by T. C. Edge
"Soldiers," I say.
"Yes, soldiers," he says, his green-gold eyes narrowing just a touch, as if carefully searching my reaction. "The Fringe is being invaded. Many from those lands are passionate about defending their towns and villages. It is only natural."
His eyes work again to the masses below. "Raise an arm, child," he says. "They praise you. They love you. Raise an arm and wave to them."
I lift my right arm, and feel a wave of energy accompany the simple movement. The noise below grows suddenly louder, faces exploding into smiles. I zoom in with my augmented eyes and see tears of joy among them, expressions of frantic devotion as my name is called upon their lips.
Herald, they call out.
Mother.
"You deserve this," the Overseer goes on, his voice a hissing whisper. "There can't be many people living who have helped improve so many lives as you. Thousands, Brie. Thousands will live long and happy because of you. And this is only the start. You shall spread your joy to all corners of this land. One day, perhaps millions will look up to you, as the people are now. Perhaps millions will call you mother. Call you...goddess."
The word fills me with a profound warmth and joy. Millions. All for me...
I look again and wave my hand, back and forward, as I stare down upon them. I let my smile shine and glow beneath the radiant sun, as I search their faces and eyes, see their love and adoration.
"She will see this city safe!" the Overseer suddenly calls out. His voice cuts the air like a knife through warm butter, overcoming the din, echoing upon the breeze as if it was formed to carry his very words. "Praise her coming. She is here to bring deliverance to you all!"
The voices below cling tighter, embracing as they gather and rise to my ears. They roil and boil and explode as one, thousands of unique tongues blending into a single, overpowering roar. The Overseer turns to me as the sounds swell upon the hill.
"It is important that the people know you, Brie," he says. "It is important that they love you. You are their saviour, all of them. Is that a mantle you can bear?"
I nod to him. "I can bear it."
"Good," he smiles. "And don't worry, it will not be yours to bear alone." He turns me at that, as he looks to the gathered Chosen and Heralds. "We welcome Krun," he says to them. "Go to the courtyard, and toast his inauguration. Do not wait for us. There is important work to be done."
The men and women, in their colourful robes and armour, begin moving off. I see Krun looking sheepish still, perhaps not feeling as if he's earned such a lofty title as Chosen quite yet. His predecessor, Atlas, must have something to do with that. He was bigger, stronger, more mighty than Krun. To follow such a man cannot be easy.
"Minerva, Marcus, come join us," says the Overseer.
We step towards my mentor who has become a friend, and the young Neoroman Captain who has, for a few days now, found himself under the wing of Herald Avon. Avon, I know, has taken to him, impressed by his power set, attitude, and resolve. He nods now at Marcus before moving off with Krun. I watch the assembled luminaries step away towards the central courtyard, and see that Director Cromwell is among them, looking decidedly out of place in his white suit.
I've spent very little time with him up here. He has, in all truth, hardly crossed my mind.
"Fine speech, Master Overseer," says Marcus as we gather together, his warm voice so smoothly delivered. "You have a way of inspiring the crowd."
"Why thank you, Marcus," the Overseer grins, so youthful, sometimes, in his expressions. "But really, it was Brie whom they cheered. She has inspired the entire city, and all the lands beyond. Word of her legend is spreading. Commoners are swarming here from the Fringe, desperate to kneel before her, feel her divine power in the flesh."
"She is a goddess," Minerva says, moving towards me. She takes me into a sisterly embrace. "You are more special than I could ever have imagined, sister. A true marvel."
"Thank you, Minerva," I say, taking the compliment willingly. "Only because of your training and support."
"A fine team," the Overseer says. "What a pair you make."
His eyes drift, at that, toward Marcus, and back to me. Is he speaking about me and Minerva, or me and Marcus?
"Is Marcus not going to be inaugurated into the Heralds?" I ask. "He's been doing well under Herald Avon, hasn't he?"
"Oh, very well," says the Overseer. "Avon has been giving glowing feedback. Marcus's powers are very similar to Avon's, and may yet surpass his once we're done. But for now, introducing Krun into the Chosen is enough. Marcus is walking a...different path."
I find myself smiling at Marcus, and him back at me. "And...what do you mean, once we're done?" I ask.
"Oh, I mentioned before that Marcus has more to give," says the Overseer. He looks to the young Neoroman. "Both Minerva and I have spotted some hidden potential in the boy. I think it's time it was extracted."
My eyes lift excitedly. I turn them on Minerva. "Well then do it," I say. "What are we waiting for?"
"Oh, no, I cannot," Minerva says. "His latent powers are too deep for me. I have tried to access them, but I cannot draw them out. We thought that perhaps you might be able to?"
"Of course," I say immediately. "Of course I will."
The Overseer grins. "Good, yes very good," he says. "You two share a special bond. We would see it...deepened. Come, follow me."
He begins leading us away across the plateau, heading to the eastern side. A little further away, I see the Chosen and Heralds gathering in the courtyard to toast Krun, Avon leading the celebrations as wine is poured, and goblets raised. Our path takes us past them, in the direction of the Temple of the Prime. It was where my potential was unleashed. The same must be true for Marcus.
"Am I to meet the Prime?" Marcus asks, growing excited as the great temple looms ahead of us, white and pristine beneath the glowing sun.
"Alas, not today," says the Overseer. "The Prime are resting. They must keep up their strength during these times of war."
A pulse of disappointment accompanies his words. I feel it myself, as I see it in Marcus's face.
"Do not despair, children," the Overseer goes on. "You shall see them again very soon, don't fear."
He leads us onwards towards the temple, past the thick white pillars, the great arched entrance. The firelight flickers within as I've seen it before, torches set along the walls. Yet at the end, the radiance of the Prime is absent, the great hall feeling cold and empty without their warmth.
"What do you make of it, Marcus?" asks the Overseer. "How does it compare to the great buildings of Neorome?"
"Very favourably," Marcus says, admiring his surroundings. "It is a match for the very best in grandeur and scale. Not to mention beauty."
"That is good to hear," smiles the Overseer. "We have heard of the great beauty of Neorome, and have tried to emulate that in part here. I wouldn't expect to match it quite yet. We are still a young city by comparison. And you, child?" he asks, turning to me. "You have seen Neorome, have you not? How would you compare our humble city to the jewel across the sea?"
I try to think, recalling my trip to Neorome some months ago now. It comes clear to my mind, some memories manifesting easily, others much harder to perceive and cling onto. I recall marvelling at the beauty of the city, north of the Tiber in particular. It held a great weight of history that, perhaps, I don't feel here so much.
"Both are magnificent," I say. "Neorome is, perhaps, more individually beautiful. The carvings and frescoes, the intricate detailing on some of the buildings. It's very difficult to beat."
"And here?"
"Oh, Olympus is more grand," I say. "It has a sense of scale that Neorome cannot match. It's almost mythical. I suppose that's where you got the name in the first place."
"Indeed we did," the Overseer says, as we step towards the stage and altar. "We took the name from Greek mythology, inspired by those wonders. I wanted to portray something colossal and imposing, a fitting tribute to the Prime."
His eye holds a twinkle, his mouth a sleek smile. "Yes," he says. "It was."
We reach the dais, a stone table set before it, just as it was before. The Overseer invites Marcus to lay down, relax, and imagine his full strength being unearthed. His face holds a thrill, tantalised by the prospect. He can't have known he had anything more to give. A man like Marcus would have trained his entire life. To learn there's something deeper to be unearthed is exciting news indeed.
"Brie, this shouldn't be hard for you now," the Overseer says. "I sense a strong connecting between you two, a deep bond. This will only strengthen it. Your lives are set to become entwined."
I step to the side of the stone slab, as Minerva takes position by my side. Her voice trickles to my ears, a calming potion as it always is. "Look deep, sister," she says. "I had to search hard, but could only see it, not reach it. There is a well inside him. Bring it forth."
I shut my eyes and fall, tumbling into the strange realm where I spend so much of my time now. It is with a profound ease that I slip into Marcus's mind and navigate to the source of his power. It takes no effort at all to descend to the depths, the places Minerva cannot go, and awaken the sleeping strength that lies dormant within. It isn't even a challenge to me now, not after all I've done. I merely blink in and out and step back, as Minerva turns to me with a look of wonder painted upon her pale skin.
"It...is done?" she asks.
"It is done," I say.
On the stone slab, Marcus opens his eyes and sits up, turning as his legs dangle to the floor. Those warm brown irises now carry a thin ring of hazel light, just as so many others do. His lips part into a smile, turning to me and me alone.
"How do you feel, Marcus?" the Overseer asks. "Stronger, I hope?"
He nods, staring at me.
"You are grateful," the Overseer goes on. "And so you should be. Many thousands now owe Brie their service, and their lives. Many more will follow. Do you wish to serve her?"
The Neoroman nods again.
"Of course you do. Because you love her, do you not?"
The smile on his face doesn't shift. His eyes do not glance away, embarrassed by the reveal. He merely stares at me, and nods once more. "I do," he whispers.
"Then show her," says the Overseer. "Show her through your actions, through your service. You will protect her, always. You will watch over her, and make sure she never comes to harm."
"I will," he says.
"I know you will," the Overseer continues, his voice reverberating softly around the great, fire-lit hall. "You two were always destined to come here together. Your futures were always set to coil and merge into one. Together, you will begin a new dynasty here. How would you like that?"
His eyes work to us both, one by one. I see Marcus nodding, his eyes glazed with deep affection. I smile back, my expression responding in kind. Yet behind it, somewhere deep, I find another face manifesting. Silver eyes. Dark hair. Tall, pale, lean.
Adryan, I think.
"I am still married to Adryan," I say, blinking as the memory of my husband comes.
I look, suddenly, at the Overseer, the spell momentarily broken. His eyes shift and narrow. A malice assumes control of his face.
"Your marriage was a sham, child," he says, his voice low. "A contrivance and nothing more. You will not think of Adryan any longer. He will not occupy your thoughts."
His words ring out across the hall, echoing violently. A throb of fear accompanies them, the firelight casting shadows upon the walls. They seem to form into beasts and ghouls, spectres turning towards me, eyes shining bright. I cower and turn and dip my head into a nod.
"Look at Marcus," the Overseer goes on, his voice softening once again. "Look at him, child."
I do as I'm commanded.
"He loves you, can you not see it? Would you deny him, Brie?"
I shake my head. "Of course not."
"You form a perfect match. Unity. Power. Perfection." He looks to the stage, to the dual seats of the Prime, sitting lonely and unoccupied. And as he does, he smiles. "Everything is happening just as we'd hoped."
A silence falls. The distant unease in me begins to swell, yet falls as I feel my hand being squeezed. I turn to the side and find Marcus there next to me, his hand gripping to mine, his face forged of bliss.
"What a pair you make," the Overseer says, his eyebrows slanted, firelight dancing in his green-gold eyes. "Oh, what a pair."
He turns to the doorway, filled with the light of the sun. "Come, children," he says, staring out. "This is Krun's day too. We must honour his rise."
He steps away, and Minerva begins to follow. I see a slight frame of confusion in her eyes, as though she isn't quite sure what just happened. I'm drawn after them, Marcus stepping away, his hand gripped to mine and refusing to let go.
And with each step, the unease weakens, evaporating like water on the boil. By the time I step out into the light, my troubles have fled once more, banished to the barren darkness of my mind.
176
AMBER
"We're to leave tomorrow morning," says grandma, turning her eyes over Burton, Bryan, and Keith. "We'll leave a strong force here to protect the people. The rest of the militia will travel to the coalition camp. Our task is to blockade the city with the help of the Havenite troops. One of us will have to stay here and lead in our absence." She looks to the three men. "Who will it be?"
I stand beside Jude, watching on, the air turning briefly tense in the confines of that small office room, affixed to the large warehouse-turned-barrack.
"Certainly not me," growls Burton, first to speak. "I have not come this far to be kept aside from the action."
"None of us have, Burton," says Keith. "The militia have been primarily under my command. I would not leave them to march without me."
"Only a portion will march," counters Burton. "Someone will have to command the remainder that stay."
The men fall into a temporary stalemate. Eyes narrow and then seem to come to some silent agreement. They turn to Bryan. So do the rest of us.
"Me?" Bryan says, his voice going comically high-pitched. "Why should it fall to me? I have every right to come as well..."
"You are the youngest," says Burton, as Keith nods along. "And have been responsible for housing the people here. You are the obvious choice, Bryan, to watch over them while we're gone."
"But...I have no experience running the militia," he counters, looking quite uncomfortable at the prospect. "How many do you plan to leave behind?"
Alberta looks to Keith. "How many do we have, in total now? I told General Decimus it was roughly three thousand five hundred, with another thousand set to be armed. Is that correct?"
Keith nods. "It is,” he says. "The extra firearms Secretary Burns provided will bring the total to almost four and a half thousand. How many would you intend to bring to Olympus?"
"I said we'd muster at least two thousand. I'd prefer to bring more if we can."
"I don't see why that would be a problem," Keith says. "As soon as the city is surrounded, we won't have to worry about Hunter's Station being attacked. Assuming there are no Olympian patrols trapped beyond the city."
"We believe all soldiers will have been gathered behind the walls by now," grandma says. "The militia here will largely be required to help keep the peace among the population, distribute rations, and so on. I assume a couple of thousand should be plenty for that job."
"My father can help," I find myself saying. I blurt it out randomly. "He's, er, he's good at managing stuff like that. He can help Bryan out, if he's the one who stays."
"Richard has a rational nature," grandma nods. "He'll be well suited to that sort of administrative role within the militia."
She nods to me, knowing my ulterior motive, and sharing it herself. Both of us, of course, want my father to remain safe. He'll likely be more so here than helping blockade a city under siege. And besides, I dou
bt my mother would allow him to go. She was a bit of a nervous wreck when I visited her a couple of nights ago, worried in equal parts for me, my father, and Lilly, and sparing no such concerns for herself.
"That sounds reasonable to me," Burton says. "We have some senior figures in the militia who can stay and help out as well, while Bryan sees to the management of the people and town itself." He looks around, as though the matter is settled. Bryan opens his mouth, preparing to object, but no such words issue forth as the conversation resumes, drowning him out.
"Three thousand, then, could be taken to Olympus," says Keith. "It'll take time to muster them this evening if we're to be ready to leave tomorrow. And we'll need to bring supply wagons with us as well. It'll be a busy night, Alberta."
"It is a busy time, Keith," she responds with a smile. "If you find yourself over-stretching, then two and a half thousand should also be fine. We will bolster the thousand City Guards from New Haven, and may receive some support from the Neoroman legion too. Those numbers will be sufficient. But, of course, the more the better."
"Then I shall get to it immediately," says Keith. "Jude, would you lend your support?"
"Of course," says Jude.
The two men immediately march off, the decision taken quickly and acted out without delay. Bryan looks a little shellshocked by it all.
"You should probably follow, Bryan," says grandma, offering him a consoling touch to the shoulder. "Keith will put you in touch with a couple of his men, who will stay behind to lend support. He'll introduce you to my son as well. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to help."
Bryan nods a little timidly, draws a breath as if to muster his courage, and then moves off. That leaves only my grandmother, Burton, and myself behind.
"Now," she says, turning to Burton. "You mentioned some news before we started, Burt? Anything to concern us?"
"Possibly, yes," he says, his face so grim even good news would seem bad from his lips. "It follows on from the rumours we've heard already, about some Fringers heading willingly to Olympus."