by T. C. Edge
He’s unable to answer.
“What drugs is he on?” she asks, turning back to Cromwell.
“Just sedatives, primarily,” he answers. “Now, feel free to take him with you or not. If you choose no, I will at least give you the guarantee that he won’t be harmed under my care. You see, I have nothing to hide.”
Lady Orlando thinks for a few moments. Then, she glances at me, before giving a little nod.
“We will take him. Being under your care is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. And Leyton Burns is the opposite of that.”
She turns to Freya, who stiffens her posture as they link eyes.
“Freya, take Leyton outside and make sure he’s transferred straight to our medics back in Inner Haven.”
“Right away, my Lady,” she booms, before marching towards Burns and reaching a long arm around his body.
Towering above Woolf, she glares at the woman with a look that would quell many a man, before heaving Burns out of the door and into the steadily falling rain.
“Zander, see what you can find in his head when he comes around,” says Lady Orlando. “We don’t want any nasty surprises coming our way.”
My brother nods, but stays put. It seems as though the meeting is finally about to end.
Our leader turns her eyes back to her old husband. She looks at him for a good long while before speaking once more.
“We will consider our position,” she says. “In the meantime, you can show us further faith by doing one thing.”
“And what is that, Cornelia?”
“Your Stalkers at the mines will be ordered to escort our people back to the city. They will watch for any and all threats on the road and make sure that not a single one of our men, women, and children, are harmed. They will deposit our people at the northern gate, where we will see to their transfer to Inner Haven. Then, they will return to the rest of your forces at the REEF. Do that, and you will have earned a little of our trust. Do it not, and further pleas may fall on deaf ears.”
She stares at the man again, playing hardball. I feel my pulse hammering as I watch proceedings. It’s a smart move, killing a couple of birds with one stone: remove the threat to our people from the equation, and also get them safely back into our arms.
Genius.
Cromwell considers the proposal. Yet, I get the sense he expected this and has already formed an answer. Nevertheless, he draws it out as if trying to convince us he’s really giving a lot up.
He isn’t. I suspect this was just a smart ploy all along to engender trust.
“OK, Cornelia,” he says eventually. “You have a deal. My men will bring your people home. I would, if I were you, contact them first. I understand my Stalkers can appear quite frightening to normal folk.”
“We’ll tell them to expect your men at dawn. Once we have them back in our arms, we will give further consideration to what you’ve said.”
The two old spouses nod at each other. The meeting finally concludes.
And with it, a ceasefire begins.
14
The city begins to take on a different shape as we work back through its western streets. Leaving a garrison at the perimeter gate, the rest of our forces return to Inner Haven with a degree of tension seemingly lifted from the entire collective.
It takes no time at all for word to spread that a ceasefire, while temporarily applied during the afternoon to facilitate our meeting, will now be indefinitely prolonged until further arrangements are reached.
Our soldiers are given the orders first, and then a process of word of mouth takes place. By the time the convoy re-enters Inner Haven, passing through the heavily guarded inner gate, I can already see the altered expressions on people’s faces.
Fear has morphed into relief. Crinkled brows have begun to ease up. Foreheads are no longer wrinkled and bunched but smooth and flat. Eyes that once held an unyielding anxiety now open a little wider in hope that things might just be OK and that we have, in fact, been declared victorious.
Yet, it’s a huge leap of faith to assume that we are now safe. Yes, the coming days may be calm and tranquil when compared to those that went before, but those to follow soon after my well charge back with a violence-fuelled vengeance.
If what Cromwell said is true, then this will merely be a lull before we’re forced to face off against an entirely new foe. If he’s lying, and unfortunately I don’t think he is, then our ceasefire may not last long, and we may once more find ourselves at odds with the man himself.
But, it remains a relief. That I can’t deny. Whether it lasts only a day or week or month doesn’t matter. The respite is welcome, and will give us time to further consolidate our position.
When we reach the City Guard HQ, our main forces disband, returning to their tasks and further spreading the word of the current state of affairs. For those of us at the core of negotiations, however, the discussion isn’t done, and more decisions need to be made.
So, we return to another office – Lady Orlando’s this time – and take some time to go over what we’ve heard once more. We find Adryan there, at his new station, and extremely eager to hear what happened.
The basics have already reached his ears; that a ceasefire is in effect. However, what he doesn’t know, and what most people don’t know yet, is the true core of what Cromwell revealed.
At this time, Lady Orlando has ordered for us to keep such details to ourselves. If the people heard that a new, foreign force might be gathering, the burgeoning calm will quickly give way. I’m sure she’d rather not deal with a panic.
Adryan, however, is quickly filled in. He seems strangely unsurprised by it all.
“I’ve met Rhoth,” he says. “It makes perfect sense that there are other people out there. And it makes sense that they’d see an opportunity right now to attack. When two people are engaged in conflict, that’s the best time to step in and stab them both in the back.”
“Unfortunately, I agree,” says Lady Orlando, choosing this time to wander around the room rather than return to her perch.
She does, however, have a glass of whiskey in hand. Mrs Carmichael used to call it ‘thinking juice’ on occasion. It appears my grandmother agrees with that sentiment.
“I can’t believe we’re buying this crap,” barks Beckett, still unwilling to yield. “Lady Orlando, look at what the man’s done. Look at what he did to you all those years ago. How can you trust him?!”
“I don’t trust him,” she retorts. “This may not be a matter of trust at all, but one of mere fact. However, you’re right in a manner of speaking; I will not just believe everything Artemis says. I will need to gather my own intel before I consider treating with him again.”
She stops in position and swings her eyes towards Zander.
“My boy, I need you to head back to the church,” she says. “You have good relations with Rhoth, and I’m keen to discover what he knows.”
“I could get him on the communicator now, if you wish?” suggests Adryan.
“No, this requires a face to face meeting. Zander may be required to look into his thoughts and memories if needs be, assuming he allows such a thing. I understand he has some natural blocks to your mental incursions?”
“Yeah, some of the wildmen are like that. The fog can play havoc with our abilities,” says Zander. “I thought you wanted me to look into Commander Burns’ mind, though?”
“I do. It’s getting late, so stay here tonight, and conduct your checks on Leyton. Tomorrow morning, head out. There will be no need to sneak any longer with the ceasefire in effect, so you won’t be hindered.”
Zander nods, taking aboard the order. Then he gestures towards me.
“I’d like Brie to come too,” he says. “She has an affinity with Rhoth, and a way of getting the truth out of people. She also looked into a young tribesman’s mind before, a man called West.”
“West?” says Lady Orlando.
Eyes turn to me, seeking an explanation.
; “Um, yeah, he’s not from these parts. Was found by Rhoth as a kid. I was curious, so looked into his head, and saw his village being attacked when he was a young boy, somewhere hot and arid. Nothing like around here. Anyway, there were soldiers in old armour, and they had some Enhanced with them…”
“Enhanced?” says Beckett. “What kind?”
“I only saw a couple. There was a Dasher, I think. And, one of these Elementals that Rhoth mentioned the other day. He manipulated the fire, drew it to his hands from a burning shack and threw it into another. It was the first time I’d seen someone like that. Before the people came and took Kira.”
“Hmmmm,” murmurs Beckett. “You didn’t mention this before. They could be related.”
I see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He’s probably thinking Cromwell’s not being quite as deceitful as he assumed.
“Could be. But the soldiers who took Kira didn’t seem the same. Their armour was plush and shiny, not old. And they had mostly dark hair, olive skin. The ones who attacked West’s village were more like barbarians.”
“Well, related or not, this requires further investigation,” says Lady Orlando. “You say West was with Rhoth’s party that escorted the people to the mines?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Then he should still be with him at the church. Good. See what else you can find out. Leave tomorrow morning, and report back as soon as you can. But for now, both of you go and see Leyton. See what you can find out from him.”
We both begin to move towards the door. I spare a look at Adryan, and lift a small smile. His face lights in a similar fashion, and a blast of warmth spreads through me as I mouth: “I’ll see you later.”
As we leave the room, however, our grandmother turns us around.
“Oh, and to be safe,” she says, “make sure Leyton has guards on him. As Beckett rightly says, nothing Artemis does can be trusted. And whatever happens, we have to all keep a very close eye on what he’s up to.”
15
The City Guard HQ has its own infirmary, covering half a floor down on one of the few subterranean levels of the building.
One level down from the main atrium, and one level up from the garage where the force’s vehicles are situated, a small hospital operates for the purpose of tending to any City Guard hurt in the field. Or, should they develop any minor ailment, it’s here that they’ll come.
As we reach the level, and wander down the windowless, slate grey corridor with its sickly, bright yellow lighting, I wonder why I wasn’t brought here a few days ago after being battered by that brick. That fight with those weird Elementals was fairly brutal, and I’d taken a solid hit to the base of my skull that still gives me some discomfort.
Zander, too, is still showing signs of the fight. The left side of his face remains bruised, his eye blackened around its base, and his cheek is still a little swollen. It might have been a lot worse had they wished it. I’m still baffled by just why they didn’t, and why they took Kira and no one else.
The question of why I didn’t awake here, however, is answered as we go. It’s clear that the place is already oversubscribed, each room we pass occupied by at least a soldier or two suffering from far more serious ailments than us.
Yet, despite that, Commander Burns has been afforded his own space. We find him lying unconscious in a blank white room on a featureless medical bed, being watched over by a single nurse who has the look of a Savant.
“How’s he doing?” asks Zander as we step in.
The woman works up what she probably thinks is a comforting smile. Given her assigned profession, perhaps that’s something she’s been required to develop.
“He’s just fine,” she says. “He should come around soon. Or, I could give him a shot to wake him up, if you wish?”
“No, no, that’s alright. There’s no rush at all,” says Zander. “Where’s Freya?”
“Freya?”
“Tall lady, white hair, big scar on her face…”
“Oh. She left Commander Burns in my care. He’s well supervised, don’t worry.”
Not as well as we’d like. Leaving me in the room, Zander quickly heads back up to the atrium to fetch a couple of guards to stand on duty outside the door. Their remit is simple: no one is to go in or out unless by strict approval from the top.
It’s probably an overreaction, but we can’t be too careful. Commander Burns, as we well know, is a very gifted Mind-Manipulator himself, and should someone like him be under secret, hidden orders, then it could be rather dangerous.
There’s a single chair in the room, set up against a small table to one side. Zander lets me take it, while he remains standing, leaning against the wall to take some of the load off.
“You think Cromwell’s done something to him?” I ask, looking at the sleeping form of Burns.
Zander shrugs.
“Hard to say with a man like him. I dunno, I guess when you actually meet with someone you’ve hated for so long, it’s never how you expect.”
“How do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
“Ah, just, you know, you have a picture in your mind. This horrible, evil person. This man who’d kill his own mother to get what he wants…”
I huff internally at the comparison. He’s not too far off the mark.
He draws in a breath.
“But, I guess it’s hard to see it all, right? It’s not like he’s a regular man, killing for fun. He genuinely lacks empathy. It’s built in biologically. He just sees killing a load of people as a necessary evil, I suppose. A bit like with us and the High Tower.”
I balk a little at his words. Partly because I hate the thought. And partly because I do, at least in part, know what he’s talking about.
And I hate that too.
Still, I choose to play devil’s advocate.
“So, you agree with him then?” I ask flatly.
“No, of course I don’t,” he says, perhaps too defensively. “I mean, I’d have killed him right there if I could. I’m just saying that you have this picture of this crazy, evil guy, and then he’s just an old man in a stupid white suit, speaking some sense.”
“Sense,” I puff. “Like what?”
“Well, that we’re vulnerable right now. We can’t deny that. If a proper army with people like those soldiers who took Kira came along right now, what the hell would we do? We’ve got some good fighters, yeah, but most of us aren’t that special. Put us all out in the open against Cromwell’s men, and they’d probably win, even with fewer numbers. We have these walls now. We have this city. That’s what’s protecting us. But our men? Our numbers? If a proper army came along, I don’t know if we’d stand against it.”
“And us and Cromwell?” I query.
“Well, we’d stand a better chance, put it that way.”
“Sure, but against what, Zander? We don’t really know what the hell we’re facing here. We don’t know for sure if there’s anything coming our way.”
“No, not yet. But you know what, if the Director’s right, we might be best putting our differences aside for a little while to deal with the problem.”
“Right, and let him back in the door,” I grumble.
“Needs must, Brie. Needs must.”
I hate even thinking about the idea. The concept of working alongside someone I so detest, someone the Nameless have been fighting against for so long, leaves a burning, bitter taste in the back of my mouth and a churning in the pit of my stomach.
“You don’t agree,” says Zander, watching the mechanisms in my mind and the resulting expressions on my face. “What else do you suggest?”
I don’t really have an answer. Truth be told, my twin probably doesn’t mind the idea of prolonging this war, of continuing the fight. It’s how he defines himself after all.
“I don’t know, Zander,” I say. “I agree with what Lady O said. Until we know what we’re dealing with, I guess there’s nothing to say. But maybe Beckett had it right. Who’s to say we team up with Cromwell again
st this so-called threat? Maybe we let them destroy him out there at the REEF instead, and batten down the hatches in the city?”
He considers the option. He seems to be taking it seriously.
“That’s a possibility,” he admits. “But, if that did happen, and an army turned up that could wipe out all of Cromwell’s soldiers, then I’m fairly sure they could do the same to us. And anyway, almost all his Con-Cops are still in the city, along with his loyal City Guards. So, we’d have to deal with them too.”
“Pffft, Con-Cops are canon-fodder and you know it.”
“For me or you, maybe. But not for most of us. It’s funny how you seem so happy for people to die all of a sudden. Our priority right now is to save lives, Brie. We’ve made some horrible decisions already to ensure that happens. Now, we may have to make some more…”
Damn, that shut me up. I have nothing really to say, no little retort. And, thankfully, just at that moment, I don’t need one.
Because Burns is stirring.
16
The shuffle of movement on the bed is quickly picked up by both of our eyes.
A grunt sounds too as the middle-aged Savant begins to creak open his eyes and slowly survey the room.
I step immediately forward, and rest my hand lightly on his shoulder.
“Commander Burns, how are you feeling?”
He opens and closes his mouth, suggesting it’s dry. The croak of his voice suggests the very same thing.
“I’m erm, OK,” he says. “A little groggy, but fine. Where am I?”
“In the City Guard HQ infirmary,” I say.
“Ah, yes, of course.” He squints through narrow eyes at my brother. “Who is that? Who else is here?”
“It’s Zander, Commander Burns.” My twin steps forward. “I’m just here to ask a few questions and have a check inside your head. Is that OK?”
Zander’s tone is respectful. Burns nods.
“We’d like to know what happened at the High Tower, before it went down,” he says, putting on his ‘interviewer’ hat. “Would you tell us what happened?”