by T. C. Edge
"The thought crossed my mind," I grunt.
"And perhaps I would," the Overseer goes on. "If, of course, I'd known of his intentions. The truth is, child, I didn't. I had no knowledge of what was happening over this way, and had no recourse to change it. So try to blame me if that helps you, but know that I had no input in what happened."
"And no willingness to condemn it either," I say. "That says enough for me."
"Yes, of course. To you the world is black and white. Good and evil. You're idealistic, and that's something to admire, but you fail to see the bigger picture."
"If killing innocent slaves is part of that picture of yours, I don't even want to look at it."
"Ah, a line and response for everything. You're tired and upset, I understand that. But fear not, your time in this carriage won't last long. We'll be arriving into Olympus within the week. When we do, you'll find that your living conditions improve dramatically."
"I don't care about my living conditions," I grumble.
"Your face and expression say otherwise, child. Not to mention the, um, smell in this room."
He turns his eyes around, passing by my grandfather. Earlier today, he woke for the first time, though did so only briefly. We shared a few mumbled and mostly incoherent words, but little more.
"How are you, Artemis?" the Overseer asks, looking over to him.
I guide my eyes over too, to find him slumped in one dark corner. He is, by the looks of things, asleep once again. He had little energy when he woke, little to say. I fear that the injury to his head, and the treatment and conditions he's suffered here, have weakened him dreadfully. I fear, still, that he may be fading away.
"Grandfather?" I croak softly, looking over. "Grandfather, can you hear me?" I shuffle along the floor, peering through the gloom. His breathing is soft and yet slightly laboured. His head sits to one side, rolled onto his shoulder. He looks to be a dying man.
"Hmmmm," says the Overseer, perhaps coming to the same conclusion. "He doesn't look well."
"What the hell do you expect," I growl, my voice growing more poisonous. "You make pithy remarks about these conditions, but look at what they've done to him. He needs proper medical treatment. He needs proper care."
"The medic came to see him, didn't he? He assessed him and found he was just fine. I'll see that he comes again..."
"Good luck," I say. "You'd have to raise him from the dead."
He turns his gaze down to me. "I see."
I let out a sigh as I think of the poor old man, Ralph, dragged into that carriage to be roasted alive. I shut my eyes and expel the memory. It is one of many, now, that will haunt me.
Those screams. Those bloodcurdling screams...
"Can he not be taken to a proper bed?" I ask, half pleading in my tone. "Or...have a bed brought in here? Why do you even have him anyway? You've got what you could out of him. He's no use to you anymore."
"He is your grandfather, Brie," the Overseer says. "I thought he'd make for good company for you. Or, perhaps not. I'm a little confused, you see. You fought against him, did you not, with the Nameless? I find it curious, now, that you care for him so much after everything he's put you through."
"Don't pretend like you don't know what happened to him," I say. "You'll have got in his head. You'll know exactly what he went through."
He smiles gleefully, white teeth shining in the dark. "Of course, I cannot trick a girl with your particular skills. Yes, I know exactly what he went through. I know exactly why he has changed so much. This emotional awakening of his when he almost drowned, saved by your dear twin."
I bristle at the mention of Zander, and turn my eyes away.
"It's disappointing, really," the Overseer goes on. "Director Artemis Cromwell was known to us as an utterly uncompromising man of singular focus and intent. To find him so meek and mild is something of a shame."
"To find him human, you mean. I can see why that would be a shame to someone like you."
"Always with the barbs and insults," the old man sighs, his green and golden eyes glinting in the dim light. "It's a good thing I have a thick hide, Brie. These little chats of ours would be dreadful for my self-esteem otherwise."
I almost laugh at the remark, and the thought that comes with it. I turn away and shake my head. I can see how people fall under his spell. He has a certain charm and affability to him that is hard to deny, even when speaking of dreadful things.
I hear him stepping a little closer to my grandfather's cage, peering inside. He looks on for a moment and then turns back to me, a warmth of some kind spreading across his face.
"I had chosen to keep him here for you, Brie," he tells me. "I thought that you'd do well with a friendly face during these troubled times in our stockade. But, yes, I can see that he could do with some attention. We will not be letting him go, but I shall see that he is restored to full health. In that, you have my word."
"I...thank you," I say, a little begrudgingly.
"I'll send a couple of soldiers to gather him up a little later," he goes on. "I just...well, I don't like the idea of you being here all alone. Periods of isolation can be detrimental to a person's mental health. We wouldn't want that happening with you."
The remark is innocently delivered, but with a pointed intent. No, of course. They need my mental health to be in tiptop shape for when I encounter the Prime. Just what their intention is for me I still don't know for sure, though I have my theories.
And none of them are good.
"I'll survive," I say, without much vitality to my voice. "I do OK with Bull coming in every few hours to force feed me those drugs."
"Bull? Ah, I see you have given your guards nicknames. I can guess which of my two men you're referring to," he chuckles. "Yes, a substantial figure of a man, with a penchant for puffing through his nose. Quite appropriate. What have you named the other?"
"Still working on it."
"Might I suggest Dozer," the Overseer says with a smile. He looks at me for a moment as the reference takes shape.
I can't help but lift a wry smile when it comes.
"Bull and Dozer," I say, nodding. "Bulldozer. Not bad."
"I have my moments. Well, good to know they're keeping you company. Or, perhaps that was sarcasm I detected in your voice."
"Impressive, Overseer. I can see what the Prime sees in you..."
"Yes, now I'm sure of it this time. Sarcasm. You know, it was once widely known as the lowest form of wit. It is unbecoming of a mind like yours to turn to it too often."
"Must be the suppression drugs," I grunt. "My powers of wit have been taken from me."
"Ah, touche. That is more like it!"
A rustle of noise outside draws my eyes up as a carriage rolls past, trailed by a cohort of soldiers. As the light continues to fade, it seems that a mist is being brought along with it, closing in fast and making visibility quite poor. I frown as I look out. It doesn't appear to be natural weather.
"You're concealing your departure," I say. "So that our lookouts don't know we're gone."
"Indeed," the Overseer smiles. "Ever so perceptive, even without your gifts. Our Skymasters will draw in a thick fog to shield our exit. It'll help give us a head start, should your people choose to follow."
"And...Skymasters?" I ask. "They can control the weather?"
"Yes," says the Overseer. "To a limited degree. Unfortunately, we lost a large number of them when you ambushed us in the woods when we first arrived. Those we have left aren't our best."
"And do you have a Chosen one of those too?" I ask.
"We...did," the Overseer says. "Master Taranus was badly injured during the ambush. As it turns out, his injuries proved fatal. He...died only last night."
I prepare to apologise, an instinctive response in such situations, but hold my tongue. Instead, I draw back my lips into a snarl and say, "I'm glad."
The Overseer's eyes fall low in a posture of sadness. "I don't blame you," he says softly. "But Master Taranus was a fine
man. It is a shame your experience so far has been limited to the most cruel of us. Nestor. Kovas. Perhaps, you might even think, me. I know I'll find it hard to convince you, of course, that I am a kind man at heart, but when you meet the likes of Lady Dianna, or Herald Gailen, you will see that there is no deceit at all within their kind and caring natures. Amber quickly came to see it. In time, so will you."
I consider his words, and perhaps see that there is some truth to them. When we met on the plains not long ago, I felt that some of Kovas's retinue and leadership group were, probably, decent people beneath it all. No, I don't see the world as merely black and white, good and evil as he suggests. I know full well that many, and perhaps most of those living in Olympus, most of the Children of the Prime, will have decent intentions. And even those who follow cruel practices, and indecent paths, will do so only under the direction and leadership of those above them.
Herald Perses, I suppose, is a good example. He was elected to lead this army, and see through its terrible purpose. Yet, when I stepped into his mind, I found a man with a good heart, a man of honour and conviction to protect and serve his people. Fine traits coiled within years of programming and conditioning. A noble man serving an ignoble purpose, driven to do so by those whom he serves.
The same, I know, will be true of many others. I wonder, as I turn my eyes to him now, whether the Overseer is among that number. Is he a kind man only doing his master's cruel bidding? Or a cruel man merely masquerading as someone kind?
Without my telepathy, it's impossible to know.
"You are such a thoughtful one, aren't you, Brie?" comes the man's voice again, watching me from beyond the bars. "And so young, so virtuous. I know you don't want any of this, but it is my task to see it done. I assure you, things will get easier soon. When we reach Olympus, you will have your mind opened to the truth. That may frighten you now, but it shouldn't. No, it should excite you to have your true potential unleashed."
His words appeal to a part of me, a large part that ever brews on that topic. I have worked night and day to grow stronger, more powerful, always pushing at the boundaries of what I can do. The prospect of unravelling that bundle of string, once and for all, is undeniably tantalising to me.
It is just what the Oversee wants, I know, for me to think this way. Yet, my awareness of that fact doesn't stop it from being true. In some small part, it helps alter my thinking. A portion of my fears are blown away. And in their place, swirls a simmering excitement.
The man in the wondrous robes begins to glide, moving back towards the door. Outside, the gathering mist continues to thicken, casting all those moving past the door into a blur. He turns as he leaves, and looks once more upon my grandfather, breathing laboriously in his slump.
"I'll see that he's taken to a more comfortable setting," the Overseer says. "But, while you assure me you're just fine here on your own, I don't truly believe it. No, you shouldn't have to travel in solitude, child. I have another cellmate for you who will help you pass the hours and days."
I frown as he prepares to step away. "Who?" I call out. "Who else do you have!"
He turns to me with a smile. "A friend of yours from across the sea. We captured him entering the camp. Killed several of our men trying to get to you. The boy must care for you dearly."
My chest seizes up. "Marcus," I whisper. "You have Marcus!"
"He is unhurt, Brie. Do not be concerned. The boy is, in fact, in fine spirits. He has earned the right to see you, as you have him. Now relax, and be calm. We will make the exchange with your grandfather soon."
Those words are the last he utters, before he slips away into the murky grey fog.
13
Brie
I find myself pacing for an hour, up and down, up and down in that tiny little cell of mine. I must have done a thousand laps by the time night has truly fallen, watching as the carriages slowly roll by, one by one, moving into position at the rear of the base as they prepare to set off on their long journey home.
Eventually, after the hour that seems like an age, I hear the stamping tread of Bull outside. I know it, by now, given the number of times he's served me my pills. He has a slow, steady stamp to him that, in some ways, reminds me a little of Drum.
Here, though, to be reminded of such things isn't good. To think of those I care for will not strengthen my spirit, but weaken it. My thoughts, I know, are my own. And though my powers have been temporarily taken, I still have control over that aspect of my life. For now, at least...
The plodding of the incoming Bull lasts only a few steps, before the door is quickly swung open with a heavy creak and crash, as it clatters into the wooden wall. The aptly nicknamed half-Brute lets out a puff of air through his nose as he steps inside. Behind him, comes his ally, Dozer, almost equal his size but unable to match Bull's more burly demeanour.
"All right, let's gather him up," rumbles Bull's voice as the two oversized men step inside. I see, through the murk beyond, that a couple of other guards are awaiting outside in the mists, their frames little more than shadows within the fog. They stand beside someone in chains.
My chest clenches as I take in Marcus's outline...
"No funny business from you, girl," grunts Dozer, moving behind his marginally larger compatriot. I turn to look at him with a frown and a shrug. "I know what you're like," he goes on. "Stop making trouble and no trouble will come to you."
"What are you talking about?" I say, my face scrunching in utter confusion. "I haven't made any trouble."
"Well, keep it that way. Take your pills and do as you're told, all right. It's time for another feeding."
I frown, losing track of time. "Already?"
"Been four hours," Dozer says, stepping towards my bars. He reaches through with two pills in his hand. "You gonna take them yourself, or do I need to come in there and push them down your throat?"
"I'll take them," I say, irritated. "You two need to start learning to trust me."
Bull stops at the gate of my grandfather's cell. He sends a stern set of eyes on Dozer. "Get in there and make sure," he booms, marking himself as the leader of these two mountainous morons. "We gotta be sure she's swallowed them."
"Oh, she's good for it. Aren't you, girl?"
I shrug. "Sure. I'll take them right by the bars if you like."
"See," says Dozer. "It's all right."
"It's not all right," grunts Bull. "You gotta see them down her throat. One slip up and we don't know what she might do. It takes a second for Prime's sake. Just do it. I'll fetch the old man."
Begrudgingly, Dozer moves around to open the door of my cell, stepping in with a slightly disgruntled look on his face. He hands me the pills as Bull steps in to collect my grandfather.
"Go on then, let me see you swallow them."
I toss the pills into my mouth as I usually do, and open wide to allow the oaf to inspect the interior. With a nod to confirm, he steps away again and out of the cage. He's a darn sight more easy to work with than Bull, that's for sure.
I sigh as a feel the pills falling into my stomach, ready to disperse their contents into my system. It's the third time in a row now that I've lost track of time, finding myself unable to commune with Zander, even for a moment, before I get another dose shoved into my mouth. It doesn't matter so much now, I know, but I need to be more mindful of it for later. Soon enough, I'll be desperate to hear what updates he might be able to bring me. And the windows through which to hear them are going to be very narrow indeed.
I turn my attention to the opposite cell, as Bull hauls Artemis into his arms and makes his way out. I'm surprised by the careful way he lifts him and ushers him through the door, making sure he doesn't hit his head or bump himself elsewhere as they pass.
"I'll see you soon, grandfather," I say to him, as the old man is hauled away. I see his eyes flicker at my voice, opening faintly to look at me. "Grandfather," I say. "Grandfather..."
"B-Brie," he croaks. His eyes look around, as Bull carries him t
hrough the stockade. "What...what's happening."
"Stop. Stop a moment, would you!"
Bull, again showing some strange compliance, does as requested. He does glare at me, though. Clearly, he hasn't gone completely soft. "You've got thirty seconds," he grunts. "Don't like spending more time in here than I have to."
I nod and move as close as I can to the bars. Bull places Artemis onto his legs, propping him against my cell. He's just about strong enough to hold himself there, his eyes weak as they look right at me.
"You're being taken for attention, Artemis," I say. "I've been promised they'll make you better, OK."
He nods, though doesn't appear to fully understand. His eyes turn left and right again, as though some form of dementia has set in.
"We're still in the Olympian camp, grandfather," I say. "We're...being taken north."
I see a faint smile move onto his lips. His eyes appear to clear, the vague mistiness cast away. "Grandfather," he whispers.
"Yes, yes," I say. "You're my grandfather." I reach to the bars and squeeze on his fingers. "I'll see you soon, OK? You'll be back to your old self in no time."
I smile, and see him return the expression. With a customary puff through the nose, Bull then stamps back forwards, and plants a heavy paw on Artemis's shoulder. "Enough," he says. "We're leaving any minute now. Come on."
He draws Artemis away, and lifts him back up, placing him on his shoulder.
"I'll see you soon, grandfather," I call as he's taken away. "Everything's going to be fine."
Bull moves back off into the grey murk outside the door, Dozer trailing behind him. I see the half-Brute stop where the other guards wait. He grabs the captive's chains and begins drawing him inside after him.
And a moment later, I see Marcus's face materialise.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh with joy that he's here with me. Cry with grief for the very same thing.