by T. C. Edge
"And Jude? He'll be with Keith, I'm guessing?"
"I would imagine that makes sense, yes."
I nod, thinking that's probably the best place for him, as the sky rumbles with what sounds like thunder. It isn't of course; it is the relentless bombardment of the southern gate, quite some way away from us now as we move, as a grand convoy, around to our first stop in the west.
We don't take long to get there, the Neoroman troops setting the pace and reaching the proposed campsite first, with the City Guards not far behind. Given that much of our own forces are travelling in slower carts and wagons, we're a little way behind, but arrive eventually to find the first blockade being hastily erected, replete with mobile gun placements and bunkers, and enormous artillery weapons preparing to begin their own siege.
Here, Keith takes his portion of our men to begin setting up at the rear. I have little time to stop and bid Jude farewell before the remaining two-thirds of our forces continue on our rounds towards the north.
"Be careful, Jude," I tell him. "And be forceful. You're likely to have Fringers coming your way and trying to break through the lines. Try to show them a better path, OK?"
"And you? Where are you going to be?"
"I'm wasted here," I tell him. "I might try to move around, like grandma, but my place is in the main camp. I'm a weapon, after all." I smile wryly, but all he does is shake his head.
"You know you're not, Amber. Don't let them use you. Not unless you're really willing." He takes me into a hug, strong arms gripping tight, so familiar, so safe. "I'll see you soon. Real soon, OK?"
Suddenly, I'm just a girl again, nodding silently as he pulls away. He leans in to me, his lips diverting late. They connect with the soft skin of my cheek.
And a moment later, he's gone.
I sit silent for the next stage, as we work towards the north. It doesn't take long, my mind occupied, centred for a time on Jude. Before I know it, we're arriving at the second camp, and our remaining forces are split in two. This time, it's Burton who takes position, leaving my grandmother and me to continue around to the east.
And so it goes, the day fading away as the blockade is fully set. We spend a little more time at the eastern camp, making sure that everything is set up properly, that the militia are camped and bedded in, and the eastern flank fully watched over, before continuing around to the main encampment once more. We aren't alone, Commander Hendricks following the same path as us through the day, and making sure that the City Guards are set up, just as we did our militia. He, however, also wishes to remain primarily at the central base. It is ground zero, really, for the siege, where the decisions are taken, the greater strategy set. A man like Hendricks, as with my grandmother, wouldn't want to miss out.
We arrive back with the light beginning to fade on the first day of pummelling the city. I have tried, mostly, to keep my worries in check, the lingering concern that Lilly might be caught up in the bombing, that Decimus will seek targets beyond the wall. Right now, they are mostly firing blind, the southern fortifications occasionally glowing orange and red, the fumes lit by fires, exploding upon the thick stone with each resounding impact.
It reminds me so clearly of the bombardment of New Haven, only weeks ago now. I had felt uncomfortable with that, concerned that we were targeting civilians. Now, I have the same worries, centred of course on one person in particular.
We move into the camp, Commander Hendricks joining us and leading the way.
"You have a tent of your own set up," he says, "towards the centre of the encampment. It was assumed that both of you would be staying here, at least in part."
"Thank you, Glenn," grandma says. "That was very thoughtful of you."
"Well, you can thank Leyton for that, Alberta. Your quarters are next to his. It's not a huge place, but big enough to cater to you both. I hope it suits you."
It turns out, it suits us both just fine. No, it's not huge, but only when compared to the main command marquee, where General Decimus stays in an affixed lodging, and the royal marquee, quite staggering in its embellishments and unnecessary in its size. We're not far away from those, within a collection of rather more meagre allotments - though still plenty large enough for us - intended for the use of the military leaders. Hendricks has his own, as does Secretary Burns, his tent slightly larger and, as I understand it, shared with Brie's husband, Adryan, who has come here to lend his assistance, in whatever form that takes.
I'm happy to hear - though also a little surprised - that Elian has also been set up nearby, and will be sharing with Perses. The thinking, I suppose, was to put the two lofty Olympians together, despite their troubled history.
Given Perses's proclivities for staying up all night, however, I imagine Elian will have the place to himself.
I see him when I arrive, lingering around outside the tent that, we're told, belongs to Burns. As my grandmother is briefly shown around by Hendricks, I step over towards him. We haven't really spoken in several days, only sharing a look yesterday afternoon before setting off from the fort. I have to say, it's exciting to see him glowing again.
"How's guard duty?" I ask, grinning as I approach. "I assume that's what you're doing?"
"Nothing else to do," he says lightly. "The Secretary told me it wasn't necessary, but..." He shrugs. "Like I say, I'm not offering much else around here."
"You could have come with us," I tell him. "Seen the other blockades and camps."
"I've got a duty here now. If there's an attack, I want to be able to protect him."
He seems awfully serious about the role, which might have been surprising once upon a time. Elian - well, the old Elian, anyway - isn't exactly the sort to want to spend his time as bodyguard for someone else. This new version, though? He seems a lot more dutiful, less preoccupied in self-interest, and working for the greater good.
I rather like the change. It's almost as though he's trying to emulate Jude in that regard. I might be reading far too much into it, but...well, it does seem possible.
"So, how's it going over there?" he asks me, as I move to join him. "The other camps, I mean?"
"Fine, I guess. Similar to here, just smaller."
"Sounds like they're bombarding from all sides now." His eyes shine out, northward to the city, the skies beginning to darken above us. "It's all quite...familiar, isn't it?"
"Morbidly so," I sigh. "Not sure it's going to turn out the same, though."
"As in...us being asked to burn the city down from the inside?" He lifts a playful brow. "You sure about that, Amber. Have you met General Decimus?"
"He can't command us," I say. "We're...free agents, I guess."
"I wasn't being serious, you know. I don't think he actually wants us to burn our own city down, Amber."
"Probably not, no," I admit. "But I wouldn't necessarily put it past him."
"Ah, I do love a bit of naysaying..."
The words come sleek and sharp, issued from red lips to match the young woman's hair. We both turn, at the same time, to see Kira striding toward us from the royal marquee. She looks well rested, a glow about her skin, her enviously athletic frame currently wrapped in Neoroman robes, deeply crimson and a fine look for her.
Most surprising of all, I suppose, is the fact that she no longer has a crutch with her. She seems to be walking just fine without it.
"Naysaying?" I ask. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You forget, both of you, that my ears hear more than most." Her feline eyes dart left and right, scanning as she comes. "I'd be careful with how openly you speak out here. Leave that sort of talk for the privacy of your tents."
"Just being honest," I say. "I'm not entitled to my opinion now?"
"Sure you are. But it may come with consequence." She reaches us, seeming happy that we're alone. There are a few guards lingering about, but they're mostly focussed on other things, the air cloaked by the constant din of explosions in the distance. "For what it's worth," she says quietly, "I'm of a similar
mind. But Dom's convinced Decimus is the right man for the job, so I'm happy giving him a chance."
"To be fair, Amber, the man has won countless campaigns," says Elian. "I was speaking with a Neoroman driver on the way here yesterday. He's served under the General for years. Says he doesn't know failure."
"I'm sure he doesn't. But at what cost?" I ask. "This isn't a normal siege. This is about taking out the Prime. However it's done, that's the priority. And if people get in the way..." I let the words hang. My suggestion is clear.
"I understand your concerns, Amber," Kira says, turning her eyes to the city. "I have them myself. But I've been told off for being overly negative, so I'm going do the same with you now." She looks at me and takes my shoulder in a firm grip. "We'll work it out," she says, though I sense she's only half committed to the sentiment. "I'm gonna get Brie out. You're gonna save your sister. All will be well with the world, you'll see."
I crinkle my nose in a show of feigned disgust. "I'm not sure I like you like this," I say. "Blind optimism doesn't suit you." I grin to show her it's a joke. I think she probably knew already.
"I'm trying it on for size," she says. "Sure, it's ill-fitting right now, but perhaps I'll grow into it?"
"Please don't," I say. "I prefer you as you are. You look great, by the way." I step back to admire her. "Is this how you dress over in Neorome?"
"Oh sure," she says, performing an uncharacteristic twirl. "This is all the rage in Neorome. Maybe you'll get to see, when you come over for my wedding?"
"Wedding," I say, unable to contain my interest. "Is this an official invite?"
"Sure, why not," she says. "Both of you can come along, assuming, you know, we don't all die horrific deaths. Let's call it a provisional invite."
"On the provision that we're not dead?" Elian says, deadpan.
She points him in the face. "Got it, Elian. Got it in one." She looks at us both. "You two would fit in handsomely over there. Get some golden robes to match your eyes and hair." She nods. "Could be quite striking."
"I'd feel honoured, Kira," I say to her, my voice suddenly small and girlishly innocent. I can't help my mind from conjuring such an event, praying it transpires. I can, in fact, think of little else I'd like more than to see her get wed, to sail the sea and visit Neorome. I hardly need an extra reason to give this war my all, but the prospect is undeniably tantalising.
The short, animated conversation doesn't persist for long, however. Naturally, the weight of what lies ahead, the rather significant hurdle that still needs to be jumped - or, more likely, scrambled across with great difficulty and multiple injuries - draws our attention once more. A silence sets itself up between us, as though no one, all of a sudden, knows what to say. Thankfully, we don't need to say anything. From across the nearby campsite, my grandmother reappears, still with Commander Hendricks.
"Amber, come here please," she says. "You're needed in the main command tent."
I look to Kira and Elian. Both raise their eyes.
"Now, please," she continues. "We have to report on the day's events."
I nod a goodbye to the others, and rush on over to her, wondering why she can't do it alone. A moment later, we're arriving before two staggeringly colossal Titans, similar in size, especially in that thick armour, to Atlas, or at least Krun.
Is he dead? I wonder idly, thinking briefly of Krun. He was there at the battle outside the fort, tossing grenades at me as I flew. But, I don't remember seeing him among the fallen...
The thought dissipates, as the two mighty Titans step to the side and allow us passage into the command tent, a large, open space, where General Decimus stands at a central table, Ares alongside him. The two seem to be engaged in a conversation about troop movements. Ares, in his position as head of the Imperial Guard, may be one of the few who has the General's ear.
They stop when we arrive, turning their attention up to us. "So," says General Decimus, raising one of those sleek, silver eyebrows. "Tell me, how did it go today?"
I feel like a child stepping before the headmaster, alongside a couple of other naughty students. Thankfully, those students are rather more vocal than I am. And in my grandmother's case, much more naughty.
"It went as expected, General," grandma says casually. "The city is encircled and all routes in and out cut off. We shouldn't have to worry about refugees heading for Olympus anymore."
"Good," he says brusquely. "And your City Guards, Commander Hendricks?"
Hendricks tilts up his chin, his eyes glancing to Ares. He doesn't seem to know what the General is actually asking. "They're...they're set up nicely, General," he says, less forthright than I've seen him. I've spent weeks seeing Hendricks question and query the other commanders, often causing a bit of tension with the likes of Perses or Max. To see him so ashen in the face of this esteemed Neoroman war hero is, I must admit, a little amusing.
"And the rosters are set?" asks Decimus, looking up at Hendricks from the map on the table, depicting Olympus and the immediate lands surrounding the city. "All possible attack points are being closely monitored and watched? The lines are being protected?"
"Um...all of the...the above," Hendricks says. "They are working in line with your own cohorts. The city is..."
"The city is watertight, General," interrupts my grandmother, not quite so cowed by the man. "But as Amber rightly pointed out to me earlier, a large scale attack on any of those positions will render them vulnerable. The same could be said of here, now that a third of your legion has gone."
"The flanks are well watched, Alberta," says Decimus immediately. "The absent cohorts have orders to reassemble should a large scale attack be detected. We can quickly draw our component parts back together, if required. Or, should an attack occur on any such camp, the others will be immediately alerted, and the enemy pushed back. If that were to happen, we might just count ourselves lucky."
My grandmother begins to nod, pursing her lips. "Impressive, General," she says. "So splitting the camp like this is a partial lure, is it? A way to draw an attack."
"It's one part of the picture, yes," he says. "To send troops, they'd have to lower the bridge and open the gates. It might give us a chance to make some inroads, if we're quick."
"But they'd just...draw the bridge up again, wouldn't they?" I find myself asking. "It's not like they'd leave it down for you to just walk right through."
"No, they wouldn't," General Decimus says, his voice swift as a swallow in its delivery. "But if they did that, Amber, their troops would be stranded, and vulnerable to being wiped out. We fancy our chances in the field, should they be so bold."
"Your artillery would certainly help," grandma adds, seeming on board with the General's line of thinking. "If a bridge were to be lowered, you might be able to target it. It would be far more susceptible to damage when down. Snapping the chains or pulleys would render it useless. It might well fall into its lowered position, and not be able to be raised back up again."
The General nods along, fully aware of all of this already. "As I say, it's part of the picture. Whatever they do, we have a possible counter to it. If they choose to just stay within their walls, we will batter them down eventually. Either way, we'll make them snap."
He turns to me at that, an interested look in his eye. I wonder, again, if I'm being considered as a contingency. I can't deny it's something I haven't thought about myself, and wouldn't be entirely averse to if asked.
Could I break through the walls? I wonder. Would my fire be hot enough for that?
It seems fanciful, and yet not impossible either. If I could get close enough, perhaps it would be an option, especially if I was with Elian. Alone, we'd surely be shot down, bombarded by the city defences. But if we were being protected by the legion, perhaps it could work...
That, I imagine, is the source of the General's interest in me. It is probably somewhere down the list, a plan E or F or something, one to be considered when all else fails. But were it to be broached, I might just accept
the challenge. Getting through those walls, after all, is paramount. Only once we're in, can the final battle truly begin.
The meeting concludes, seeming a rather pointless affair. I suppose it's merely the General's nature, wanting to know precisely what's going on, hearing updates from his subjects when any part of the grander scheme is undertaken.
I return to Elian, however, with a thought forming in my mind. He stands alone once more, Kira having clearly abandoned him. I ask him where she went. "Rehab," he says. "She seems pretty intent on getting that ankle in fighting shape again."
I smile and nod. "She's back," I say, happy to see Kira's spirits raised once more. The arrival of Domitian, certainly, has helped.
"Seems like it," he says, nodding.
"Rather like you," I tell him, looking at his renewed vigour and glow.
He lets out a puff of air from his lips, and shakes his head. "I'm hardly back," he says. "I'm a glorified bouncer, that's all."
"Well then let's change that, shall we?" I say, looking eastward over the darkening plains, barely visible here in the midst of the camp.
We need canyons, I think. Ideally close by...
"Like what?" he asks me, turning in the direction of my eyes. "What are you talking about, Amber? I'm committed to protecting the Secretary..."
He looks back at me, and sees the smile forming upon my lips.
"And you will," I tell him, "but not all the time. I'm talking about me and you, Elian, getting back to work."
His eyes lift interestedly, as I allow a vortex of fire to swirl around my legs, gently pressing me up off the ground.
A smile shines upon my face. "How would you like to learn to fly?" I ask.
179
BRIE