Fractured

by T. C. Edge

  "Marc," I say, my voice breaking. "What the hell possessed you to come after me..."

  I see his lips pull apart, his bright teeth revealed as he sees me. He shakes his head and shrugs. "Wasn't going to let you have all the fun now was I?" he says.

  His words force a laugh from my lips, though tears begin to wet my eyes as well. I can't balance the two. I wish he wasn't here, yet am so very happy he is. It's hard to reconcile such divergent emotions.

  "Come on, boy, this way."

  Dozer pulls him along, holding a mild smile on his face as he does so. He opens up the door to my grandfather's old cell and leads Marcus inside, before releasing him from his chains.

  "Thanks, big man," Marcus says. "You got my pills for me?"

  "Aha, sure do," says Dozer. "I almost forgot there."

  "Oh, don't be silly. I wouldn't let you do that. You'd only get in trouble."

  "Looking out for me, are you kid?" Dozer smiles.

  "Sure," Marcus says. "You're just doing your job, right? Might as well do it right. Not like I'm going anywhere."

  I frown as I watch the interaction, utterly perplexed.

  "You realise you did kill a friend of mine when you got into the camp," Dozer says, his smile slipping.

  "Yeah, but come on, it's war, right?" says Marcus, treading a little more carefully. "These things...,well, they happen. And look at her," he says, turning his eyes towards me with a grin. "She's gorgeous, come on. I did it to try to get her out. You can understand that, right?"

  Dozer begins to nod slowly. Then his smile returns. "I never really liked him much anyway, actually," he says. "Not a proper friend."

  "There you go," says Marcus. "So no need to hold a grudge. We're all just warriors born into different systems. Every one of us is the same at heart."

  "I suppose I can get on board with that," Dozer says, coming across a little more thoughtful than I'd have imagined. "You lot aren't exactly, er, divine like we are, but..." He stops, trailing off, and begins shaking his head. He doesn't say it, but I suspect that Dozer, dumb though he looks and comes across, is smart enough to know that he, and his people, are no more 'divine' than we are.

  Outside, another carriage rumbles by, the convoy evidently preparing to leave quite imminently. "Right, better get off," Dozer says, spinning around. He steps from the cell and locks the door, before rushing off towards the door. "I'll be back in four hours for your next dose," he says.

  "I'll save my appetite," Marcus calls back.

  Both men smile as the half-Brute leaves the carriage, shutting the door tight.

  Within the darkened space, I look over at Marcus in a state of total bewilderment. "What the hell was all that?" I whisper, my eyes wide open, my mouth the same.

  Marcus turns to look at me from across the short corridor. "What?"

  "That. All that kidding and joking around. Don't tell me you're actually friends with him?"

  "Haven't you been a captive before, Brie?" Marcus asks, his lips working into a smirk.

  "Yeah. Twice, actually. This is my hat trick."

  "Then you should know better than anyone that it's always best to befriend your guards. Better that than pissing them off, right? They treat you better, give you the odd liberty. Sometimes they even let secrets slip from their lips. And those can be most revealing."

  "Secrets?" I say, leaning in. "Like what?"

  "Like...well, we're not at that stage yet. But it'll come, in time."

  "Right, well I'll be right here, at the edge of my seat."

  "Very droll, Brie."

  I grin from within my darkened cell, his presence enough to cast half my concerns away. "What...what the hell happened, Marc," I say, still refusing to believe that he's actually here. "I mean, you came after me? Really? What did you think would happen?"

  "One of three things," he says swiftly, holding up his hand to count them out on his fingers. "One, I'd get in, and get you out, and you'd fall in love with me for saving you, and we'd start a family, get a dog, and live happily ever after. Or, you know, a cat if you want. I'm easy. One of each, maybe?"

  "Marc..."

  "Two," he continues quickly. "I'd get in, try to get you out, screw it up, and get myself captured. That's kinda what happened." He draws a breath. "And three, the worst of all. I'd get in, try to get you out, screw it up, and get myself killed. And maybe even you too. I was kinda hoping for number one to come true. But, you know, with number two I've still got time, right?"

  "Time to get me out, start a family, get a dog and a cat, and live happily ever after?" I ask.

  "That. Exactly that. And have you fall in love with me, of course."

  "Of course," I say, letting out a saddened sigh. "I think they call that wishful thinking, Marc." My mind flutters briefly towards Adryan. I shut my eyes and turn away from thoughts of my husband. Weakness, I think. Such thoughts will only bring weakness...

  I open them up again, refocusing on the here and now, on what I can control. I find Marcus looking at me softly from his cell.

  "In truth," he says, growing suddenly serious, "I knew you were in trouble so I just came. I didn't think about it. I didn't consider the consequences. I just acted. And you know what, Brie?"

  "What?" I croak.

  "I'd do it again. Every single time. Because that's what friends do."

  I feel a wetness on my eyes again, hopefully hidden by the dim light. "Marc," I whisper, furtively wiping the burgeoning tears away. "Since when have you been so damn sweet."

  "Since forever," he says, grinning. "Don't go thinking yourself special, though. I'd have done it for anyone I know."

  "Right. Of course." I smile softly to myself. It's nice to have someone who'd do anything for you. Such people are...rare. I look at him again, trying to ascertain if he's hurt at all. It's hard in the faint light of that cell. "Where have you been?" I ask. "They've...treated you OK?"

  "Mostly fine," he says. "I got roughed up a bit when I was first captured, but nothing since then. They've had me in another one of these carriages. An old troop carrier, I think. Got a few spare now that they've lost over a thousand men."

  "They've lost that many?" I ask.

  I see him nod. "Overheard a few of the guards speaking. More than a quarter of their original forces are dead, apparently. So, yeah, a lot more than a thousand if they started with five thousand."

  "I guess that's why they're leaving," I say.

  "Partly," he says. "Lost half their leadership too as far as I can work out."

  "Oh? Aside from Perses?"

  "Yeah. Remember that huge great Brute who fought Ares?"

  "Atlas," I say, recalling the name.

  "Yeah. Well, looks like Ares finished that job at the second attempt. Then there are those two Fire-Elementals, those kids with golden hair and eyes. Both of them are captured, apparently."

  "Really? Amber's been taken?"

  "Seems like it. Neither of them are among the dead, so..."

  "Interesting," I say, pondering it. Amber certainly seems the sort who might turn, from what I know of her. She could be used to help our cause. "I'm guessing you've spent some time with the Overseer?" I ask. I shake my head. Marcus was aware that Perses was alive and held captive in New Haven. If the Overseer has searched his mind, he may well have discovered that by now too.

  "Yeah, I've spoken with him," Marcus nods. "Interesting old man, isn't he?"

  "You could say that," I grunt. "We can't trust him, though, Marc. I know he comes across as charming, but it's his job to draw us in. You have to try to resist."

  "Right. Easier said than done..."

  From beneath our feet, a light rumble begins to tickle, the carriage starting to roll off into position at the rear of the base. It jolts, suddenly, forcing me to grip the bars to stop from tripping over. I instinctively turn to look at the door, as though I might be able to see out of it. I draw a breath. "We're leaving."

  "Olympus," I hear Marcus say to the side. "I'm told we'll take almost a week to get t
here."

  I nod, a feeling of dread pervading my interior, and yet infused with a muted core of excitement and intrigue. "They're going to try to use us, Marc," I whisper. "They're going to use our powers. Try to turn them to their side."

  "We won't let them," Marcus says. I turn and find that he's pressed right up against the bars. The movement of the carriage allows some light to come in from the small, barred windows high up on the walls of the cells, previously blocked by other troop carriers parked nearby. Moonlight shines in from the one in my cell, casting its glow across to Marcus, shining down upon him as he stands at the bars of his cell. His eyes hold a firm conviction, warm and brown and so comforting for me here. "We won't let them, Brie," he repeats.

  I smile at him and hold my tongue. I don't want to deny his attempts to comfort me, or comfort himself. Yet the reality, I know, is quite different. There may be little we can do to stop them.

  "Keep track of the time," I say. "They'll be back in four hours to give us another dose. I need to be aware of when that will be. Make sure I'm focused then."

  "Focused on what?" he asks quietly.

  "It's...complicated," I say. "And it isn't easy to explain."

  His eyes shift left and right. Around us, the low rumble of dozens of moving carriages fills the air. "We've got time, Brie," he says. "Go ahead, try me. I'm smarter than I look." I don't answer immediately. Marcus speaks again. "Your brother," he says. "This is about him, isn't it?"

  I turn my eyes up, nodding.

  "I've heard a few things," he says. "But...I'd like to hear more. Go ahead, tell me, Brie. Tell me about him. Tell me how I can help."

  He drops to the floor, sitting at the bars, settling in like a child eagerly waiting to be told a story from his mother. And so, as the convoy begins to leave, and New Haven drifts into the distance, I tell Marcus the story of my brother.

  The tragic story of Zander.

  14

  Kira

  Our mission to abduct Jude under the cover of darkness goes without a hitch. My instincts, it seems, were spot on, the troop of deserters, exhausted from the day's march, taking an early rest within a small canyon pass among the hills.

  Though bundled tight, and keeping within close range of one another, Max is able to extricate Jude from the others without alerting anyone. He does so, with quite magnificent skill, from the summit of the canyon wall above, lifting Jude away in his sleep, picking him like a flower from the earth. The young man stirs as he rises, twenty metres up into the cool night air, though doesn't have a chance to fully wake. Drawing him in, Max grips at his neck at a particular pressure point, rendering him unconscious.

  "He'll be out for a good while," he informs me, as I look down into the canyon to find that the lookouts, stationed at either side, haven't seen a thing.

  "Good," I whisper. "Best keep him unconscious until we get back to the city. I don't want the hassle of dealing with him when he wakes."

  Max lets out a soft sigh. "Do we not try to persuade them again?" he asks, looking down. "If you're certain they will perish, then..."

  "We don't have time, Max," I say, growing increasingly wary of our extended departure from the city. "With just us, we can get back by early morning. If we have to protect that lot it'll take days. We can't afford it, and they wouldn't agree anyway."

  "And when they wake to find that their leader is gone?"

  "Then they'll elect another," I say. "I know it sounds heartless, but we have bigger problems right now to worry about than babysitting a few foreign deserters. If they're too stubborn to realise that we're trying to help them, then far be it for me to continue to try. We did our best, Max. There's little more we can do."

  He nods, eyes still turned down into the chasm. "I agree," he says, helping to assuage some of my brewing guilt. "We have opened the door and they have refused to walk through it. Our responsibilities lie with our own people, and we have been gone too long."

  "And we have plenty far to go yet," I say, drawing a weary breath. "Do you think you can manage to carry him at speed with your telekinesis?"

  "Until I start to lose concentration, yes," he says. "I should be good for some hours yet. When my mind grows weary, I will turn to my body. I should have little trouble carrying him on my shoulders."

  "And here was me thinking I'd come alone," I say. I smile up at the stern-faced Neoroman. "I'm glad you're here, Max. I couldn't have done it without you."

  "Anything I can do to aid my future Empress, I will," Max smiles. He turns to the wilds, to the many miles we’ve travelled today, and the many more we trekked the previous night. "Shall we?"

  And so, off we set, our target kidnapped, our mission half complete. I take a final look at the deserters down below. And with a mixed feeling of guilt and hope that they may yet survive, we set off on our way home.

  The night is long and arduous, a slog that we both want to end. Returning the way we came, we speed quickly back towards the ruins where we encountered Jude and his deserters the previous morning. It is, we know, the easier part of the journey. Ahead, the long and ominous woods lie in wait. With a weary breath, we step back into them, disappearing into the darkness.

  With Jude being telekinetically hauled along by Max, the going is a little slower than before. Given the concentration required by Max to both carry Jude, and move at a reasonable pace, it falls on me alone to watch our flanks for the threat of any incoming danger. To accomplish this, I'm forced to slow as well, drawing as much of my own power as possible to my augmented senses, while keeping only some back to be deployed for my Dasher speed.

  The first hours are without incident, though as the deepest ebb of night approaches, I sense the presence of ominous energies gathering within the trees around us. Eyes begin to glow, blinking shut as soon as I look at them. Figures and shadows of forms move silently through the foliage, moving along with us. They stay back and out of sight, perhaps only driven by curiosity and with no true intent to attack. I sense, mostly, that they are Shadows of the Outerlands, the morbid, twisted forms of man who remain timid, mostly, when encountering our people.

  They have some sense, I know, of when to strike and when to stay back. Aware, perhaps, of those with powers and those without. Self preservation drives them as much as the need to feed, and watching us pass, they must realise that we're too big a threat to take on.

  They don't stay with us long, following for a time, assessing, and then departing back into the night. They scurry away, disappearing into the foliage as they blend immediately back into the darkness. Max, his own Hawk senses limited by his telekinetic focus, looks about with narrow eyes. He'd never admit it, of course, but I can see that he is nervous.

  "What are those things?" he growls, as we stop for a moment, making sure we're alone. "The Skullers your speak of?"

  I shake my head. "Shadows," I whisper. "Mutated forms of man. They live all over these lands. Don't worry, they won't attack. This is probably their territory, and they're just ushering us through."

  I withdraw my pistol, however, just in case. Max notices and raises an eye.

  "Precaution," I say. "Other beasts like to hunt at night."

  We continue on, entering into a thicker network of boles and branches, forced to slow and work through the tighter spaces with a little more care. Though we're well powered and armoured, the presence of Jude is now a problem we have to consider. Drawn along by Max, he is little more than bait to some of the beasts here, the scent of his rugged old clothes, and the fresh wounds upon his body, luring them in.

  I hear the first growl as the moon starts to fall, indicating to me that the night is finally on the wane. Morning won't be too far off. Yet as we know, the night is darkest just before the dawn. And darkness suits the creatures here.

  Another growl joins the first, and a third and fourth. They come from not one place, but several, a gathering of beasts pressing in from all sides. I turn immediately to Max, and lift my eyes to the trees. Above, I see a fork in a branch that looks
sturdy enough to hold Jude's weight.

  "Get him up there. Now!" I say.

  He does so immediately, focussing a little harder as he lifts Jude into the trees. He drops him into the nook of the branches, and does so just in time. From several sides, the growling is joining by deep, dangerous snarls as the beasts around us begin to close in.

  The trees rustle, and the air grows still. I lift my pistol and, staring through the darkness with my Hawk-eyes, see the giant, feral wolves begin to appear.

  In a sudden rush, they come right at us, closing in from all sides. I fire on instinct, and draw out a blade with my spare hand, the light of my pistol flashing in the darkness as the gruesome beasts close. Behind me, standing to my back, I hear Max firing too. A sudden, thunderous cacophony fills the world, shattering the silence of the night.

  I kill several before one gets near, moving at great speed from my flank. I see it just in time, ducking away and slashing at it with my knife. It's thick fur takes most of the brunt, creating a strong coating of armour to conceal its more tender flesh beneath. Max, noticing the commotion, spins around as the wolf comes again, rushing at me with snapping, dripping jaws.

  He reaches out and squeezes his hand into a fist, gripping the wolf with his telekinesis. It's eyes bulge suddenly as the invisible force coils around it, stopping it in its tracks. With a swing of the arm, Max flings the beast off through the brush, its body tumbling and rolling through the vegetation and connecting with a spiked branch of a tree, impaling it through the neck. It wriggles and writhes for a moment, blood gushing from neck and mouth alike, before suddenly going still.

  "Thanks," I call out. "Nearly had me..."

  His eyes, fully restored to their full might, glance about. "Don't thank me yet," he says, as more of the beasts close in.

  We fight for a little longer, pressing back to back once more, firing off into the darkness. A couple more get near enough to cause us concern, though we're alerted now to their ferocity and speed, quickly calculating their capabilities, agility, and movement. As in the arena in Neorome, I swiftly assess my enemy and configure a style to defeat them. Firing and slashing with my blade, and using short bursts of my Dasher speed, I take down several more before they decide we're not worth the trouble, and flee off into the darkness.