Fractured

by T. C. Edge

  "Ah, so Adryan told you of our upcoming nuptials, did he?" I ask. Adryan was, after all, the only one I'd mentioned it to.

  "No, it was the Emperor himself who told us the news," Burns says. "Congratulations, Kira."

  He smiles and steps in to present me a kiss on the cheek. The others offer a similar sentiment, passing on their best for Dom and my engagement. I don't much like the attention, to be honest, so quickly turn our focus back to our task.

  "Perhaps, now that we're on the offensive," I say, "we'll be more likely to secure the support we need from Neorome." I look to Ares who, I know, has been cooperating with Dom over that very purpose.

  "It's certainly possible, now that the odds have changed," he says. "Sending troops to protect a city under siege is very different to sending them to take part in a more offensive strategy. If we are to march north, we will require reinforcements. This threat is one we must all face together. It is my hope that the council will realise this."

  So, it remains ambiguous, I think. Clearly, no ironclad words of support have been provided just yet.

  "OK," Burns goes on, concluding the meeting. "We can take this up back in the city." He looks to Ares and Hendricks, set to take on the task of collecting and burying the dead slaves. Perses, otherwise keeping to himself, moves to Ares to offer his support. I see shame in his face as he makes the request. Whatever has happened with him, it's clear enough that this isn't something he condones.

  As the others return to the jeeps, I decide to let Amber and Burns take over the responsibility of managing Jude. He'll wake up before too long, I know, and when he does, I'd rather not deal with the fallout. It'll only nudge at my lingering guilt about leaving those poor people behind to fend for themselves, rustling it from the bushes like a hound hunting quail. I'd rather not face it. Other priorities, and all that...

  Instead, I head back over to Max, to find him standing silently near the vehicles, staring vacantly out across the plains and towards the shadow of the city in the distance. I move to his side, wondering if his thoughts still dwell on his daughter. On his duty to find help for his old people. A duty that, now, appears to have faded away, only stirring temporarily, but never fully reawakening.

  "We should get back to Dom," I say to him, drawing his focus back to me. "He needs to hear about all this."

  He nods, staring forwards.

  "We could take a jeep or run. Any energy left in those legs?"

  "Plenty," he says. His hands bunch by his sides. "I'm just getting warmed up."

  And with that, we rush across the plains, setting our sights back on the city.

  16

  Kira

  "You're late," says Dom, looking across his office as I step inside. "Time-keeping has never been your strongest suit, darling."

  I kiss his grinning lips as he takes me into a hug. Behind, Max stands to attention at the door to the office, the comms centre bustling and busy beyond.

  "How was it, Max?" Dom asks, pulling away from me and looking to his chief protector.

  "A walk in the woods, nothing more, Emperor Domitian," Max says. "Long, but simple enough. Encountered a few Olympian soldiers but they weren't a problem."

  Dom raises an eye. "So what was?" he asks. "Something didn't go right, I can see it on your face." He pulls back and looks into my eyes. "Kira?"

  "Nothing to worry about," I say. "We got our target, but had to leave the rest behind. And good thing we did too."

  "Oh? How so?" asks Dom.

  "You must have heard on the radio by now," I say. "The Olympian army has gone."

  "I heard," nods Dom. "And..."

  "And, we're going to go after them," I say. "If we'd taken days to get back, which we would have if we'd brought all those deserters along with us, we'd have missed the party." I look to Max. "We made the right choice," I add, further trying to convince myself of that fact.

  "Of course, Lady Kira," he says.

  "Right. Well, I hear they're calling a meeting soon?" says Dom.

  "Yeah, shouldn't be long," I say. "Ares and Hendricks are just collecting and burying a few dead slaves. I'll er, I'll get into that in a second. Once they're back, we'll be gathering to discuss what to do."

  "That gives us a bit of time," Dom says. "Come in, Max, and give me your debrief. Oh, and call Merk in too," he says, gesturing towards the old man, skulking around the comms room and, most likely, sticking his nose in where it's not wanted. "He's keen to hear what you too saw out there. You know Merk. His imagination and quest for knowledge is insatiable."

  Max nods and steps out, gathers Merk up, and leads him towards the office. I take the brief opportunity to enjoy my future husband's lips for a little longer before they arrive.

  Once they do, we quickly set into our debrief, and hear of what's been happening in our absence. Mostly, it's been a fairly slow couple of days back here by the sounds of things, until now at least. Negotiations with Neorome are, as Ares made it appear, ongoing, though looking positive. With this new turn of events, Dom assures me, we'll see a favourable result. Beyond that, and the swift integration of Amber and Perses - though not, as yet, Elian - little of note has happened.

  "I did hear one thing that might interest you, however," Dom finishes. Outside, I can see Commander Hendricks reappearing now. He turns his eyes towards us and begins stepping our way.

  "What?" I ask.

  "Something about Perses," Dom says. "Rumours of a spectral realm of some kind, a place he visits when he enters into his periods of suspended animation, somewhere between life and death." He glances to the door as Commander Hendricks arrives, and waves for Merk to let him in. "Apparently," he says quietly, leaning in, "Perses met your old friend Zander in this so-called spectral realm. I know, it sounds farfetched," he smiles, seeing the expression on my face. "But, I thought you'd find it interesting nonetheless. If you get a chance, you might want to talk to him about it."

  I lean back, pondering the implications of it all, as Merk opens the door and allows Hendricks in.

  "Emperor Domitian," he says, "the President has called for your presence in the war room. Kira, Commander Maximus, you're requested too." He looks to Merk, standing hopeful. "Oh, sorry, um, Mark, was it?"

  "Merk," croaks the old man.

  "OK. Merk," frowns Hendricks, evidently finding the name rather unusual. "I, well, best you sit this one out."

  I see Dom smiling at the interaction. As if Merk would expect to be invited to such a thing.

  We move off, heading for the large boardroom, located just off the sprawling command centre. As we step inside, we find almost everyone already in attendance. The President, at the head of the large, slightly curved table, Adryan down the left side, with Rycard right there too. Ares is also present, along with Perses, whom I look upon with a keen interest now, even more so than before.

  We take our seats along one side, Dom in the centre alongside myself, with Max and Ares on either flank. Opposite, Hendricks takes his seat alongside Rycard and Adryan, both of whom I share a look and quick word of greeting with as we sit. Adryan, in particular, appears to be in slightly better spirits than when I saw him last. I hope that my pep talk had something to do with that. It's possible, too, that Dom has found the time to speak with him as well.

  "Welcome, welcome," says the President as we settle in. "And welcome back, specifically, Kira and Maximus. I hear your mission went well. I find myself entirely unsurprised."

  "Thank you, President Orlando," I say. "We did what Amber requested." I look around. "Is she...not coming too?"

  "She's on her way," the President says. "Leyton is just fetching her now."

  A brief silence falls as the incumbents share polite and yet marginally uncomfortable looks. Most of the people here know each other reasonably well by now, though primarily in a professional sense. Small talk, it would appear, isn't something anyone's going to tolerate.

  Before the wait becomes unbearable, the door opens once more. I sense a collective sigh of relief as Secre
tary Burns steps in, trailing a rather meek looking Amber. He guides her to a seat between himself, at the foot of the table, and Perses, introducing her as he does so.

  "You all know Amber, whether personally or by reputation," he says. "She has insights that may prove useful."

  The members of the room pass along smiles and welcoming nods. Then, finally, the meeting gets under way.

  Starting, the President sets her sights upon Dom. Sitting upright in her chair, she looks to him with a question, one I think everyone in attendance is keen to hear clarified.

  "Emperor Domitian," she says. "What is the current state of affairs in Neorome? I hear you've made some progress."

  I sense she probably already knows, though will have been kept busy by her work with Amber and Perses. It's more an invitation, I suppose, for Dom to update the room.

  He does so with his usual alacrity, standing to his feet in his warm red robes, smiling upon the small gathering before he speaks. "Progress, yes," he says smoothly. "Emperor Lucius has been working hard to secure more men. He has managed to bend enough of the senate to our cause. I believe this news of the Olympian retreat will further aid in his attempts to sway Senator Tiberius."

  "Excellent news," the President says. "Do we have any idea of numbers, or a possible timescale?"

  "Not as of yet," Dom says. "I believe they are gathering now to discuss these new developments. I'm hoping it will be the final straw in forcing Senator Tiberius's hand. To continue to deny support now would present him as a coward. That isn't something a Neoroman, even a career politician, can stomach."

  "And if it turns out as you say?" asks the President, pressing for a little more detail.

  "Then our forces could be assembled within a day or two. Then they'd have to get here. So, another week, perhaps."

  "Then ten days?" says the President, summing up.

  "Roughly," nods Dom.

  My brows pinch at the figure. "It's too long," I say, my hands resting on the table, fingers gripped together. "The Olympians will be halfway back home by then. We can't give them that much of a head start."

  I look to the President, who turns her eyes to Herald Perses. He must have drawn her attention somehow. "Yes, Perses," she says. "You have something to say?"

  "I do, Madam President," he says, presenting his voice to certain members here, including me, for the first time. It's deep, resounding, though currently drawn back. He looks and sounds, in fact, very similar to Ares, tall and broad and grimly handsome in his own way, though currently de-powered as a necessary precaution.

  He stands slowly to his feet, and turns his eyes with some authority around the room. It is immediately obvious, even if I didn't know it already, that he is a very experienced and capable leader. He portrays a command and natural charisma that someone like Kovas, from my limited experience of the man, doesn't appear to possess.

  "It may," he starts, speaking in a deliberate tone, "take the Olympian army less time to get home. They are a sleeker outfit now given their losses, and the route has already been carved and travelled. It took us three weeks to get here, but the delay was largely caused by the circumstances we faced, such as having to forge large parts of the route ourselves, clearing away debris and other such obstacles in our path as we went." He draws a breath before continuing. "Travelling to war is also different to retreating from it," he goes on. "The army will not need to rest so much, or be in a fit state to fight when they arrive. Nor will they be concerned about attacks, as we were when we drew closer to this city, or have to consider strategy during the approach." He takes a further breath and looks around the room. "They will travel light, and fast," he says. "It will not take them so long."

  "So what are you saying, Herald Perses?" asks the President. "How long might it take them?"

  "Half that, at the very most," he says, after a short pause. "However, I wouldn't be surprised if they managed it in less than a week."

  "Less than a week?" I say, standing to my feet, and turning my eyes right on the President. "We can't wait," I say breathily. "They'd be back home before the reinforcements even get here!"

  "How many men do you currently have?" I turn to find that it is Perses again, his question open to anyone who might answer.

  "Not enough," says Burns, taking the floor. "At least, not enough to offer an active siege. We were always outnumbered by your forces, Perses. Your soldiers suffered more greatly than ours, but we are still significantly behind in sheer volume of fighting men. And I assume you have your own reinforcements back in Olympus?"

  "We left soldiers there in the city, yes," Perses says, "and protecting our borders. The army that marched here was only a portion of our available forces. A large portion, yes, but..."

  "How large?" cuts in Hendricks. "We need specifics, Perses. If you're truly committed to helping us make a change in your lands, then you can't give us simple platitudes."

  It's a fair concern and query as far as I see it. Glenn Hendricks is a naturally distrusting man. The speed at which the former leader of the Olympian forces has turned to our side, in part at least, must be cause for some suspicion.

  "You're right, Commander Hendricks," he agrees. "Of course you need specifics." He takes a pause and scans the room. "Half," he says. "Our numbers here amounted to half of our available soldiers."

  Hendricks's eyes widen. "Half? But you came here with five thousand men! You're saying your army is ten thousand strong? We cannot deal with those numbers," he says, looking to Burns. "We simply don't have the strength."

  Burns's reaction is a little more calm. He turns things around, considering the concept of quality verses quantity. "We learned, Perses,' he says, "that many of your fighting men here were inexperienced. Is that true?"

  Perses, now sitting, still amounts to a mighty figure, particularly when placed beside the rather more diminutive form of Amber. "Yes, it is true," his voice rumbles. "I would say that most of our army here hadn't seen conflict of this sort before. Many were straight out of the academy. They had been prepared for war, but hadn't yet experienced it."

  "And I can therefore suppose that the remaining five thousand that you left behind are similarly inexperienced?" queries Burns.

  "That would be accurate," Perses confirms, showing a great willingness to speak plainly about his own people's capabilities. "Their commanders have seen conflict, but that isn't true of most of the men."

  Burns turns to look at Ares. "You reported that the bulk of the Olympian army wasn't a match for your Neoroman troops," he says.

  Ares nods. "Yes, Secretary Burns," comes his own resounding voice, though carrying a slightly more exotic tone than Perses's. "However, we have some of the finest Neoroman troops here with us. They would outmatch most opponents, even those considered elite."

  "Any reinforcements we get from Neorome," adds Dom, "will not be quite so formidable, at least not in single combat. The Imperial Guards we have here are some of the finest gladiators and even champions Neorome has produced. The standing army isn't the same. Man for man, they aren't as powerful, though as a collective unit, they are extremely potent."

  "And what is the size of your army, Emperor Domitian?" President Orlando asks.

  Dom, perhaps not entirely sure of the number, looks to Max for clarification.

  "Our standing army," Max says in his clear-cut, but direct manner, "is roughly the same as what Herald Perses has said. We currently have a little over ten thousand soldiers in service, sir, situated around our borders and engaged in fighting elsewhere."

  "And how many might be sent to aid us in this struggle?" the President asks.

  Dom's answer is rather more opaque. "I will not know until confirmation is provided from Neorome," he says. "However, if we are to engage in an active siege against Olympus, then we'll require a number in the thousands. I proposed such a number after initially hearing of the attack on this city. The senate was split, yet may now be more amenable. We shall see."

  "Well, we wouldn't be able to manage an
y proper assault without them," Commander Hendricks asserts with some conviction. "Our forces have been weakened, and many are the same as the Olympians, with little to no experience to speak of. We have been relying hugely on Ares and his men, as well as Colonel Hatcher's Stalkers. Without them, my City Guards, and the Nameless troops and mercenaries, have little hope of sieging a city of the scale of Olympus, let along fighting an army of that size."

  Once more, with a gentle shift of his body, I find my attention drawn towards Perses. He holds the stage well as he prepares to speak again, his insight into the Olympian military of great interest to us all. If, of course, he is telling the truth, and not merely misdirecting us. It seems unlikely, but it's certainly possible that that's the case. After all, though he appears to want to help us, he won't want to see the innocent lives of his countrymen lost. It is the Prime whom we shall target, along with anyone who remain steadfastly loyal to their leadership.

  "A siege of Olympus," Perses starts, "may be extremely difficult to achieve." His eyes turn to myself and Dom, and the two commanders to our flanks. "Even with thousands of your troops, Emperor Domitian, the city will be hard to penetrate and subdue. None of you here have been to Olympus. It is incredibly well protected, and surrounded by a hostile, and very open landscape of desert tundra. The walls are bordered by a wide, deep moat, and are far larger, and thicker, than those you have here. There is no realistic way in other than through one of the main gates, only accessible by drawbridges. There are no underground passages, such as you have here. It is very much a fortress, within which the people can survive for some time if they need to."

  A silence follows the description, and revelation. It is broken by the President, seeking a second opinion.

  "Amber," she says softly, looking to the as-yet silent young girl. "Is this your experience of the place? You have only recently looked upon Olympus, as you have our humble city here. Tell me, what is your gut feeling? Do you agree with Perses's words?"