under orders from a higher power, the man who will lead the Neoroman army in the coming days of war.
That man, I know, will not be Dom, who is coming in a different capacity. No, the finest wartime leader in Neorome is coming, a man who has lived through war and conquest his entire adult life. A man I have seen just once before, when we first set sail from the port of Ostia, his eyes of blade-like silver, short beard coloured in mixed tones of grey, brown, and white.
General Decimus, we're told, will be commanding our forces.
I try, now, to search for him, as well as Dom, as the great convoy closes in. It's hard to make much out, a great cloud of dust kicked up by the hundreds of vehicles coming our way. Many I see are large, troop carriers and supply vehicles and mobile siege weapons, the tools intended to bring down the city. Others are small, military jeeps and Neoroman transports, brought across the ocean to be added to those from New Haven, carrying the City Guard troops.
My nerves begin to increase as they close in. I guide my eyes down to the gathering below, our small leadership group standing just beyond the gate. Ares turns his eyes up to me, gesturing me to come down and join them. I find myself hesitating, my chest feeling tight. I shake my head, and stand my ground. Moments later, I'm heading down the steps, through the small crowd below...
And back to my private stone chambers, to take a few minutes alone.
I sit on my bed, listening, as the earth begins to tremble, and the air shivers with the coming of a great horde. A feeling of relief courses through me; for several days, we've been isolated here, nothing to do but wait. Were an Olympian army to muster and attack, we'd have little strength to repel them. Now, our beleaguered group can rest, embraced to the mighty bosom of an army four thousand strong.
I take a breath, and the distant rumbling grows louder. The cracks in the stone above my head leak dust, lit by the streams of sunlight pouring through the window. A few pebbles fall too, shaken loose from crumbled foundations, tapping as they hit the stone at my feet.
I stay there, through it all, not certain why I can't bring myself to step back out. I suppose the answer is simple enough, really - when Dom arrives, and steps out to greet me, I don't want to do myself a disservice in front of the men. I don't want to appear weak or foolish if I should begin to cry, or grow emotional, given everything that's gone on recently.
What would Ares think of that? What would Max?
I haven't yet met General Decimus officially. I don't want a man like him to see me show weakness during our first encounter.
So I sit there, and try to maintain my c
omposure, as I hear the convoy rumbling to the wall, coming to a stop outside the gates. I can sense the great excitement, the sprawling flow of energy, as the two forces, one small, one grand, finally collide and merge. And all the while, I sit and wait and try to distract myself with calming thoughts. Thoughts that turn to Hunter's Station, wondering if the convoy passed by that way. Thoughts that muse on Amber, Alberta, and all the good they're doing.
Their militia, I know, has grown large these last few days, despite the departure of a couple of their main leaders. It is a force of many thousands now, still growing, bit by bit. Not a well trained force, nor a powerful one by the standards I'm used to, but a great contingent that will offer support, helping to manage the Fringe, secure resources, and keep the people fed, as we engage in the final siege.
Amber was excited to see the incoming army, I know. I wonder, now, if she's out there too...
The door knocks.
My heart seizes.
My eyes rip to the entrance as I sit there on the bed, my thoughts having wandered and taken my attention with them. I see, within the film of sunlight beneath the door, two shadows indicating feet. I clear my throat and take a breath, standing from the bed.
"Who...who is it?"
The door slowly opens, creaking on hinges long past their best. In the doorway, stands a man out of place here, his armour pristine, his cape a dazzling red. There are no cuts or abrasions on his face, as there are with so many of the rest of us. There's no staining on his skin, no soot or grit that speaks of manual work under the sun. He stands, resplendent, his white teeth shining brightly within his olive-skinned facade, tousles of brown hair tumbling upon his forehead. And his eyes, those beautiful eyes. They glow with an affection I feel I may never deserve.
"You didn't want to come greet us on arrival?" Dom asks, stepping gracefully inside. He walks like an Emperor should, like everything beneath his feet belongs to him, and always will. "I was told you were here, darling."
I stay rooted to the spot as he lets the door groan shut. It blocks out much of the sunlight, dousing the chamber in a more muted glow. His eyes turn to my ankle, to the crutch fixed beneath my arm.
"Kira..." he says.
It's all it takes for me to begin to break. For him to say my name, say it in that way. The sympathy, the consolation. It brings it all back in one fell swoop, the feelings of insecurity, of isolation I've felt, my place here among these heroes and gods becoming less relevant, day by day.
I flick my eyes away, as he strides fluidly forward. Several quick, furtive blinks help me to stop any tears from brewing.
"I missed you, darling," he says, his warm, exotic voice coiling around me. He places his smooth palm to my cheek, and draws my emerald eyes to his. "I hate being apart from you," he whispers. "I hate it, Kira."
I grab him, and haul him into a hug, my crutch dropping to the floor with a wooden clang. His eyes turn down to it. "It's fine," I say, holding tight. "It's fine, Dom, leave it."
He grips me a little tighter, as if I need to be held upright. For some reason that annoys me. I pull away and step back, standing there on my own two feet.
Slowly, he draws a smile. "Defiant, as always," he says. His eyes skip to my strapped-up ankle. "What's the prognosis?"
"A couple of weeks, and I'll have full movement back," I say. "It's just a sprain. It's nothing."
"Four hundred dead," he says, nodding. "A hundred and fifty of them Imperial Guards." His eyes work to my left ankle once more. "It is nothing, Kira. I'm so happy that you're OK."
My lips turn up into a pale crescent. "I missed you," I whisper.
We press in together again, thawing from the pause, our lips clashing together in a kiss, long delayed. The feelings of weakness, of self-doubt, are cast away by his presence now. It doesn't seem to matter anymore, whether I can fight or not. He has three thousand experienced Neoromans at his back. There is no real reason for me to fight anymore.
"We have some fine medics with us here," he says, pulling away again. "We may be able to see your ankle set right much sooner. If...if that's what you want?"
I have to think about it now, not entirely sure. I turn the question on him. "What do you want?"
"For you to be happy," he says, flashing a winning smile.
"Come on, Dom," I say. "You can be honest, you know. I know you'd prefer me to stay out of things now. You could even command it, if you wish."
"I don't wish that," he says. "You are to be my wife, Kira. You are not a subject for me to command."
"And what about General Decimus?" I ask. "I hear he's the one commanding the army now."
Dom nods, stiffening a little. "General Decimus is the greatest commander we have ever had," he says, his voice turning all cutely official. "The council voted for him to lead the operation. I had no complaints at all."
"And what happened in Ostia?" I ask. "There's no...lingering tension, over that?"
He shakes his head. "General Decimus was only there on the orders of the senate, and trying to stop us going on an unsanctioned military expedition. His hands were tied, and yet he was content for us to leave."
"And now?" I ask. "We've lost a lot of Imperial Guards, Dom. He can't be happy about that."
"No...no he isn't," he says. "But only because he is a proud Neoroman. None of us wish for our brothers and sisters to fall."
"But the red tape...it's all been cut now?" I shake my head. "One moment, they're telling us we can't leave and help New Haven, and the next they're sending out a great army, with General Decimus at their head. I just...find it all a bit odd."
"It's merely political process, Kira," Dom says. "I understand why they wouldn't send troops initially, just as I understand why they have chosen to now. They have come to realise how great the Olympian threat might become. Lucius did a lot of good work, persuading them to see the light."
I nod, my eyes shifting away.
"You remain suspicious of Lucius?" he asks me.
I blink, turning back to him. I shake my head with some conviction. "No, not at all," I say. "I trust Lucius completely..."
"Ah, I see," he says. "This is about Senator Tiberius?"
I turn to look at him again. "He was the one who blocked you originally, Dom," I say. "Why the change of heart for him? You've got to question what he gets out of it, haven't you?"
He smiles fondly at me. "We may make a politician of you yet, Kira Blackstone," he says. "Of course, questioning people's motives is always important, but in this case, Tiberius had no real choice. To have tried to block Lucius from sending the army would have made him look a coward. No Neoroman can suffer that."
I take his word for it, though remain distrustful of Tiberius and his cronies in the curia. Neorome may be in good hands right now, but Dom and Lucius's joint rule hasn't been going long. They are both young, and inexperienced. I wouldn't put it past a man like Senator Tiberius to try to improve his position where he can.
I put it all to one side, however, as Dom turns towards the door. "I ought to get back," he says. "General Decimus doesn't intend on staying here long. We are packing up the supplies, and making straight for Olympus. Given what happened here a few nights ago, I think he is eager to strike before the Olympians can regain their strength."
I purse my lips, nodding. I rather like the sound of that. Decimus seems like a man who gets things done. You don't become the most celebrated commander in the Neoroman army without being decisive.
"And you know what's been happening?" I ask. "With Brie."
"Yes," he says, his voice growing sombre. "It is most concerning, and one of the reasons why the General wishes to expedite things. The longer we leave it, the larger their army will get. If we can block off the city by this evening, then we'll at least be able to stop any more Fringers getting in."
"The League can help," I tell him. "Did you pass by Hunter's Station?"
He shakes his head. "There was a large town some way in the distance," he says, "but we didn't go near. I assume t
hat was it."
"Amber's there, with her grandmother," I say. "They have thousands more militiamen who are willing to help. I suppose our runners informed you of what's been happening?"
"They did. Any help, of course, will be welcome." He leans down to pick up my crutch, handing it to me. "They're packing things up now," he says. "Are you...going to stay here a little longer?"
I shake my head. "No, I just wanted to...see you on my own, I guess."
He smiles sweetly. "A reunion in front of the army might not have been so comfortable. I know you're hardly one for public displays of affection."
"In front of generals and commanders and thousands of troops?" I shake my head. "Not really." For some reason, at that point, my mind suddenly bursts with a thought. "Is Merk here?" I ask, finding myself oddly excited to see the old, gap-toothed sailor again. He is often a balm for sore heads during troubled times. He always has a way of making me smile.
Dom, however, douses my flame. "Unfortunately, no," he says. "This really isn't a place for him. He wanted to stay back in New Haven, spend some more time with Brenda."
"Oh, I get it," I say. "Is that becoming a thing now?"
"In Merk's head, yes," he laughs. "I'm not so sure Mrs Carmichael feels the same way."
"Hmmmm, I wouldn't necessarily say that," I grin. "The last time I saw her, she was a little coy on the topic."
"Interesting," Dom chuckles. "Merk will be delighted."
"And the Havenites?" I say. "There's a thousand City Guards, right? Who commands them?"
"Well, Commander Hendricks, I suppose," he says. "And Secretary Burns. Deputy Rycard stayed back to continue runnings things in their absence. Colonel Hatcher remains too injured to fight."
"Right," I say, trying to think of anything else. And, perhaps, delaying slightly before we have to step back outside. "What about Drum?" I ask. "You know, Brie's adopted brother. Is he among the City Guard troops?"