by T. C. Edge
"No. No, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Didn't I? Almost twenty of my men died, Amber. I did plenty wrong."
"But we were heavily outnumbered. And you couldn't have known they'd have that Wind-Elemental of that strength with them."
"With further diligence I just may have done. But I will not fall into self-rebuke. I will never forget the soldiers we lost, and will wear them in my heart always, but to let such losses consume me would make me far less effective as a leader. To lose soldiers is a terrible part of the job. But it is a part of it nonetheless." He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. "You will lose men, and you will question yourself when you do. When that time comes, do not lose your way."
A weight builds on my shoulders, one that I might just carry my entire life from here. I react not by letting my shoulders sag or chin drop, but by lifting my head up high, and standing to my full height.
Perses smiles warmly at the sight, my teacher and guide, my shining light out there in the darkness of the world. I look into his rugged, scarred face and see not just a mentor, but a friend. I see a man I can trust and rely on, one who will not lead me astray.
"Now," he says. "Let us report on what we have seen and discovered," He turns me towards Black Thunder, and we begin wandering gently over. "I must say, for your first outing as a young Herald of War, you have performed with great assurance and wisdom. You listen well, and do as you are told, yet trust your instincts too. You have been born for this, Amber. And perhaps you have come at just the right time, as the Prime foretold you would."
We reach Black Thunder and step aboard.
And through the city we go, heading for the Sacred Stairs.
17
I wonder, as I pace from step to step, if I will ever get used to this sensation. The cool embrace of the low slung clouds. The wondrous sight of the city below. The strange, magical feeling as I step into the mist and disappear from sight, appearing upon the summit of the great Hill of Olympus, as if stepping into a whole new world.
One of gods and goddesses, a true heaven here on earth.
With Perses beside me, both of us drenched in our combat armour of black and, in my case, a morbidly fitting blood-red, we reach the top of the hill and turn our eyes across the plateau ahead. There, within the boundary of the many grand temples and buildings that spread across the perimeter, I see a greeting party of figures awaiting us.
There are six of them, three of them dressed similarly to us; the other Heralds of War, ready to hear from their leader, none as mighty or physically imposing as Perses, but all extremely powerful and commanding in their own distinct ways.
Another of the waiting assembly is, however, simply gigantic. He is of astounding physical form, a good half foot taller than even Krun, more muscled and broad, a true planet of a man. Dressed in dark brown robes that open at the chest and cut short at the arms, revealing his remarkably large and yet defined muscularity, he is the Chosen Titan, the strongest and largest of all his kind.
The fifth is the only woman in attendance, and though the smallest of them all, she holds an aura that seems to shine. With pale skin so clear it appears almost translucent, and hair of white, she stares across at us with bright green robes and eyes of the same. I recognise her, as I do the others, from my brief showing up here in the past. Her name I don't yet know, but her powers and place I do. The Chosen Phaser. The fastest of all the Children.
The final face is one I know well enough, one I've gone from hating to liking to resenting to, really, forgetting over the last few days. Seeing him again, I feel some cocktail of all of that rise up once more, and wonder just how he's feeling seeing me step up here by Perses's side.
He may have been given the rank of Chosen, but I might just have been afforded something grander. He can stay up here and watch the world pass by from above. I see my place as out there now, doing the Prime's will, becoming the hero that Lilly so wishes me to be.
The thought passes by as our two little groups meet, entering into a courtyard surrounded by flowers and lovely plants, beautiful carvings and tinkling fountains. It seems a fitting place for grand discussions, up here near the centre of the plateau, the Temple of the Prime, and its divine occupants, looming in the distance.
As we step together, a breeze begins to billow and whistle about us, fluttering the robes of those who have them. In the distance, I see a few other figures going about whatever business they have. Other Chosen, not so interested, perhaps, in the affairs of war and conflict beyond the city walls.
Is that what this is? Are these those who wish to be included in any plans that might be made?
I look at Elian again and see a slight curve of envy in his eyes. A jealousy, perhaps, that I've been a part of something important. A resentment for the title I've been given, one that matches and even rivals his own.
I manage to smile at him, even so, and find that he smiles back, though only in forced fashion. No one speaks, however, until Perses does. Etiquette, I suppose, calls for him to be the first to do so.
"Thank you for gathering here," he says, stopping before the others. We drift around into a small circle, and I somehow find myself right next to the Chosen Titan, who blocks out the sun and wind alike. "I see that you got my message, Herald Kovas, judging by the activity below. You are quick to work as always, my friend."
Herald Kovas, the second most senior and powerful of the Heralds of War, nods with great respect to his superior. Though nowhere near the size of Perses, he remains a physically imposing man of middle years, his head bald like all the Heralds, a thick scar cut across his neck that speaks of a close run-in with death some time ago. With almost no eyebrows to speak of, he looks quite unusual, with a large nose and thin lips, a slightly lopsided jaw that looks like it's been broken one too many times. And when he speaks, I see further evidence of that, several of his teeth absent, the rest not in the best working order.
He is, it's safe to say, a rather ugly man, rare to see around here. Unlike Perses, he's rugged in the wrong way.
"It is my finest attribute," Herald Kovas says, his voice as rough as his appearance and words suggesting he's a rather gifted Phaser. It is, presumably, one of several gifts under his possession. "You'll have seen three companies preparing to leave the city. They will march to known danger spots on the border of the Fringe. Updates can be sent if we need them to change course."
"Good. Thank you, Master Herald." Peres regards the group, one by one, eyes moving up and down as he goes from the Titan, to the Phaser, to Elian and beyond. "All of you will have heard of what happened to us out there beyond the Fringe. It is with great sadness and regret that we lost nineteen good souls. May they journey to the Eternal Halls safely."
All within the group bow their heads in respect and observe a good half minute of silence.
When completed, Perses speaks again. "Now, we all know of what happened many months ago with Herald Nestor, and we know that there has been great upheaval to the south." I see a series of heads bob, eyes narrowing. "You may also have heard from our runners that the group of raiders we fought out there were the remnants of the Cure. It seems that some three hundred of them, perhaps bolstered by fresh recruits as they journeyed northwest, managed to escape the fighting with Haven. We have taken four of their number captive, and will be able to learn a great deal about precisely what happened down there. That will give us a firm idea of the state Haven is now in."
He glances at me, taking a breath, before continuing. "Now, there was a fifth captive too," he says. "One not associated with the Cure. It does seem, however, that he was present during the very incident where Herald Nestor lost his life..."
I see several pairs of eyes lift at that in surprise. Before anyone can interrupt, Perses raises a hand.
"This man was captured by Nestor during one of his raids, and taken for awakening. We all know about Nestor's methods. It will come as no surprise to you to learn that he was the only one who survived."
"Wh
at is he now?" comes a voice, breaking through. It comes from another of the Heralds of War, a slim man of narrow build who doesn't look much like either Perses of Kovas. Not so gruff or scarred. Bald, yes, but younger, and with a cleaner, more classically handsome visage. Yet his eyes are as keen as anything, piercing and unblinking. I suspect he's a highly gifted Farsight, though is probably so much more.
"He is a man of great strength and anger, Herald Avon. We know Nestor only awakened those of great power. Marius proved that to me when we sparred against one another. His strength grows with his rage, and he is driven forward by impressive speed as well."
"He should be assimilated, then," suggests the white-haired Phaser, Chosen among her kind. My eyes turn to hers, and find a woman of calm demeanour looking on. "If we have captured this man, then why not use him. I'm sure the Overseer can see to it."
"Perhaps," says Perses, "but he has suffered greatly, Lady Dianna. Such men are notoriously difficult to convert."
"He is a Son of the Prime now, though," comes Elian's haughty voice. "If he wishes to live among us, is that not his right?"
"He won't want to live among us," I say. "Nestor killed his wife, sister, and entire village. He wants to kill us, not join us."
"But that may be a moot point anyway," says Kovas. He turns to Perses directly. "Did he kill any of your men during the battle?"
Perses shakes his head. "I don't believe he did. Not so far as my men's testimony has gone. It was...frenetic, however. Very hard to know for sure."
"Then it isn't even worthy of debate," says Kovas. "If he killed one of our men, awakened or not, he is to be executed for his crimes, not asked to join our ranks."
"Is that fair?" I find myself asking. "You can't just execute him because he might have killed our men."
"And what of the Devotees who were slaughtered, young Herald?" Kovas asks. "They were your people once, if you'll remember. Do you not want to see him pay for their despicable murder?"
"He didn't murder anyone," I say, shaking my head. "He came to get revenge on us, not kill innocent people. He doesn't seem like a bad man."
Kovas and Avon, Heralds of War, laugh derisively at that. The final, as yet silent Herald, merely looks on quietly, his eyes soft, though aura strong, his frame athletic and cleanly shaven jaw locked tight.
I feel a bubbling of annoyance coming on at the way I'm being looked at by the others, however. Oh, they probably see me as an outsider still, a guest up here at the top of the world. Well they can stick that perception where the sun doesn't shine. I have no plans to go anywhere.
"I was there," I say forcefully, though still maintaining my calm. "You were not. So don't laugh at what I'm telling you."
The mens' laughter stops immediately with that, trailing off like a river drying out into nothing but a muddy ditch. I note a smile burgeoning on Perses's face. Elian, too, seems to be finding it hard to suppress his own.
"I told you all she was a fighter," Perses says, looking at me proudly. "Master Elian knows that full well already, and you'll all see it for yourselves in time. Herald Amber, though very young, displayed staggering acuity and fortitude during the fight. If either of you had seen her, Kovas and Avon, you'd be taking her more seriously right now." He sets them with a withering stare, hammering his point home with those endless eyes of his.
"Now, let us move on from this," he goes on, voice lightening up. "Marius's ascension to Son of the Prime is not of concern right now. What is, however, is what the Overseer will discover for us. We already know that only two warriors from Haven managed to destroy Nestor and his entire troop. That is no mean feat, even for us assembled here. We must discover more about our enemy. And yes, they are our enemy. I'm afraid recent circumstances have contrived to make that so, whether we like it or not."
The group fall silent, the wind falling. Beside me, the great Titan dips his head into a nod, moving out of the path of the sun, which falls down upon me in a warming glow. And then, from the very same giant, a wind seems to blow. Really, it's only his voice, breathing out some booming words.
"If it's war, then we all need to fight," he says, his voice as heavy as a mountain, and yet unexpectedly soft at the same time. It's as if he's learned to suppress his full voice for fear of bursting eardrums, leading to this constant whisper, rumbling like the sound of a distant, incoming storm. He sways his head, left to right. "All of us," he says.
"That's why we're here, Atlas," says Dianna, her own voice smooth and deeply husky. "We are first to answer the call for war. The others will follow if they must."
"I never doubted either of your presence here," Perses says. Then he looks over at Elian. "I'm more surprised by yours, Master Elian. Surprised, but impressed."
"I want to emulate my father, Herald Perses," Elian says, clearing his throat. "He was always first to ride out to fight, to use his gifts for the good of this city. We Fire-Bloods are particularly potent, and I would never sit back and do nothing when I might lend a fiery hand."
I can't help but smile as he speaks, bringing out that natural charm of his. I see others doing the same, Elian clearly a popular edition to the plateau, well liked by his fellow favoured Children. Yet Perses doesn't react the same. He keeps his eyes narrow, nodding, gaze drifting off in pensive thought.
"Your father was always brave," Herald Kovas says, laying a hand to Elian's shoulder and gripping tight. "It seems you've inherited more than his wondrous power, Elian."
"Thank you, Master Herald," Elian says softly. "That means a great deal to me, coming from you."
His eyes flick, ever so briefly, to Perses as he speaks. I sense that, really, it's the greatest of the Heralds of War whose approval and recognition he desires.
"Well, we are very happy to have you here, Elian," Perses says stiffly. "You are quite correct in saying that gifted Fire-Bloods are especially potent in battle and war. Your father proved it often, and Amber proved it two nights back. We came against a Wind-Elemental of great power, and she overcame him all on her own. I'm sure you will operate well together, when the time comes. Herald and Chosen side by side."
I look to Elian, and he looks right back. For a moment the rest of the gathering seem to fade away, as I try to figure him out, read that expression of his. He never seemed a particularly complicated young man. In fact, he was one of the few who actually took me for who I was, and didn't look down at me like the other contestants during the trials. Only when he was forced to lend a hand, to help me understand and develop my powers, did our fledgling bond begin to break down.
I can understand why, of course. He was a young man pursuing a dream, a position he saw as his birthright. We didn't know back then, of course, that it was my birthright too. That my grandmother was Chosen Fire-Blood before his father assumed the mantle. The blood of the Chosen is in both of our bloods, and it seems like fate that we have both ascended to this great summit. I may be a Herald, and not a Chosen, but in the end, that distinction doesn't matter. We are both of the highest rank, and both now may be drawn out to fight.
Side by side. Together. We should embrace it and not spare any energy on mindless bickering.
The thought brings a resolute look to my face as I stare across at Elian. And as he looks back, I see his expression become the same. He nods a single time at me, putting old enmities aside, turning forward to the future. Truly, there is no looking back now.
Perses looks about the group, and then his eyes work up towards the Temple of the Prime, glistening under the dying sun, radiant and wonderful. Others follow his gaze, and there, in the entrance, I note the presence of the Prime, standing side by side, white robes shining beautifully within the shadows of the great arched doorway and mighty pillars beyond.
"They await you, Perses," Kovas says. "They desire a personal account of what happened."
"As expected," says Perses. "And I desire their council and wisdom." He turns to the group again, the sun working across the skies now, preparing to descend and turn the world to twilight.
"I will call upon you all again soon," he says. "Our great Mother and Father will provide the guidance we all need." He turns to the Heralds. "I wish for each of you to prepare your men for any eventuality. Liaise with our armourers and make sure we're well stocked with both weapons and combat armour."
"You truly are expecting a war, Perses?" asks Kovas. "Is this instinct or something more?"
"My instincts tend to serve me well enough, Herald Kovas," Perses says. "I trust them to not lead me astray. But I don't yet know what path we shall take. I only wish to make sure all possibilities are considered, all plans drawn up." He looks again to the great, shining temple of sparkling white. "They will show us the way."
With that, the meeting ends, the Heralds and Chosen moving off. I stand for a moment, not quite knowing what to do, before I hear a voice behind me.
"You staying or going?" I turn to look upon the face of Elian, easy smile on his lips. "Well? You're a Herald now, right? You've got a place of your own right here."
I turn my eyes to the many grand buildings around the top of the hill, each with staggering, startling views. Many will be public, used for bathing, leisure, training, and other such things. Others, however, are accommodations, grand homes lived in by the residents up here. Palaces and temples to rival all others in luxury and opulence, fitted with gardens and grounds, private courtyards and pools.
I look around them, wondering which might be mine, still finding myself overwhelmed by the circumstances of my new life.
"I live over there now," Elian goes on, filling the silence of my spellbound state. He points towards a grand mansion towards the far western edge of the plateau, fittingly painted red in places like the Temple of Fire down below. "It was my father's home, and your grandmother's before him. I'd invite you to live with me if you didn't have your own place already."