Fractured

by T. C. Edge

  "I thought better of you," Dozer says, shaking his head. Though, doing so with good humour.

  "Sorry, big man," says Marcus. "What's a guy to do..."

  Dozer lifts his face into an expression of disgust. "Well, come on then," he says, stepping towards the bars. "Take these and then I'll let you out."

  He moves towards the bars, reaching out with an open palm, two pills nestled inside it.

  I get ready to take them, but in my head, hear a voice calling from the depths.

  Delay, Brie, Zander calls out. Delay...

  I...what?

  Delay! I need to talk to you...

  I frown, hesitating a second as his voice fills my head. Then, falling back into an act, I begin squirming once more, pretending to be hit by another desperate wave to relieve myself immediately.

  "After," I say, panting the word out uncomfortably. "I'll take them after. I really have to go, Dozer!"

  The half-Brute puffs a little at my nickname for him. "I told you, I don't like that nickname," he grunts. "Why do you call him Bull and me Dozer? Makes me feel second best, that does!"

  "Sorry, sorry," I say, hopping from foot to foot. "He's just...bigger than you, is all..."

  "No," cuts in Marcus, noting the disgruntled frown falling over Dozer's eyes. "That's not what she means. She called him Bull because he puffs and pants a lot, that's all. You're clearly bigger, Dozer. Yeah, much bigger and stronger than him."

  His words are about as obviously false as you could get, but Dozer still warms to them. "Yeah, damn right I am," he says, puffing out his chest.

  I glance another look of thanks in Marcus's direction, before continuing into my act.

  "Come on, open the gate! Please! We'll miss our chance otherwise!" I call.

  Dozer shakes his head and huffs, before saying, "Go on then," and stepping forward to release me. He looks to Marcus as he does. "You want some fresh air, boy?"

  Marcus shakes his head, perhaps not wanting to confuse things. He can't know exactly what I'm up to, but has clearly realised that it's something.

  As the cell is opened, I quickly move towards the door, doing so gingerly as I keep up the charade. Dozer moves behind me, directing me down onto the opens plains. The lands around us are mostly flat, thought with shallow, wide hills, filled with areas of brush and scrub, deep enough to provide plenty of cover and privacy for someone wanting to relieve themselves. There are some trees nearby too, dotted around, with a thicket just ahead.

  I begin moving towards it, scanning as I go. I don't, of course, need to use the bathroom; that was merely a deception. In truth, I was simply motivated to confirm what Marcus told me. To look upon my grandfather and the Overseer, and see if my dark suspicions are correct.

  Yet now...now something else is driving me.

  Around us, the sun is beginning to set, drenching the lands in a warm and vibrant orange glow. It's a beautiful place, quite different to the regions around New Haven, the tones dustier and more earthy, the lands more expansive and vast. I hurry into the thicket, Dozer staying behind me and keeping close watch. He begins to give me a bit more room as I press towards a large oak tree, glancing back.

  "Some privacy, please," I say.

  He grunts again, turning sideways and looking in another direction. We're fairly close to the rear of the convoy right now, as far as I can see. Spread out across a large area, soldiers move around the plains, enjoying the short break, and the beautiful sunset, before they're forced back into their cramped carriages. He must realise that, were I to make a dash for it, I'd only get about twenty metres before someone would rush in and stop me. Here, there really is nowhere to go.

  I move behind the tree and out of sight, and pretend to shuffle out of my pants, making all the right noises as I close my eyes, draw my focus, and listen out for Zander's voice.

  Brother, I call. Brother, I'm here. What is it? What's happening?

  I see him ahead, within a world of white, blurred and fuzzy within the shroud. He's always like that with my powers subdued as they are, though grows clearer the more I narrow my focus.

  You can't feel it? he asks, calling from the white fog. You can't sense her?

  I shake my head. No, I call. Sense who?

  Kira. It's Kira, Brie. I...I can feel her presence. She's nearby. I...I think she's here to save you.

  A pulse of hope rushes through my body, spreading from my chest. Kira. She's here...

  Yes! And I doubt she's alone, calls Zander. I've been trying to get through to her, but I haven't been able to yet. I'll keep trying, sis. The next time we stop, she may have her chance.

  Chance, I say, my brow knitting together. To...get me out?

  Yes, of course. You and Marcus. Both of you! His face continues to clear, as he looks right at me. What is it? he asks. What's making you hesitate?

  Behind me, the voice of Dozer fills the air, grunting from out of sight. "You nearly done yet, girl. The convoy's packing back up..."

  I open my eyes, taking a second to return to the physical world, the colours and smells and sounds blooming once more to my senses. I glance across and see that most of the soldiers have returned to their carriages. I look to the rear, where the workers are ever stationed, their carriages packed particularly full.

  I've seen them a few times now, always led out in their groups, filthy and stinking, beaten and bruised. Yet they were the lucky ones. The ones not burned alive. But if I leave...

  I...I can't, I think, not shutting my eyes this time, not returning to the strange, spiritual realm in which I can look upon my brother. I can't do it.

  What do you mean, you can't? I hear him call, still able to hear me. You have to, Brie!

  Look at them, Zander, I say, staring across at the slaves. They remind me so much of those taken by Nestor, linked together in chains as they marched. The slaves Kira and I saved. Look at those poor people. I can't let them suffer for me. Kovas...he'll kill them all of I leave...

  He's lying, Brie! Zander shouts. He wouldn't go through with it.

  I can't take that risk, I say, shaking my head. I can't do it, brother. I can't have thar on my conscience too...

  "Girl, what is taking so long!" bellows Dozer, still out of sight. "Ten more seconds and I'm coming round there, finished or not!"

  "I...just a second," I call out. "Just one second..."

  Brie, Zander says, his voice softening. You realise this might be your only chance? You might not get another...

  I know, I whisper to him. I know, brother. But if Kira's here, that means she's not alone. And if she's not alone, then maybe she's brought an army with her. If they're bringing this war to the Prime's lands, then I'll do more good on the inside. I have no choice but to let them take me.

  It's...risky, Brie, I hear Zander say. We don't know what’s going to happen to you in there. I might not be able to communicate with you at all.

  But you'll be able to communicate with Kira, I say, nodding, convincing myself of my path. You can perceive what I can, and pass on that information. Even if we can't speak, then my being there will help.

  She'd need to be close, Zander says. I won't be able to cross the neural bridge unless Kira is nearby.

  Then tell her that, I say, my telepathic voice marching forward, determined. Tell her, Zander, that she isn't to try to break me out. Tell her to find a way to contact you. And you know, if they want to use my powers, then they have to give them back. How can they stop us speaking then, brother?

  I sense him nodding, and briefly shut my eyes. The white world comes back into view, Zander materialising before me. He's clearer now, no longer a shade or shadow, but a man, as he was, tall and strong. He steps forward, the muffled edges of his voice retreating, those intense Hawk-eyes of his bursting full of detail.

  I'll tell her, he says. And I'll be with you, no matter what.

  I smile at him and nod. No matter what, brother.

  And with that, I open my eyes once more, stand, and step back around the tree.
r />   Dozer lets out a puffing breath. "About time," he grunts, sounding hugely relieved. "Herald Kovas will have me flogged or worse if we don't get back there soon!"

  I look up to see that the final stragglers are now boarding the carriages. A way off, towards the front, I can see the faint form of Kovas standing outside his grand, personal transport. We've learned a little bit from Dozer about that. Apparently, all the personal carriages of the Heralds have lofty names. Kovas's one is called Worldshaker. Perses's transport, in which Amber also travelled, was known as Black Thunder.

  I wonder idly, as I begin moving quickly towards the prison carriage, who might be staying in it now.

  It's with a dull ache that I get my answer.

  Looking towards the head of the convoy, I see the colourful form of the Overseer, always so impossible to miss, gliding towards his own transport. And alongside him, dressed now in fine clothes, my grandfather walks, clean and healthy and striding along just fine, the two men returning from their languid, sunset stroll.

  I stop, just a moment, as they saunter towards the front of the convoy, seemingly without a care in the world. And as I watch, I have my dreadful suspicion confirmed, as my grandfather steps away from the Overseer's side, and climbs into a great, black carriage, its previous owner thought to be dead.

  He is back, then, I think, looking on, feeling a heavy throb of gloom inside.

  Director Cromwell has returned.

  21

  Kira

  We bump along gently in the darkness, all lights on our car turned off. A little way behind us, the second jeep is the same, driven by a gifted Hawk, as ours is, who can see just fine in the dark. Ahead, a few miles only now, we know the Olympian convoy to be. After three days of chasing, we have finally caught them up.

  "They have to stop soon," Max whispers, sitting up front with the driver, a former Neoroman champion by the name of Killian. Along with myself and Ares, there are two additional soldiers with us, as well as six more in the following car. It's safe to say that we are the A team here, the primary strike force if Ares gives the order to split.

  "How long's it been now, Killian?" Ares asks, the mighty Neoroman sitting beside me in the middle seats and taking up more than his fair share of the allotted space.

  "A little over eight hours, sir," the soldier says. "Would you like me to move a little closer?"

  Ares looks to me with a question in his eyes. It's the very same question I've been asked several times already.

  I draw a breath, and shake my head, a little frustrated. For the last few hours, I've had murmurings of Zander's voice in my head as we've followed behind the convoy, mere hints of his presence. But, nothing concrete, nothing I can work with. As far as I can work out, we're too far away, but there could be other factors involved too, such as being in this car, moving at this speed, and dealing with all the bumping and noise, all which are serving to distract me.

  I may be used to concentrating in the hectic arena of battle and war, but that's with my own powers, my own gifts. This is something different, something I don't quite understand. It isn't easy for me to manage it when, really, I don't know what I'm doing.

  "No luck, then?" asks Ares, still looking at me.

  "Getting closer might help," I say. "But I just don't know. It'll be easier when I'm not in this car, when I can be still and concentrate. Perhaps I'll be able to hear him then."

  It still seems a little farfetched to me to even be speaking like this. The idea of communicating with someone who's been dead for a year isn't easy to get my head around. Naturally, of course, it breeds a little skepticism among the others. They believe me, yes, but until I give them something concrete, something actionable that we can use, they will probably remain a little unconvinced.

  And, really, so will I.

  "Such conditions won't be possible until the Olympian army stops again," says Ares. "We will have a very narrow window to act, even if we can get ourselves into position. They only seem to stop for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. I'm not sure that will be enough for us to pinpoint Brie's location, and then break her out as well."

  "But if we have her location, Ares," says Max, "then perhaps that will be enough. If we can determine which carriage she is being transported in, we might be able to fashion a plan to break her free while the convoy is moving."

  "Possibly," Ares says, "but with great difficultly. We are a troop of a dozen only. They are an army of upwards of four thousand. This mission was predicated on stealth and the element of surprise, getting Brie out before the army could properly react. If we attempt to do this while they are moving, then we may have more than we can handle bearing down on us."

  "Then we wait," Max says. "If Kira can discover Brie's location during the next stop, we wait until the one after until making our move."

  "We'd have to trail them for another, I don't know, eight or ten hours for that," I say. "We've come a hell of a long way now. Who knows how close we are to the Fringe, or even Olympus. They might not stop again before they reach their city."

  "From what I can gauge from Perses's descriptions,, we are hastily approaching the southern border of the Fringe," Ares says. "We may even be upon their lands already. So, yes, what you're saying is quite true, Kira. In such a case, we would have little option but to try to break Brie out in transit. Or...abandon the mission altogether."

  I stare across at him with a frown. "Abandon the mission? We can't do that."

  "We may have to, Kira," Ares says steadily. "I will only undertake this mission if I believe it has a proper chance of success. If it is only likely to lead to our deaths, then we will have no choice but to seek an alternative."

  "The Neoroman army will be following, Kira," Max adds. "If we cannot get Brie out now, then we will have our chance once we siege the city."

  "We'll get her back, one way or another," Ares says, with a note of finality as he looks at me. I am not questioning his ruling here. I know that well enough by now. "But right now we need to focus on the immediate issue at hand." His eyes turn up to our driver. "Get closer, Killian," he says. "If they are to stop soon, we need to be ready to sneak in a little closer while they're taking a break. We cannot waste time trying to catch up."

  "Yes, sir," says Killian, pressing his foot down a little harder onto the accelerator. "How close would you like me to get?"

  "Stay far enough away so that any Bat among their rearguard cannot hear us approach. The sound of the moving convoy should help conceal us..."

  "We also need to stay out of view of their Hawks," I add. I turn my eyes around at the surrounding landscape. It's fairly open, which is problematic in that regard. However, the gentle undulations and hills do allow for some concealment, especially at range. "We should be able to get within a mile at least," I say.

  "I agree," says Ares. "Drive careful, Killian. If you can spot them, they may be able spot us. Use your judgement. That's why you're here."

  We press forward, closing the gap a little, as I attempt again to communicate with Zander. Shutting my eyes, and trying to block out all distractions, I simply await some sign from him, hoping to see him materialise within that strange, grey-white shroud as he did before. I don't fully know if it's this spectral realm that Perses spoke of - frankly, it seems odd that I'd be able to view or visit it myself - or simply another manifestation in which Zander's presence can appear. Brie has spoken of a cerebral realm to me as well in the past; perhaps it is more akin to that, a landscape within my own mind that Zander can now access, crossing the neural bridge that now appears to link my mind to Brie's.

  It...well, it's all a bit complicated for a simple warrior like me. For a woman who has spent her life believing what her eyes and ears and nose perceive, this talk of other realms - of the mind and of the spirit - is quite overwhelming. It gives me some additional insight into the sorts of things that powerful telepaths can do, how they truly do exist on a different plane to everyone else. I've just been lucky enough to have several of them on my si
de over the years; Zander, Brie, Secretary Burns, and even Dom.

  Yet, all it takes is one.

  One who goes too far, who becomes too powerful, and an entire people can suffer.

  Empress Vesper proved that, and the Prime, though harbouring a slightly different form of mind-manipulation, are proving it too.

  And now, under their guidance and coercion, Brie might be next...

  I sigh as I sit there, losing my focus a little as my mind wanders. And just as I do, somewhere in the depths, a voice echoes in the distance.

  Kira...

  I feel my chest seizing up, startled by the sudden voice. I open my eyes on instinct and the car comes back into view.

  "Zander," I say out loud, panting the word out.

  Ares looks right across at me. "You spoke with him?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

  I shake my head, my brows knitted tight. "I...I don't know," I say.

  I shut my eyes again, trying to re-engage. I still don't know how this works. I have to actively think the words I want to say, calling them into the depths of my own mind.

  Zander, I say, trying to shout them as much as I can. Zander, is that you?!

  K-Kira...comes a weak voice, far off in the distance. You h...to...clo....Kira...

  What? I strain my mind to hear him, his words coming out broken and muddled. I can't hear you, Zander. What are you saying?

  They...stoppi...get...cl..er...

  His voice trails off again, overtaken by the sound of the jeep as it bounces along the trackless plains. We hit a bump, jerking my head backwards. I open my eyes up again, cursing as I do.

  I find Ares looking at me intently. Max is doing the same from the front seat. The soldiers behind - Cassius and Antonius - probably are as well.

  "I can hardly hear him," I say, finding myself almost fatigued by the effort. "I think he's saying we need to get closer. That they're...stopping."

  "Well it's about time," Max says. "Should we stop and pursue on foot?"

  He turns to Ares with the question. The imperious Commander of the Imperial Guard considers it for a brief second before nodding. "Stop the jeep, Killian," he commands.