Fractured

by T. C. Edge

  "Kira," Dom says, turning to me. "You are not going out there alone. I know this isn't my city, and I know you're to be my wife, but that is an order."

  I smile at him. "OK," I whisper. I turn my eyes to the floor. "I'll bring Max with me. He's as fast as I am and his telekinesis might come in handy. Good enough?"

  He considers it a second. I know how much faith Dom places in Max. He is the sort of man, Dom says, who never makes the wrong decision, morally incorruptible and utterly devoted to his duty. A good person to mind me, then.

  "Fine," he says after a pause. "I'd suggest that Ares go too, but he's otherwise engaged in war planning. I also need him here, lending his support to my request for further aid. His voice counts for a lot in Neorome. The senate respect him greatly."

  "We'll be fine without Ares," I say. "Like I say, we won't take long."

  "Well, might I suggest you change into more appropriate attire," Dom says, turning his eyes over my Red Warrior outfit. "I assume this mission requires a little more stealth?"

  "Um, yes Dom, thank you," I say. "I had intended on changing."

  "Good," he smiles. "Well, I'm due a break. I'll come and help you out of those robes..."

  He steps torwards me, and I lift my hand to his chest to hold him back. "Very funny," I say. "But now isn't the time." I step in and give him a sniping kiss to the cheek. "I'll see you soon, OK?"

  "Fine," he says, shaking his head. "Just... be careful."

  "Always," I smile. I step away towards the door. "Oh, one more thing," I add, turning back. "Could you speak with Adryan while I'm gone. He's been having some trouble with Brie. Marriage on the rocks, and all that. Talk to him. Show him how to be, you know, a stay-at-home husband to a warrior goddess."

  "That's what I am to you?" he asks, meeting my vibrant grin head on. "A stay-at-home husband?"

  "Yup," I say. "You and Adryan both. You're, you know, better suited to suits and meetings. You know, talking. Leave the fighting to me and Brie."

  "To the 'warrior goddesses', right?"

  "There you go. Got it in one." I grin again, and dash towards him in a flash, planting a more robust kiss right onto his lips. "Just, make him understand, OK," I whisper. "Can you try, at least?"

  "Of course," he says. "I'll...see what I can do."

  "Thanks," I say. "Love you."

  I dash towards the door.

  "Love you too," he says.

  I step out into the bustling command centre, ready to fetch Max, change into something more appropriate, and head back out into the wilds.

  Half an hour later, I slow as we pass the Olympian camp, set off to the west of us about five hundred metres away. Alongside me, Max scans for possible scouts or lookouts, dressed similarly to me in a suit of dark combat armour provided by the City Guard.

  "Where did the Amber girl say we should start?" Max whispers to me. He turns his eyes around. We're in roughly the same area we were earlier that day, not far from where we found Colonel Hatcher, and close to the sentry outpost a little way outside of the Olympian base.

  I have come here for a reason, hoping to hear Brie's voice once more. I can sense nothing of her as I go. There is no voice in my head right now.

  "She said it was towards the northeast," I say, pointing forwards with my eyes. "That way."

  "Right."

  We hurry onwards, working around the perimeter.

  I think I sense something, some flutter in the depths of my consciousness, but don't stop this time to let it flourish. It sounds almost like...Zander. I briefly shut my eyes as I go and, as before, see the vaguest outline of his figure appear before me. I get the sense that his lips are moving, but hear only muted, muffled words.

  He disappears suddenly, blown off like scattered leaves in the breeze as Max's voice hisses into my ears, drawing my attention back into the world.

  "Stop," he says, forcing my eyes back open. I feel his hand on my arm, pulling me down. He looks at me curiously. "What were you doing?"

  "I...nothing," I say. I look up. "What's the problem..."

  I don't have to ask. There, ahead, I see a small enemy patrol moving around the camp perimeter, between the energy shield and the various sentry positions. They seem to be carrying weapons away from one of them, heading back for the main base.

  "Looks like they're packing up," Max says, watching as a large enemy Brute carries a heavy, fixed gun placement on his shoulders. A few other soldiers seem to have gathered up whatever weapons, ammo, and other provisions that were stored within the sentry dugout.

  "Could be moving base," I suggest. "Relocating."

  Max nods pensively. "Or just abandoning that particular lookout post," he says.

  We continue to watch for a moment as the soldiers move towards the shield, which begins to crackle and fade away, allowing them entry through. As soon as they've passed, it fills in again, becoming once more the strange, undulating wall of blue energy and light.

  "Right. We're clear," says Max. "Let's go."

  We stand from our crouched position and work further towards the northeast, my mind now firmly distracted from Zander's odd, blurred presence.

  Reaching a section to the northeast of the camp, the rolling hillside now littered with stumps of trees having been cut down and deforested, I set about trying to track the possible movement of Jude and his band of slaves. Max, too, aids me in my task, his own eyes keen enough to spot tracks and trails in the dirt.

  It takes a few minutes to pinpoint our likely target, signified by a grouping of prints and tracks that seem like they've been made by work boots, and not the other military footwear that we identify as being used by the patrolling soldiers. We spot signs of blood too, suggesting that the battle may have stretched all the way back here.

  We begin following the tracks as they lead off across the plains and towards the woods in the distance, far enough from the Olympian base to have escaped their axes and saws.

  "Amber mentioned to me how they were heading in this direction," I inform Max, as we dart along, tracing the faint markings in the earth that most would hardly be able to spot.

  "Sensible to head for the cover of the trees," Max says, in that well balanced manner of his. His voice rarely goes high or low, seeming quite comfortable within a narrow, controlled, range.

  "You clearly don't know these woods," I find myself answering, staring off towards the east. My mind fills with men of white, their skin painted, their heads and faces hidden behind helmets and masks made from human, and animal, skulls.

  "Tribespeople?" Max asks, furrowing his brow. "Like these Fangs you seem so friendly with?"

  I shake my head. "Not like them," I say. "A different tribe. We call them the Skullers. They're the most feral of all the people who live in this area."

  "Scullers? Interesting name."

  "They like wearing body parts," I grunt, the disgust rather clear in my voice. "Skulls for masks, ribs for necklaces, that sort of thing. Pretty grim stuff."

  "And there are a lot of them to the northeast?"

  I draw a breath and shrug. "We haven't seem them around for a while. They tend to be itinerant, moving about a lot. It's possible they've departed these lands with all that's been going on. But if they haven't, and they come across Jude..." I shake my head. "We'd be lucky to find much remaining of them. Yeah, I forgot to say, they're cannibals too."

  "Lovely," Max says, raising an eye. "Are they regular people? Aside, well, from the cannibalism and strange choice of attire."

  I smile at his dry wit. "As regular as the Fangs, I guess. They're not generally Enhanced, but probably have some Enhanced blood in them from generations back. Shouldn't be a problem for us. But, it's not us I'm thinking about."

  We speed on, nearing the fringe of the forest, the trees and plant life thinly dispersed around the perimeter and growing thicker the further in you go. It's not a part of the lands surrounding the city that I, or anyone, has explored in great depth. Our time with the Nameless had us mostly hunting within the west
ern woods, where the Fangs once lived. Rarely did we venture into the forests at the foot of the mountains, occupied by the Bear-Skins, or these lands further to the east where the Skullers used to be spotted, unless through necessity.

  Stopping within the outer lining of trees, we confirm the direction of the trail. Within a slightly boggier, muddier section, we find several deeper impressions in the earth, owned by a series of boots of various sizes. I quickly count at least twenty that are unique, my eyes capable of scanning for the slightest different in shoe size, as well as the depth of the impression itself, which allows me to build a simple sketch of the likely size and weight of those who made the marks.

  It's rudimentary, but quickly confirms that we're on the right track.

  Yet, a few prints don't seem to fit. Set off to one side, they appear separated from the main group. I move over to them, and see that the indentations are different, the treads and tracks creating different patterns in the mud. And one set, in particular, is overly large for a normal person.

  Max steps over to join me, scanning the prints himself.

  "They have Brutes among the slaves?" he asks, staring at the wide, deep prints in the mud.

  I shake my head. "I...wouldn't have thought so."

  He looks up and into the woods, growing thicker and darker ahead. "Enemy soldiers in pursuit?" he says.

  I nod, looking the same way. "They must have been sent to track them down."

  We link eyes, as my body begins to brim with a sudden urgency. "Then we have no time to lose," Max says.

  Turning to follow the trail, as the sun begins its long descent for the night, we dash off at great pace into the foreboding woods ahead.

  9

  Brie

  The interior of the prison becomes increasingly dark as night time falls.

  The oppressive gloom begins to bear down on me, my Hawk-vision reduced to its human form. I have grown used to living without such blackness, used to seeing what others cannot. Now, I see little more than the dull outline of things; the bars of the cage, the walls of the prison, the cell across the way. And, inside, the faint figure of my grandfather, still lying unconscious in a heap.

  I have given up trying to coax him awake by now, hoping that old Ralph's diagnosis is accurate. Even unconscious, he gives me some comfort being in here with me. Knowing he could wake up at any point helps to keep my fears grounded, the panic from truly setting in.

  Yet, still it begins to brew, as I sit in the corner on the cold wooden floor, pondering what Kovas told me.

  We won't be here much longer, he'd said. If your Neoroman allies come, they will land to find us gone...

  Outside, I can hear early signs of that now. There's a general hum that would otherwise be indistinct were Kovas not to have informed me of their plans. Now, I know, it's different, the army slowly packing itself up and preparing to leave. They will do so, I imagine, under the cover of darkness to confuse my people, who will rise one morning, perhaps tomorrow or the next, to find that we have disappeared.

  We, I think, dwelling on it all. I am to be taken to Olympus along with them.

  I hadn't expected that to happen so quickly. I'd thought that we'd be here long enough for my people to stage an escape attempt and try to get me out. There's...little chance of that happening now.

  I turn my mind from such dark thoughts, knowing little is in my hands and control, and that dwelling on it all isn't going to be productive. I do recall, however, how I felt when under Nestor's controls. How, gradually, the idea of seeing Olympus, of meeting the Prime, began to have a great appeal to me.

  Sitting there, something of that remains. Something deep down, caged in the depths, begins to open its enclosure, creeping out with a gleeful smile upon its face. A dormant desire now beginning to bubble up from below.

  Brie...Brie, can you hear me?

  The voice startles me. It's faint and weak, calling from a great distance. But I know it as intimately as any sound.

  Zander, I say, shutting my eyes. I try to gather my focus and enter into the strange, ethereal realm where he dwells. Yet the blackness remains, the world dark and gloomy, covered in shadow, concealing Zander's form.

  As his voice comes again, I try to pinpoint it. And there, in the murky light, I see his faint outline come into view.

  Your powers are returning, Brie, he calls out to me. This might be the only time we can talk, when the effects of the drugs are starting to wear off. We won't have much time before they give you another dose...

  His voice remains faint and difficult to decipher. I strain my mind and narrow my eyes, searching into the shadows.

  Be mindful of this Brie, he calls again, his voice slowly clearing. The drugs will start to wear off after four hours. Only then will we be able to speak. Listen for me. Search for me...

  I nod quickly. I will, brother. Do you know what's happening?

  I sense him nodding. I know, he says. They're packing up and leaving. You won't be here much longer, Brie. I...I sensed Kira again nearby a little time ago. She's heading east, I think. I tried to speak with her, but couldn't get through. But...I think she sensed something.

  Then it's working, I say, enthused. You can communicate with her without my aid.

  Maybe, he calls. She will need to focus, and be near. It won't be easy. I will keep trying, whenever I can.

  I stare at him, trying to imagine his features, his form nothing more than a shadow amidst a world of them. He gives me strength as he always does. Knowing that my neutral link with Kira may allow him to communicate with her does the same.

  It's something the Overseer cannot know. It is something I will need to keep quiet.

  They're coming, Brie, Zander says. Look for me again when the drugs wear off. I'll be here, waiting...

  Just as he speaks, I sense movement outside the door, drawing my attention towards it. I open my eyes and hear the familiar sounds that precede its opening, muffled and dull, before, as expected, the door is unlocked, opening up with a wooden creak.

  Outside, I see firelight, several camps set up around the Olympian base to provide warmth and a place to cook food. The warm, orange glow flickers and illuminates the face of one of the large guards who watches over me. He stamps forwards, as before, heading right for the cage.

  "You gonna make this easy on me?" he grunts, stepping into the light, and up towards the bars. He's the same one who bent them earlier, my stinging insults testing his temper.

  I stand to my feet as he comes around the side and opens the gate. He steps in, looming over me, holding two pills in his palm.

  I take them off him, and toss them into my mouth. He eyes me closely to make sure I swallow, then grabs my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and guides his eyes inside.

  He holds me there for a moment as he scans the interior, before grunting to himself and easing his grip.

  Letting me go, he shoves me backwards, my light frame tumbling against the back wall.

  "Hey! Is that necessary?" I stammer, a shudder of pain rushing through my shoulder as I connect with the woods. "I swallowed them, all right."

  "Had to check," he grunts. "Can't miss a dose, the Overseer said."

  "And do you have to be so violent about it? You couldn't have just asked." I rub my jaw, and cheeks, his grip firm enough to provide some discomfort.

  "It'll teach you," he says, stepping backwards towards the door of the cell. "Just do as you're told and we won't have any problems."

  "I was doing what I was told!" I say, puffing out a breath.

  I take a step back and slump to the floor, shaking my head.

  "I wouldn't bother," he says. "You're wanted outside."

  I slowly arch my eyes up to him. "What?"

  He steps forward with a quick pace, reaches down to grab my arm, and hauls me to my feet. "Outside. Herald Kovas wants to see you."

  "You're kidding," I growl, tying to pull my arm away. It's no use. I'm nothing but a squirming kitten to this man.

  He drags me out
of the cell and into the open space. I find my unwillingness to cooperate soon vanishing as I consider the benefits of getting out of this prison and into the fresh air. I let the oaf, who I quickly decide to start calling Bull - you know, after the big, ornery animal - pull me along without resisting. He realises that I've decided to play along by the time we reach the door, releasing me so that I can walk through unaided.

  I do so before him as he puffs behind me, quickly living up to his adopted nickname, ushering me down the steps and onto the muddy patch outside. I take in the flow of activity with a glance, the camp hastily being rearranged and packed up. The various small structures around, I now see, are being reconfigured into carriages, lifting up onto wheels so that they can manage the long journey home. Not far away, off towards the slaves camp, I see that a couple of them have been set ablaze, presumable unneeded now and no more than an unnecessary burden.

  From around one of the nearby carriages, a small group come marching towards me, Herald Kovas bordered by a small retinue of guards. He waves a hand and they stop, leaving him to move up to me alone. Behind me, I sense that Bull has also stepped away to give us some space.

  "Must be nice to step into the open air, Brie," the Herald says. He draws in a long swig of it, a horrible smile simmering on his face. "That stockade is truly repellent. But you'll get used to it, don't worry."

  "Is there a point to this, Kovas," I say, looking right at him. "You clearly enjoy torturing sick old men. Enjoy doing the same to young girls like me, do you?"

  "You think this is torture, child?" he asks. "What ignorant words. Clearly, you've never suffered real torture. It isn't a pleasant experience," he says, fingering at a scar on his jaw, "I can assure you of that."

  "Better than listening to you ramble on," I mutter, turning to look away.

  My eyes search through the mess of moving bodies, down towards the worker's camp. I stare into the flames of a burning carriage. Several soldiers stand around it, just staring at it too.

  "You'd like to take a closer look?" comes the voice of the Herald, whispering closer to me. "Come, let's warm by the fire. We'll start up a fresh one, just for you."