by T. C. Edge
There are others with her too, Heralds Mendel and Zakiya, and the other Heralds of Awakening. I see the rest of the Chosen, whose names I don't yet know. The Skymaster. The Farsight. The Tracer and Perceiver. There are others, too, who didn't come out to fight, their gifts or constitution not suiting them to war. Hopefully they will never be required to make such a choice again.
"Sister," calls Minerva, rushing right up to me. She takes my hands and looks into my eyes. "Are you all right?"
She turns to the temple, fearful, afraid now of that place. The rest do the same, the veil lifted. They see everything for the lie it was, the Prime's influence and glow now gone.
"I'm fine, Minerva," I tell her. "The city is free."
She smiles and turns away from the temple, and we move off towards the top of the steps. My Hawk eyes take in the carnage themselves, though they're not required to. I see it all, though the eyes of others, the streets and squares, the apartments and public spaces. I see the thousands of dead, the thousands more injured, the devastation all through the city.
And looking through the eyes ringed hazel, I stop at one, for just a moment. I see Amber, tears in her eyes, smiling, with Elian by her side, and another young woman with soft brown hair and pretty blue eyes. I instinctively know that I am in the mind of Amber's sister, Lilly, whom I must have awakened at some earlier time. The woman with them is her mistress, Lady Felina, her mind now freed of the Prime's controls. I know it without having to learn it. It is in the mind of Lilly, and so it is in my mind too.
I do not intrude on the moment for long, beautiful as it is to see them reunited and safe. I withdraw, moving to another, and another, feeling that profound sense of power within me again.
Brie, comes the voice of my brother. Careful now, Brie.
I nod to reassure him, and draw back to my own eyes.
"They were drawn out to fight," Minerva whispers sombrely. "The people, the citizens. How many might have died?"
"Thousands," I say immediately, not knowing the exact number, but having a reasonable idea. "They are themselves again now. No such tragedy will ever mark this city again."
"Yes, Brie. Of course."
I turn to her, see her head bowing to me. The others do the same, the Heralds and the Chosen submitting. I don't know how to feel about it. There is a part of me that accepts it too easily, willingly, even gratefully, welcoming their deference and servility. These people have always had a master, always looked up to those they deemed divine. And looking at me, they see the natural successor to that role.
I have them all, I think, in the palm of my hand. The Heralds, the Chosen, the people down below. All I need to do, is take them, and the city shall be mine.
I blink at the thought, and shake it off. Once more, I hear the warning voice of my brother in my mind.
I know, brother, I know, I tell him. I...I don't know where that came from.
I sense him nodding, though he remains guarded. His presence slips away from me for a moment, as I take a breath, and continue moving towards the stairs.
Minerva follows, at my side, but a little behind. The rest hang back, not certain what to do. Waiting, perhaps, for my command.
I move to the top step, and take a seat, looking down upon the square. It is more calm down there now, the explosions, the gunfire, the great chorus of war receding. Yet in their place, a general hum sounds, a cloud of noises merging together. Crying, weeping, wailing. The song of agony of the body and mind, as the injured are gathered, and the grieving begins.
I sit there, listening to all that pain, and wonder if the only way for me to offset it, is to bring joy to this world instead. To awaken those who desire it, to free all their shackled souls.
An age of awakening, I think. Perhaps that is what it will be.
212
KIRA
I sit in a jeep, rushing towards the city, Marcus behind the wheel, Adryan in the back.
Away to the east, the sun is just starting to bloom, the skies clearing as the rains move off. It's hard going, driving here with so many hurdles to avoid. The dead lie all over, too many to count. I've never seen such carnage and chaos in my life.
Moments ago, back in the royal marquee, Herald Avon came around. He did so not through Secretary Burns's effort, but through some other, natural means. Drawing back from Avon's mind, Burns had turned to us, gathered there in the tent as the camp was made safe.
"It's done?" Dom had asked him.
He nodded, though his eyes were pinched. "It wasn't me," Burns said. "The Prime's controls. They just...disappeared."
The news had been welcome, and signalled only one possibility.
They were dead. Brie had won.
The celebrations, however, didn't last long, least not for me and the two men in the car with me now. As Dom poured the wine, and I saw General Decimus smile for the very first time, I heard a voice in my head, calling for me to come.
Kira, Zander had called out faintly, his words only just about reaching me. Kira, you must come now. Return to the hill. And bring Adryan.
And so here we are, on our way, Marcus putting himself forward as our driver, the rest staying back at the base. I sit in the front seat, Marcus twisting the jeep left and right, dodging the dead as he goes. He glances back to Adryan, sitting in shadow behind.
"She loves you, you know," he calls over the rattle. "She always has, Adryan."
I see Adryan's eyes lift up, a sharp silver.
"I'm sorry if I caused problems for you both," Marcus goes on. "That was never my intention. Brie is...she is a special woman. And you?" He manages a grin. "You are a lucky man."
As with Decimus, I see Adryan smile for the first time in a while. "I know, Marcus," he says. "And...thank you. Thank you for everything."
"Everything?" Marcus says. "I don't think there's much for me to take credit for."
"You went after her," Adryan says. "Back at the Olympian camp outside New Haven. You tried to save her."
"Yes, tried is the operative word," Marcus says. "If I'd succeeded, maybe none of this would have happened."
"It was always going to happen," I tell him.
He looks over to me. "You believe in fate now, my Lady?"
I shrug, looking forward, as the city walls approach. "I never did," I say. "But perhaps now I'm starting to be convinced."
We cross the bridge, weaving between the dead, slowing as we pass through the gate and down the short tunnel. The square beyond, with its colourful tiles, is dominated now by crimson, blood splashed everywhere, rivulets of red trickling. Survivors stand among the dead, so mixed in their reactions as the battle, the war, comes to an abrupt end.
Some celebrate heartily, the Neoromans especially buoyant. They do so as a custom, yet I see they try to remain respectful, keeping it among themselves as much as they can manage. Because among them are many others, beleaguered and confused. As we progress up the streets, helped in parts by soldiers who drag bodies away to let us pass, I begin to see that many citizens are among the dead, men and women of all ages cut down in their colourful robes, and wondrously varied attire.
Others have survived, standing around not quite knowing what has happened. Their hands grip weapons of various sorts. Their faces are ashen, bewildered by what they see, what they now know they have done.
They are not expressions of those who came willingly to defend their city. No, these are men and women programmed to do so, driven wild by their impulse to protect the Prime. It is a sobering thought, a tragic sight. It will be the last battlefield I look upon.
My fighting days are now done.
I dwell on that for just a moment, as we move through the dead and dying, the crowds still living. It's a feeling that I find hard to express, knowing I've fought my last battle, that my career as a warrior is over. Perhaps it will sink in in time. Perhaps now isn't the time to think on it. But, the truth is, the natural response I feel is more one of relief than anything else. It feels natural, now, to put the scimitars and th
rowing knives away, to tuck my armour into the closet, and let it gather dust.
I smile internally at the thought. It is time, I think, to move on.
We reach the square, pushing on through the crowds. A small Neoroman escort has now joined us, helping to clear the path for us to go. They do so carefully, whether with the living or the dead. Ahead, the hill comes into view, the great stairs leading up.
I notice a gathering nearby, those I have come to care for. Ares is there, and Perses too. They tower over Amber and Elian, and a younger girl with flaming hair like their own. The young girl is kneeling, weeping to the floor. Through the crowd I see why - Alberta lies dead.
I feel a stab of sadness at the sight, but not for me. For Amber, for the girl who can only be her sister. I consider asking Marcus to stop, to rush over and pay my condolences. I realise that my presence, my words, would give them little comfort. They need time right now, that is all. It is the only thing that heals such wounds.
As we approach the foot of the stairs, however, Ares and Perses step over, leaving the others to their grief. We climb out, and exchange fond embraces, the sort that go against protocol and decorum, but which I feel we've all earned.
"The camp is safe?" Ares asks, assuming it to be the case, given we've come.
I nod. "Dom and the General are fine. Secretary Burns and Max are too."
"And Herald Avon?" asks Perses.
"Alive," I say. "Marcus defeated him in single combat. His mind is freed, like all the others." I turn my gaze down for a sorrowful moment. "Many hundred of Fringers died defending the camp," I say. My eyes work away, towards Alberta, the woman who had led them. "What happened?" I ask gently.
It is Perses who answers, his voice funereal, blowing like a wintry wind. "She gave her fires to Elian," he explains, "in order to save Amber from Herald Gailen's wrath. She had no shield to defend herself amidst the madness. I believe it was a regular citizen who stabbed her through."
It is a horrible, wicked irony. They were the very people, along with those of the Fringe, who we were all here to save. To rid them of their shackles, bring them back into the light. For Alberta to have died at one of their hands is a doleful, tragic thing.
"And Herald Gailen?" I ask.
Perses shakes his head. Gailen served with him, and under him, for many years. He was a friend and brother, and yet there will be few to mourn him. Perses is one such man. I give him that respect, and show it in my face. "He fell," Perses rumbles. "Elian knocked him from the skies, and saved Amber in the doing. It was the last act of Alberta's life. I think she would be proud of that."
He turns the attention back on the old Fire-Blood, as though we must consider Gailen our enemy. I don't, not after all we've seen. He is a victim like any other.
I take Perses by the forearm and squeeze. "I am sorry about Gailen," I say. "I know he was dear to you."
Perses bows his great head. "Thank you, Kira," he rumbles. "I feel you will make a fine Empress."
"And you a fine ruler," I reply, turning to look up the stairs. "As soon as the keys are handed over."
I look to Adryan at that, and beckon him forward. "Zander called us here," I say to the others. "We must go and see her alone."
They offer no complaint, as we begin moving up the stairs. The clouds have almost fully dispersed now, the top of the hill visible without the mists and falling rains. I can see her up there, sitting on the top step, her eyes staring out at the people beyond. And all over, down in the square, the surviving Children of the Prime stand, looking up at her, as a goddess upon the hill.
She doesn't seem to notice us coming, her eyes staring blankly, caught in some deep trance. I wonder if she's still looking through the eyes of others, exploring her new powers, the people under her possession. She can slip into their minds, I know, with nothing but a thought. Take control of their bodies, look into their pasts, know their secrets and deepest desires.
It must be a tantalising thing.
We near the summit, and I see a woman standing nearby. She doesn't sit with Brie, but stands a little behind her and to her right. There is something about her face that is familiar to me, her eyes a rare, unearthly blue. I know immediately this is Minerva, Nestor's sister and mentor to Brie.
Now, it would seem, her servant.
She coughs lightly, as we approach, and Brie comes out of her daydream. She looks down at us, and stands straight to her feet. Her eyes stick on Adryan, and Adryan alone. She looks like she's about to rush off, cover the last few steps between us, jump into his arms and grip him tight. But up there, on show, with the city watching, she doesn't.
She settles, instead, and awaits us.
I grow circumspect now, guarded, as I see the gathering behind. There are many of them, Heralds and Chosen alike, standing in their robes and fineries. There is something about the scene that is unsettling. I can smell the subservience in the air, sense their fawning desire to submit to a new god.
Finally, we reach the top step, and I stand back to let Brie and Adryan reunite. They step towards one another, and fall into a strong embrace. I can see Brie's eyes over his shoulder, see her expression beginning to crack. I wish for it, to see that emotion, see the welling of tears, the trembling of her lips.
She manages to hold herself together, though I can hear the rate of her heart, the pace of her breathing. They are signals she cannot hide from me. Beneath the calm reunion, a great river of love and feeling rushes by.
Speak to her, Kira, I hear Zander say in my head. She must give it all up. He pauses. All of it. You understand what I'm saying. Both of you...make her see.
I nod and step forward, as Adryan releases her from his grip. He smiles and looks into her eyes. I see, now, that they are ringed blue. I hadn't noticed it before.
"Your eyes look beautiful, Brie," he says. "As do you."
She grins, her innocence briefly shining through, and pulls him into a kiss. His own facade doesn't threaten to crack. He has turned stoic again, and secure, becoming the man she fell for in the first place. He allows a smile, his face a fond affection, but otherwise remains phlegmatic.
I move in and hug her myself now, before drawing back, and turning my eyes up to the temple. "It's finished?" I ask her, though I already know. "They are dead?"
She nods, her eyes showing sorrow. "My grandfather, he did it," she whispers. "Artemis shot the Overseer. He...sacrificed himself."
"He's dead?"
Her chin tilts forward. "He is," she whispers.
I don't ask for more, press her on the details. I will discover them, I'm sure, in time, when she's ready for a full telling. Now, however, I merely give her a moment, and tell her I'm sorry. I follow the expected custom, before turning my eyes to the crowd below.
"It's time to release them, Brie," I say. "They are not your minds to see through. They are not yours to command."
She looks at me, her face hard to read. I think she knows. I think she understands. Yet there remains something inside her, something that yearns to cling on.
"So much pain," she says. "I can feel it. Feel it all."
"Then let go of it," Adryan tells her, drawing her eyes. "Let them mourn alone. You have done your part, Brie. It is time for you to rest."
He steps forward, unfolding his arm around her waist, and turning her to face the people below. I notice Minerva looking on, curious. I offer a glare, telling her to stay back, to not interfere right now. She nods, and dips her eyes, and begins to retreat, moving towards the others away across the plateau.
I watch, now, as Brie's eyes wander over the city, and Adryan stands tall and strong by her side. He has no physical powers, but that is never what Brie required. From the start, he was a rock for her, battling the demons in her head, protecting her, supporting her, as she did what needed to be done.
The last year, since the end of the civil war in New Haven, has tested that relationship. Yet I see it now, see that they will come through the other side, even stronger than before. Adryan has
stepped up, and become what she needs once more. And with him by her side, I know she will give it up.
Slowly, I watch as her eyes close, as she takes a long, deep breath, and blows it out to the wind. Her eyes open back up, striking hazel and ethereal blue. She nods, and smiles, as her body begins to relax.
"It is done," she says. "They are mine...no more."
A quiet fills my head, a knowledge that it's not quite over. Brie looks at me, and her eyebrows fall. My chin dips into a nod. She knows.
"There's one more," I whisper to her. I step forward and take her hand. "It's time to let him go, Scout."
She draws back and shakes her head. "No," she whispers. "No, I can't..."
I fix my eyes on hers, knowing it's the only way. Knowing it is time. I can only imagine how lonely Zander's existence must be. If there is a spectral realm, between life and death, then perhaps there is something more beyond. He deserves to rest now, to pass the curtain and drift away. I came here trying to save Brie, but know that Zander needs saving too.
And now, it is time. I look her in the eye.
"It's time for you to say goodbye."
213
BRIE
I look at Kira, my heart a desolate place. A sickness fills my stomach, a horrible churning deep within. Already, I can feel the loss, the impending pit of grief. I lost Zander once before.
Now she's asking me to lose him again.
Lose him...forever.
"His purpose is done, Brie," she whispers to me, as we stand atop the hill, the city falling silent below. "You must give him up, and let him rest. It is the only way."
"The only way?" I shake my head, tears blinding me. "The only way for what?"
"To become you again," she says. "To lose these powers, and revert to what you were. You are too powerful now, Scout. It will only lead you astray in the end."
I shake my head and turn my eyes away. I look upon the masses below, my link into their minds now severed. But I can still awaken those who want it, can't I? I can still walk these lands and do good...