by T. C. Edge
My words seem to warm her. She dips her eyes in supplication. And I will always serve.
I return to the main conversation, and notice the Overseer glancing over, a knowing smile on his lips. He may have been listening. He may have heard. The man's gifts remain a mystery to me, the true depths of his power unknown. He cannot control the masses as I can, but there is a great deal more he can do. Things I have yet to learn...
"I would like to make one point," comes the smooth but direct voice of Lady Dianna. She stands from her seat, dressed in green robes to match her eyes, her hair sleek and white, skin so clear and pure it's almost translucent.
"Yes, Lady Dianna?" the Overseer says, a little guarded. "What is it?"
"I understand," she begins, "that war forces us to do terrible things." She looks around the gathering, confident in her address. "When we marched to New Haven, the intention was to destroy it from the inside. Many of us felt...uncomfortable with that, but we were willing to do it, in the name of the Prime."
Faces brighten, just a little. But not as they once did. I feel a familiar warmth, a joy, but it isn't as powerful as before. The Prime's powers, their influence, is weakening, I know. They are not as they seem, ancient and dying. That is one thing I do recall...
"We do it all in the name of the Prime," the Overseer says, reinforcing Dianna's point. "Some actions we are forced to take may appear cruel, or heartless, but it is always for the greater good. You understand that, don't you, Dianna? You all understand that?"
Heads nod within the courtyard. Lady Dianna's does so too. It seems a begrudging movement, as though one she cannot prevent.
"Then what is the problem?" asks the Overseer. "What do you want to say?"
She draws a breath, frowning, as though not entirely certain of the point she was intending to make. "I...I suppose." She stops and thinks for a moment. The thought seems to come, her face showing a recollection. "I suppose it's about the Fringers." She looks to me, voice picking up some verve and speed. "Awakening them is one thing; perhaps they wished for it. But to then have all those newly awakened Fringers attack the main enemy encampment? That was suicide, en masse, and nothing more. It makes me a little uncomfortable that we would resort to such a thing."
I listen to her words, but they find it hard settling in my head. Orders, I think. Orders to attack the camp? Did I do that? I look over to Marcus, who glares out into the assembly, steadfast by the Overseer's side. Did I cause all of this?
A sense of disquiet begins to fill me, as muted recollections spring from the depths. It was me, I quickly come to know. I awakened hundreds, and put orders into their heads.
Attack the Neoroman base, I'd told them. Follow the four soldiers in black. Do all that they command.
I feel a long-fingered hand take a soft grip of my arm. It pats gently, soothing.
"As you said yourself, Dianna," the Overseer says, looking out towards the Chosen Phaser. "War makes us do terrible things. Were those Fringers sacrificed?" He begins to nod. "Yes. But it was a necessary evil, not a wanton one. It helped to cause havoc in the enemy encampment, and turn the tide of this war in our favour. Life is valuable, yes, but the loss of hundreds, even thousands becomes inconsequential in the great span of time. Sacrifices must be made if we are to prevail, and spread peace to the lands to the south. That is our only goal. We must do everything we can to see it done, no matter how distressing it may be."
His words seem to somewhat quell Lady Dianna's uncertainty. She nods and slowly takes a seat as the others show faces of understanding and agreement.
"Good," the Overseer continues. "Now, is there anything else?"
No one says or word, or stands to their feet to address the gathering. They sit like neutered dogs, bowing now to their true master.
"Well then," he finishes. "We shall adjourn right here for now. Continue with your duties. Much still remains to be done."
The crowd begins to stand and disperse, the various colours of their robes fluttering in a light breeze as they move off under the morning sun. Minerva hangs back, looking over at us as we stand upon the stage.
"Come here, Minerva," the Overseer says. She trots over eagerly, her grey cloak flowing on the wind. "Would you escort Brie back to her quarters. I see no reason to tax her today. Relax, and enjoy yourselves. Drink some wine if it pleases you. I know you like to cook, Minerva. Why not prepare something nice?"
Minerva looks positively buoyed by the prospect, nodding vociferously. "That sounds wonderful," she beams, turning to look at me. "I will cook you my finest dish, sister. It really is delicious when I get it right."
She lays an arm around my waist, hugging me gently and preparing to turn me away. I look at Marcus, his face so cold and detached. When I lock eyes with him, it brightens suddenly, as though conditioned to do so only around me.
"Why don't you go as well, Marcus," the Overseer goes on. "You have earned the rest as well."
"As you command, Master."
Minerva holds her smile, though doesn't look entirely pleased. "And what will you do, Master Overseer?" she says smoothly. "Will you not join us?"
"I may, later," he says, "if I find the time. For now, however, I must visit with the Prime. I have to update them on what has been happening."
He leaves with a typical swish of his robes, striding off on ancient legs toward the Temple of the Prime. I watch on, the feeling of unease inside me trying to cling on, though gradually being drawn back into the shadows. The shadows where the monster lurks, that monster with two heads, and eyes of light.
And those lights.
They are going out.
191
AMBER
I wake to the morning light, flooding in through a crack in the tent's opening. It moves with the sun, a thin shaft cut right across my eyes. I blink and shift back into the shadows, sitting up on aching bones. It's always the case after I empty the tanks. You feel like you've just gone twelve rounds the next morning.
Is it the next morning? I wonder, recollecting my final moments, as I passed out by Perses's side, and probably into his arms. Maybe I've slept through the next day too...
I certainly feel it as I peel myself off my mat, vaguely looking around to see if anyone is in here with me. It's somewhat surprising to find that I'm alone. Usually in these situations, someone sits with you, waiting until you awake.
Oh well.
I creep out of the tent, still dressed in my Fire-Blood armour, to find the camp still knitting itself together after the previous night's madness. There's a coating of dust and ash on the ground, some of it still swirling around as it's kicked up by passing soldiers. Ahead, within the main command centre, I see movement in the shadows. Outside, the two enormous Titans under General Decimus's charge stand guard, armoured and silent as they always are.
I stagger out a little, my body aching, my head a bit of a blur. I feel hungry, thirsty, and dazed by the glowing sunlight. I brace myself and look up to try to determine the time. It's early still, the morning young. And in the air, I smell death.
It's a familiar scent to me, that of burning flesh, mingled with the smell of smoke and fumes. I find the source, smoke pouring from both sides of the camp, away to the north and down in the south. It takes me a moment to realise that it isn't another attack, but mass cremations of the soldiers as they're quickly gathered up for burning.
With thoughts of that morbid day outside the fort haunting my mind, I consider stepping back into my tent and returning to hiding. I glance around. No one's seen me, have they? I could just slip back inside, and let this all blow over...
"Ah, Amber, you're up..."
My head dips forward, deflating like a popped balloon. I turn to find Secretary Burns stepping over. Behind him, several City Guard soldiers move from a tent, a tent belonging to Commander Hendricks. They're carrying a body. I look a little closer.
His body.
"Oh, yes," Burns says, nodding sombrely. "I suppose you haven't yet heard."
"He
's...dead?" I ask, mournful.
"He fell during the fighting in the south of the camp," Burns tells me. "The Fringers from Hunter's Station, they had a number of elite soldiers with them, according to Kira..."
"Sorry," I say, a little confused. "The Fringers were from Hunter's Station?" I shake my head. I must have heard wrong. "How...how could that be?"
"You've missed a few things," Burns explains, sounding a little weary himself. He rubs his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Are you hungry? Come, I'll tell you all about it."
He leads me to his own tent, a simple place partitioned into sections, allowing him and Adryan to sleep separately. There's a small foldable table and chairs in the central living space, some food there for snacking. He pours me a cup of water and sits me down, taking a cup for himself. My mind swirls with worries, extrapolating all sorts of fears like twine unwinding from a ball. His manner, however, helps relax me.
"You have lost no one dear," he says first, putting that fear to bed. He knows my mind, of course. He is quick to settle me before providing a full explanation.
For a few minutes, then, he offers a complete update on what has been happening, giving me a chance to digest it all as I eat. I sit and listen, hearing of what happened in Hunter's Station, Brie's part in it, the likely influence of the preachers - whom, I feel with a dull throb of regret, I should have done more to track down - and everything else he feels I should know.
Once he's finished, he lends me a moment to think. I let it all settle before speaking, turning my mind ahead.
"So what now?" I ask, looking up to the tent's exit. "They're still out there cleaning up the dead?"
"They should be nearly finished by now," he explains. "Even the Emperor has gone out there to help."
I find myself impressed, but unsurprised. Domitian strikes me as a man of the people, not the sort of Emperor to stay hidden in his gilded quarters.
"And the General?" I ask, already certain of the answer.
He shakes his head. "He remains in the command tent," he says. "There will be a meeting soon to provide a full debrief of events. He will want you there too, so long as you're well rested."
"Well enough," I say, taking a bite out of an apple. "You said Elian's already up?"
"He's been up for some time, I think. He went out to help as well."
"Then perhaps I should too," I say, standing. I take my cup and down the rest of the contents. It's amazing what a bit of food and water can do.
We step together back into the clearing, our timing quite appropriate as it turns out. There, moving into our own tent nearly, I see my grandmother and Jude, clearly checking to see that I'm OK. To my surprise, Elian is with them, though stays at the flap and doesn't go inside. I watch for a moment, finding the sight almost comical, as my grandmother and Jude emerge after a moment, shrugging and shaking their heads, eyes looking around.
It takes them only a moment to spot me, standing beside Burns outside his tent. I don't know who I want to hug more. In the end, I merely stand my ground and let them decide.
Grandmother, of course, presses herself to the front, pulling me into an abbreviated embrace, before holding her hands to my shoulders, staring into my eyes a moment, and then quickly checking me over for injury. I'm certain, at this point, that she's been told I'm fine multiple times, but it appears she needs to confirm it for herself.
Next...well, no one goes next. It looks as though neither Jude nor Elian want to show me any affection in front of the other. Instead, they merely step into the circle, and allow my grandmother to stay in front of me.
"You know what's been happening?" she asks. She glances to Burns. "You've updated her, Leyton?"
"I have, Alberta," he says. "She knows that her father was not among the dead, nor anyone else of close kinship."
"But we don't know he's safe, do we?" I say, a fresh concern coming to mind. "We have no idea what's happening in Hunter's Station. Maybe there was a fight there between the militia and those Brie awakened? Maybe these elite soldiers went on a killing spree? Maybe..."
"Stop, Amber," says Jude, drawing my eyes with a firm intonation. "Stop speculating. I'm going to head back there and find out, OK. I'm worried about Grace too. I need to know she's safe."
"Safe?" I shake my head. "Is it safe to go back there? We don't know what else Brie's done."
"Been made to do," Burns corrects me. It seems like semantics, but his face shows he's not being needlessly pernickety. "None of this is truly Brie's doing. I will have us all remember that."
"I...I know, Leyton," I say. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"I know, I know you didn't. But I want to ensure the distinction is understood."
"It won't be us you have to worry about," Elian says. He looks over towards the command tent. I notice Emperor Domitian and Maximus marching towards it, Perses and Adryan also joining them. There seems to be no sign of Ares and Kira.
We all gaze in that direction for a moment, knowing we'll be summoned by the General shortly.
"My point stands," I say, looking on. "It isn't safe to go back there."
"Nothing's Prime-damned safe anymore, Amber," Jude says, exasperated. "But I'm going back anyway."
"He won't be alone, darling," grandma says placatingly. "Keith is going as well, along with some of our militia. They can handle themselves."
"I will send a small contingent of City Guards with you," Burns adds, lending his support. "We can spare a few from the blockade for now."
Jude raises his eyes. "Good enough?" he says. "If you're so worried, you can come too. No one's stopping you, Amber. Or maybe persuade Elian to come for the ride as well. Perhaps Perses, or half the damn legion..."
"OK Jude, I get the picture. I have a right to be worried about you, you know. It doesn't make me a bad person."
"No, but it makes me feel about this small," he says, pinching his fingers together. He blows out a breath, and glances at Elian. "I can't do what you can do. I'm not some super-being. I'm just a normal guy, trying to do my part. But that doesn't mean I've got to be treated like I'm incompetent, or in mortal peril all the time. You don't do it with anyone else..."
"That's not true!" I cut in. Our words are getting a little louder now, drawing a few eyes. "I worry about the people I care about Jude, no matter who they are." I look at Elian. "I worry about you, don't I." He doesn't answer immediately "Don't I?!"
"Yes, yes," Elian stammers. His eyes rise awkwardly, looking to Jude. "She's a worrier, I guess." He finishes with a shrug, and looks away.
"Might I suggest a bit of calm," comes the ever-composed voice of Leyton Burns. "Tensions are high, and we all have people we care about here. Let us resolve this quietly. Now, I will see to those City Guards, if you are intent on leaving?"
Jude nods, resolute. "Keith's waiting to the south of camp," he says. "We'll go as quick as we can, and try to get back by tomorrow morning. I doubt we'll make it before nightfall, and travelling at night might not be sensible."
"None of it is sensible," I mutter.
Jude glares directly at me. "Don't you want to know that your parents are OK?" he asks. "You went all the way to that faith re-alignment camp to free them, didn't you? And suddenly you're like 'whatever'."
"Of course I want to know," I grumble.
"Then what are you complaining about?"
I have no answer. No reason I haven't already given.
"Right," Jude goes on. "Like I was saying. I'll be back as soon as possible, probably with nothing to report." He looks to the group. "I'll see you all tomorrow. Secretary Burns, if you could see about those City Guards?"
"Of course. I'll come with you now." He looks to the rest of us. "I imagine you're wanted in the debrief. Go ahead, I'll catch up."
I know Jude well enough to know that he wants to hug me and tell me goodbye, but cannot bring himself to do it now, not after what he's said. It's a flash of eye contact and nothing more, but it's all I need to know his mind.
He marches off with Burns
instead, doing so abruptly. Elian watches him go. "He's actually a pretty good leader, you know. He's quite forceful in his convictions."
"People have always gravitated to Jude," grandma says. "He has a magnetism to him, but his passions, as you can see, can run a little high sometimes." She turns her eyes again to the command tent. "They'll be fine," she goes on. "It's us here I'm more worried about."
I follow her gaze and find Maximus stepping outside. His eyes turn around the clearing and land on our position. He raises a hand and waves us over.
"Right," says grandma, leading us on. "Let's see what the General makes of all this."
192
AMBER
We step into the tent, torches hanging on posts in the corners, adding to the sunlight that streams in through the opens flaps. The table in the centre is surrounded by the leaders of the various factions, added to now by us as we move in to join them. Once more, I notice that only Ares and Kira are absent. The rest are already in discussion, the latest updates being given by General Decimus as he stands at the centre of the table.
His eyes lift to us as we enter, briefly interrupting him. "Secretary Burns?" he asks, his voice a gravelly growl. His silver eyes glint like forged steel, his weathered skin tight and leathery.
"He'll be here shortly," grandma says, as we take position at the table.
The General nods, his expression all shadows and staring eyes. I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to blink. He doesn't, not for some time. It's as though he's refusing to miss a thing.
He addresses me next, me and Elian, who steps in by my side. "Thank you for your quick thinking, both of you," he says. "I have heard what you did and greatly appreciate your assistance. Your loyalty has been proven, as has Perses's."
I look to Perses, his jaw like granite, his head a boulder atop mountainous peaks. He doesn't like General Decimus, I can tell. The man delivers praise faintly, and never sounds truly sincere. It's as though we're merely expected to kill our own countrymen, to follow his commands as though we owe him something.