by T. C. Edge
"Long story," I say, "and not one for now. Suffice it so say, my days as a warrior might well be numbered. So, I'm more than happy to do as much as I can here while I'm able."
"Right," he nods. "The responsibility of being an Empress. I suppose they don't want you being a fighter as well?"
"No, and I don't really blame them. But, yeah, we've got a few things to work out. But not now. Now, we have this mess to deal with." I turn once again to look at the others. Their eyes turn up to me, wondering what's taking so long. I look again to Adryan. "Love has to be put on hold at times like this, Adryan," I tell him. "Keep it locked away in your heart. If it gets out, it makes you doubt things. That's how you make stupid decisions."
"And that's how you deal with it?" he asks me. "When you have to leave Emperor Domitian, and go out to fight."
"It's how he deals with it," I say, correcting him. "He's the one who has to worry. When I'm out there, I've got other things on my mind. You have to realise, it's the same with Brie. I know how much she loves you. It's just...different for her out there, and you back here. You'll learn to work through all that, in time."
"I...hope so," he says, his eyes threatening to fall once more. He doesn't let them. Chin high, he nods, and fixes his expression, firming with the sort of stoicism times like this require.
"Good," I say. "Now, we both have work to do. Let's keep our minds on that, OK?"
I draw him into a quick hug to tie it all together, cementing the solidarity we share, before rushing off to join the others. I find them anxious to head off, finalising their conversation.
"Head here," says, Hendricks, pointing to a map at the comms station. It's of the eastern edge of where the enemy encampment is, as far as I can discern. "The sentry positions are several hundred metres from the enemy energy shield. Search the area. If you're going to find survivors, they'll probably be here."
"No word, then?" I ask, joining them. "Nothing about Brie or Colonel Hatcher?"
"No. Nothing of Captain Marcus either," says Ares. "We understand they were last seen in this area, though we're not certain of exactly where. It's a good place to start. We'll consider things further when we get there."
"Well, good luck to you all," says Hendricks. "I need to go and debrief the others."
He moves off at that, leaving only myself, Ares, and Max alone with the nervous looking technician.
"Should I, er...announce your arrival at the eastern gate?" the young man asks, voice stammering a little.
"Yes," booms Ares. "Tell them we'll be moving through both the inner and outer eastern gates. We won't take long to get there." He looks to me and Max. "Ready? We move at speed. No let up. And follow my orders. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," says Max, bowing to his superior.
"Your word on the battlefield is law, Ares," I say. "I'd never dream of questioning it."
"That means a great deal, coming from you, Lady Kira. I apologise if I am being abrupt. I would never be such in other circumstances."
"Please," I smile. "No apologies. Like I say, this is your domain above us all."
With those words we turn, together, and head back out onto the plains.
3
Kira
The dead swarm around us, our own men and theirs spread far and wide across the plains. Hundreds of ours. A thousand, perhaps, of theirs. Little heaps and mounds that now lie eternally still, their bodies pale as their blood cools and leaks from their wounds, their eyes lifeless and staring.
It's not a sight that distresses us unduly, not something that turns our stomachs as it would other, less seasoned soldiers. No, we have each seen our fair share of death. There are few in this world, I imagine, who have seen much more.
"They shouldn't lie out here like this," I say as we go, moving quietly along the eastern plains, the city walls far in the distance now. Above us, the sun shines down bright and warm, heralding the new day. It will quickly cause the bodies to start to rot and smell. These lands, in time, will become an open graveyard if left as they are.
"We could arrange a parlay," suggests Max. "A ceasefire so we can collect our dead."
Ares nods gravely. "Tensions, I fear, may be too high at this time," he says. "Herald Kovas isn't a man to be reasoned with. He will be stewing behind his walls now. An attempt to make contact might only incite a negative, and possibly violent, response."
Across the fields, in the far distance, the shapes of other men catches my eyes. They move, as we are, in a small unit, searching through the dead, looking for specific individuals as yet unaccounted for. The two Fire Elementals, Amber and Elian, are probably high on their priority list.
"Should we engage?" I question, looking over at them. The others follow the direction of my eyes.
"No," Ares says, after a moment to ponder it. "We have little time to spare on petty conflicts now. The eastern perimeter of their camp isn't far away. Let's move."
We continue on at pace, activating our Dasher speed as we go, though keeping a ready eye out for enemy troop movement at all times. I dial up my senses, as I do whenever in a situation of potential peril, and focus on the sounds and smells around me. Out here, with the lands being primarily open, my use of the sight isn't so necessary. It isn't something that the others can do, and remains, as far as I've so far discovered, a combined power unique to me alone.
We pass through further concentrations of the dead, stopping to check over those we find as we progress. Most are easy to determine by their garb, our losses primarily the City Guards, in their specific uniforms and armour, and the Nameless, dressed in a less formalised manner, preferring to use their more rugged and individual dress.
The few Stalkers and Neoroman soldiers we come across are also easy to identify, given their unique attire. It is those who we check more thoroughly, the latter with a particular trepidation, afraid we might find Captain Marcus - a well liked man among the Neoroman forces - among them. We check the Stalkers too, of course, searching for Colonel Hatcher, who dresses similarly to the black-armoured Stalkers under his charge.
Yet as Ares and Max zip about, paying particular attention to the fallen men in silver and red, I find my eyes working around, searching for a specific target. One that, should I see her, will immediately jump out to my eyes, so close as we've become over this last year.
It's an unpleasant experience, ever concerned I'll see her beautiful face staring up at me from the dirt, those dazzling hazel eyes of hers put out for good. Yet, somehow, though the fear remains, it lingers only mildly in the rear of my mind; a real concern, yes, but one that doesn't manifest too fiercely.
No, I don't fear, really, that Brie's been killed. I don't believe we're going to find her in a ditch somewhere, slaughtered or maimed in some horrific way.
My fears, really, come in a different package. That, as her grandmother said, she has done something foolish. And, really, there's only one thing that could be.
She tried to get her grandfather out, I think to myself. Her newfound compassion for the old villain forced her to try to save him. And now...there's only one place she's likely to be.
I put the thought to one side as we work onwards, updating one another as we scour the dead. No sign of Colonel Hatcher. No sign of Marcus. No sign of Brie. The lost Neoromans, though few, inflict wounds on Ares in particular. Though he doesn't show it, I know he's feeling it. No commander likes to lose his men killed. They pile up in his soul, never to be forgotten, as he whispers his own words of grievance for the lost.
We work for some time, constantly on watch. Checking the entire battlefield for our dead, so spread out as it was, would take too long and bring us within close range of their outer wall. Instead, we choose to work towards the eastern flank of their perimeter, moving in the direction of the sentry outposts in a bid to discover what might have happened.
Every so often, we notice movement in the distance again, one or another of us spotting them with our highly advanced vision. The enemy continue to work through the lands as
we are, it seems, trying to piece together exactly what happened. Such is often the case after a chaotic battle like this. Working out how many soldiers you lost, and how many enemy lives you took, takes time. And some soldiers, certainly, count for far more than others.
Once or twice, we come across the living. Not ours, but theirs, Olympian foot soldiers lying maimed and dying in the mud, not yet found by their own search parties. It isn't with a great deal of pleasure that we see to their ends, choosing to kill them rather than take them prisoner.
"We have enough of those already," Ares tells us. "Those we can bargain with if we need to. We don't need any more."
It perhaps seems heartless to finish them off where they lie, Ares drawing his great sword and driving it right into their hearts for a quick, quiet, and mostly painless end. Yet, the reality is quite different. It is, in fact, mercy that drives Ares to take their lives, ending their suffering as they lie half dead in the dirt.
Bit by bit, we move closer to the eastern perimeter, the lands rising towards a hill in the distance. Around us, the earth is potted with ditches and gullies, little thickets of trees still standing here on the far borders of the enemy encampment. Nearer, I notice that the trees and thicker woods that used to proliferate here have been uprooted, the Olympian forces evidently taking to a plan of deforestation in order to provide a clear view around the borders of their camp. A sensible move, certainly, in helping to give them advance warning of an enemy attack.
But here, there's plenty of cover, as we work through the sparse trees, trying to assess our forward route. Ahead, upon the hillside, there's the hint of a sentry outpost dug into the ground, burning from the inside as it chugs out great plumes of smoke. There's some activity nearby, a couple of enemy soldiers attempting to put out the flames, get the sentry post back into working order. I look a little harder, and see that they are, in fact, not soldiers, but workers of some sort, dressed in dirty, ragged shirts and pants, sent out to perform the dangerous repairs.
It tells us, quite plainly, that the enemy borders haven't yet been put back in full working order. That their sentry posts and dugouts remain unmanned and unattended in places. A clear sign, perhaps, that it's taking them a little longer than expected to lick their wounds, take a breather, and work out just what the hell to do next.
We move through a slightly denser thicket, the air growing closer, the light dimming under the canopy above. It looks like a battle took place among these trees, several bodies slumped here and there. My eyes shape off and take in the form of several dead City Guards. There are a couple of Stalkers here too, along with a collection of enemy corpses a little way through the grove.
As I move to check the dead for signs of life, the gentle sound of breathing grows clear to my enhanced ears. It comes from the grouping of our own dead ahead, around a large tree and out of sight. I tense up, drawing a single scimitar blade from its sheath, and slip forward more quickly. I scan the fallen men and women as I go, searching.
My ears pick up something else. A heartbeat; weak, thudding lightly. It comes from the same location, around the large tree ahead. I pick up my pace, passing a couple of dead Stalkers.
The breathing grows louder to my ears, the heartbeat a little stronger. I hear a weak shuffle of movement, a metallic scraping sound. A gun, I realise. A gun being lifted in my direction, pointed around the tree.
They can hear me.
I stop at the bark, staying out of sight. The collection of dead nearby suggests its one of ours. Standing there, I place my hand to the trunk, shut my eyes, and activate the sight. The world comes into view as a three dimensional representation. The lack of sound makes it indistinct and unclear. Yet there, around the side of the tree, I can just about make out the shape of a soldier, sitting up against the trunk, lying in wait with a pulse pistol pointing out.
"I can see you," I say softly. "Identify yourself. And lower the weapon. We are friend, not foe..."
There's a short delay, and then a voice. "Kira?" I hear the voice say. "Is that...you?"
I frown, standing my ground, recognising the slightly raspy tone. "Colonel Hatcher?"
I step around the edge, past the large trunk, and the leader of the Stalkers comes into view, sitting against the thick bole with his weapon pointed right at me. He lets out a sigh and lowers it, his shaking arm dropping immediately into his lap and taking the pistol with it.
"I thought you might be the enemy," he says, releasing a pained breath. He cringes, his other arm holding at his side. I see blood seeping through his fingers. It pools at his thigh, dripping down into the mud. The pallor of his skin looks like he's lost a lot of it.
"How bad is it, Colonel?" I ask, immediately re-sheathing my blade and stepping towards him. I kneel down, performing a quick scan of the wound. He looks to have taken a shot right to the abdomen, the force enough to get through his armour, suggesting it was from close range. It doesn't look good.
"Bad," he admits. "I...I can't move my legs. I think my spine has been hit." He grimaces again, at both the thought, and the pain.
I lean around the side of the tree, noticing Ares and Max off checking through the enemy and other remaining corpses nearby. I hiss across at them, getting their attention, and waving them over. They arrive in a flash.
"He can't walk," I say, as they speed into position, "and he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back to the city as soon as possible."
Ares nods. "We'll have to carry him. I'm assuming the enemy haven't checked these woods for survivors yet?"
Hatcher shakes his head, his posture and movement weak. "Not yet."
"We're well enough hidden here," says Max, looking out. "But they'll get here eventually."
"They will," says Ares. He steps forward, bending his massive frame down to inspect Hatcher's wound. I move back to let him work. His eyes work across Hatcher's body like a human X-ray machine, scanning for internal damage. "You don't have much time, Colonel," he says. "The blood loss is too great. We cannot delay."
"But what about Brie?" I say. "We can't just give up on her."
Ares stops, just a second, pondering the quandary.
"What about Brie?" asks Hatcher, growing ever weaker. "Is she...missing?" he coughs.
I nod with a accompanying sigh. "We heard you were the last to see her. Do you know anything?"
He turns his eyes down, frowning and trying to remember, as though his memory is being affected by his weakened physical state. "She...she went to carry out the execution order on Director Cromwell," he says after a second or two. "She took two of my Stalkers with her. I...I haven't seen her since."
"She went to execute him?" I say. "No, she wouldn't do that."
"I'm not lying to you, Kira," winces Hatcher.
"But she would have lied to you, Colonel," I say. "She probably manipulated you. If anything, she would have gone there to get him out, not kill him."
"So you're saying she entered the enemy encampment?" comes Ares's voice, looking again at the injured man.
Hatcher nods. "Last I saw, she was heading for the shield. We were attacked up at the sentry point nearby. Had to hold off an enemy charge. I lost contact with her after that. I...I had other things to worry about."
"And Captain Marcus?" asks Ares, equally concerned for his own man. "We heard he was fighting alongside her."
"He was there," Hatcher nods. "But...he didn't go into the camp with her. I...I don't know where he went. I lost sight of him during the battle."
I share a look with Ares, setting a deep, trembling thud to my chest.
"If she went into the encampment, and hasn't been seen since, we have to assume she's been captured," Ares says, saying what we've all thinking.
I shut my eyes and slowly shake my head. How could you be so foolish, Brie? Why risk yourself for him...
"And Captain Marcus?" asks Max.
"I don't know," says Ares. "He may have attempted to follow her in, or perhaps he fell elsewhere during the fight. Either way, we have a
difficult choice to make."
"What choice do we have?" asks Max, looking down to Colonel Hatcher. "You said it already, he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back immediately."
"That isn't the choice I'm referring to," says Ares. "Of course, we must get the Colonel back to the city for immediate medical assistance. However, it doesn't take three to accomplish that. It's whether we choose to split up and continue to search for Brie and Marcus."
"Yes," I say, nodding quickly. "I'm not going to give up on her that easily. No way."
"I suspected you'd say that," Ares says. He looks again to Colonel Hatcher, then towards Max. "Do you know the way back to the city, Maximus?" he asks.
"Of course, sir."
"Good. Then you must get the Colonel there as soon as possible."
"And if I run into an enemy search party?"
"I'm sure that won't be a problem for you, Commander," says Ares, narrowing his eyes. "I understand you can use your speed and telekinesis simultaneously?"
Max nods.
"Then carry Colonel Hatcher using your telekinetic power, and hurry as quickly as you can. It would be best to keep him as stable as possible. He may well have a serious spinal injury that would only be exacerbated were you or I to carry him physically. You're the best man for this job, Maximus."
"And I'll do it the best I can, Commander," says Max, saluting with a firm nod. He turns his eyes to Hatcher, and with a grunt of pain from the patient, begins lifting him off the floor and away from the base of the tree. Slowly, he positions him as though he's lying flat on a stretcher, Hatcher stoically trying to stop from howling his obvious agony as he does so. And then, lying straight and immobilised and suspended in mid air, Max begins moving back off through the trees, with the leader of the Stalkers floating along by his side.
"I've never seen telekinesis used like that," I say, watching them leave. "It's quite something."
"It has a range of applications," nods Ares. "Medics in Neorome often have telekinetic powers for that very reason. It also helps them extract bullets without using physical means, and is hugely useful in surgical procedures as well."