by T. C. Edge
“Adryan, I’d like you to fetch Rhoth for me. There’s something I need to ask him.”
“Right away, Lady Orlando.”
I hear some shuffling in the background, followed by a period of silence. A minute later, more movement, and then the gruff, growling voice of Rhoth filters down the line.
“Please tell me, Lady Orlando, that this is about my war. You made promises. I will see them kept.”
“I did, and I will keep them all. But in good time, Rhoth. We are assembling some men to come and aid you soon, I assure you. However, right now I merely have a question.”
“Hmmmm, OK,” he grunts. “What is it you want to know?”
“A few hours ago, Zander and Brie encountered some strange soldiers in the streets of Outer Haven,” Lady Orlando explains. “I’ll let Zander describe them to you.”
My brother steps forward and leans over the communicator, setting his hands to the table. He sets about giving a brief description of the men and the various powers they employed. I listen carefully, nodding along.
Then, finishing, Lady Orlando speaks again.
“Does that ring a bell for you, Rhoth. You’ve met many people from far and wide. Anything like what Zander described.”
Everyone listens silently, the line heavy with the sound of Rhoth’s pensive breathing.
Then, he says: “I’ve met and heard of many people, as you say. But…nothing like that. The powers, I know of such powers. We call them Elementals, people who can use the elements like that. But, what they wore, no. I don’t know anything like that.”
“And do you have any opinion on why they might take Kira, and leave Zander and Brie?”
“This is not for me to say,” he mutters. “I do not know this Kira.”
A feel a frustration building in the room. No one seems to have any answers, beyond the fact that this doesn’t sound like the doing of Director Cromwell. But if not him, then who?
“Fine. Thank you, Rhoth, for your help,” says Lady Orlando courteously. “We will update you soon on the promises we made. Please, hold the fort at the church for now.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere until I get what I want. I have heard whisperings from my people in the western woods, though, that may interest you.”
“Oh?”
All our ears prick up.
“Yes, a scout of mine came to us a couple of hours ago. Maybe you know this already, maybe not, but these men of your Director Cromwell are flooding the woodlands around this, um, facility of his…what do you people call it?”
“The REEF,” says Zander.
“Yes, that’s it, boy. The stink of death is spreading from that place. And gunshots have been heard in the area.”
“Our scouts,” suggests Zander, looking to Lady Orlando and Beckett. “Cromwell’s Stalkers are taking them out before they can get too close.”
“Then he’s definitely there,” says Beckett. “It’s as we thought.”
“He remains alive, does he?” comes Rhoth’s voice on the line again. “It sounds like you’ve merely cornered and enraged the beast. I know just what happens next…”
“Yes, thank you for your input, Rhoth,” says Lady Orlando. “If you hear anything else from your hunters, please do let us know.”
She shuts off the line, severing the link to the church.
There’s another short lull, before I myself break it.
“So, what do we do about Kira then?” I ask.
“There’s nothing we can do,” says Beckett, shaking his head. “We don’t know who took her, why, or where. She’s gone.”
He answers in his typically curt and unsympathetic way, yet behind his eyes I know that he’s hurting. My brother, even more so, seems slightly broken by it all, the toll of losing so many soldiers and friends beginning to weigh heavy on his youthful soldiers.
I still look at him and wonder sometimes how we’re twins. He seems so much older than his callow years, a natural leader of men, a warrior to inspire those who fight under and alongside him. But I saw it when Burton was killed by the trickery of Agent Woolf, saw the fury on his face, the hatred in his eyes.
Burton was clearly a good friend, more than just a soldier. And now, I’m seeing it once more, that pain beginning to bubble up and burst on his face, the loss of Kira more keenly felt to him than any.
He cares about her deeply, whether as a friend or more I don’t know. He’s trained with her, fought with her, bled with her. They’ve been key cogs in the rebel machine for years, and now, like many others, she’s been taken away.
And the more that happens, the more the machine will begin to break down and falter.
195
The meeting goes on for a little while longer, the focus turning once more to Cromwell.
Kira’s fate, it seems, is out of our hands, and until we hear something, anything, on her whereabouts or those who took her, there seems little point in further speculation.
Nevertheless, the loss will be keenly felt. Even over the last couple of days, I’ve quickly taken to her, not only for her powers and gifts as a soldier and spy, but her jovial spirit and the smile she takes with her into every battle.
For others, the loss will be far worse. Zander, perhaps most of all, will feel that particular sting, while Beckett, Lady Orlando, and any other high profile leader among the rebel cause, will miss her greatly as an asset, as well as a friend.
It says a lot that I’m already beginning to assume the worst, and that we won’t ever see her again. The manner in which she was taken, and the powers of those who snatched her away, suggest that we’re dealing with a formidable force. To take out her and my brother so quickly, and with such ease, and all the while doing so without causing them serious harm, is quite, well, frightening.
Yet it’s the mystery of it all that gets me the most. No one knows who these people are. No one knows where they came from. No one knows just what they want with her.
It’s the sort of thing that grates on someone like me, always hunting for the truth. Right now, the last thing we need is some formidable foreign force appearing from nowhere and wreaking any further havoc.
But, as I say, it’s all speculation, and as Alfred works away in his corner, gathering intel from our many teams across Outer Haven, it seems that no one has seen anyone matching the description of Kira’s kidnappers.
They came, they saw, and they conquered us in a flash. And now, they’ve disappeared like shadows in a black night.
Gone. Vanished. Never to be seen again.
It’s mystifying.
So, on the meeting goes, with Cromwell the focus of the discussion. Yet for the first little while, my mind continues to chatter away at me about Kira, trying to come to some reasonable conclusion as to what happened.
In the end, I wonder whether she was taken for information. Whether, perhaps, there’s someone else out there, other than Cromwell, who we may have to contend with. It seems the only rational explanation…
“Brie…”
I’m drawn back into the conversation by Lady Orlando, withdrawing from my thoughts and back into the room.
I find all sets of eyes on me.
“Yes…Lady Orlando.”
“You seem a bit distracted,” she says. “Maybe you should go and get some rest.” Her eyes lift to Tess, still up against the wall and trying to remain invisible. “Tess, is it?”
Tess nods.
“I don’t think we’ve met yet, have we?” asks Lady Orlando.
Tess shakes her head.
She seems rather daunted by the rebel leader, so famous as she now is.
“Would you escort Brie back to her room please.”
“Um, of course…” says Tess.
“I’m OK,” I argue. “I don’t need to rest.”
“Your eyes say otherwise, Brie,” says Lady Orlando. “You took a nasty hit to the head. You need some time to recover. There’s nothing you’re going to miss here.”
“But…what about what you said to R
hoth, sending soldiers to him. What about our people in the mines? What about Cromwell? What’s the next step?”
I feel like I’ve probably missed a few updates whilst embroiled in my own thoughts. It’s possible all these questions have already been posed and discussed, if not now then before I arrived.
“We have yet to decide,” says Lady Orlando. “At the moment, the priority is making sure we cater to all those in Outer Haven who wish to come here. Until Artemis shows his hand or attempts contact, that is our focus.”
“It’s a period of consolidation, Brie,” says Beckett. “That’s what happens when you occupy a city. You take it, then you make sure you hold it. We cannot consider making any attempts to strike at the REEF now without suffering heavy losses.”
“And what about the people in the mines? And Rhoth?” I ask.
“I didn’t lie when I told Rhoth we are gathering a force for him,” says Lady Orlando. “Our numbers are swelling rapidly, and we’ll be able to keep up our end of the bargain soon. And regarding our people in the mines, Pearson remains vigilant. They are safe there for now, and any attempt Artemis might make to find or attack them would be out of character for him. He thinks too logically to commission such an act. I know him far better than any of you, as you are all now aware. I don’t believe he will see petty revenge as a priority, especially if it won’t actually weaken our cause...”
I glance at Rycard, itching to speak. I suspect that he’d love to arrange an escort party to go to the mines. His thoughts, despite the heavy workload and responsibility now resting on his shoulders, will rarely stray too far from Sophie and Maddox.
Lady Orlando takes a breath, before concluding: “In fact,” she says, “I expect Artemis to make contact soon and arrange a meeting, which is something we are also actively pursuing. That is the likely course of action he’ll take. His plot has been foiled. He may have no choice but to concede some level of defeat, and negotiate a peace.”
“Peace?” I say, recoiling. “You really believe he’ll sue for peace?”
I see doubt throughout the room. Rycard, Freya, even Beckett and Zander appear unconvinced by such an assertion. Lady Orlando isn’t blind to their eyes. She looks around the space, from one face to the next.
“Artemis was, and remains, committed to seeing his people prosper,” she asserts. “We have struck a clinical and fatal blow right to the heart of that plan. Now, what does he have left? Only slaves and agents. What remain of his true people are here, within these walls with us. Further conflict will only lead to further loss of life. I’m not sure that benefits anyone.”
“You seem to have more faith in him than I do,” I huff. “I guess, after the things I’ve seen, I just expect him to try to destroy us all.”
My instincts tell me the others in the room feel the same. If we have truly destroyed his plan to spread his Savants across these lands, then what does he have left?
“The desire to destroy for vengeful reasons is an emotional, human response,” says Lady Orlando coolly. “Does Artemis possess such a capacity? Will he seek to kill us all, even if it means that all traces of his true purpose are erased? These are questions that we cannot yet answer, not conclusively. I admit that my opinion on the matter is merely my own, and that while I know Artemis well, I haven’t seen him for many years. In that time, he may have changed. Yes, he has done awful, awful things to the people of this city, but he’s done so for the express purpose of serving his people, serving the Savants. If that remains his priority, peace may be his only option.”
She talks with her usual calm fluidity, her words largely convincing. In the end, only time will tell what will happen. Yet, however unemotional Cromwell appears to be, I’ve seen that flicker of rage across his face. I know that there’s some part of him that feels anger, hatred, a part that will be seething and stewing right now.
I suppose I may just be projecting onto him how I might feel or react. If it were me, what would I do? Would I strive to gain vengeance on those who wronged me, who destroyed thousands of my people? Or would I merely agree to shake hands and settle, confine myself to a lesser life and let the villains who ruined everything have it their way.
Honestly, I just don’t know.
“And, what about you, Lady Orlando?” I say. “After everything Cromwell’s done, will you just let him have peace?”
I put her on the spot. All eyes swing to the desk, the little old Lady of the Nameless sitting upright and firm, her posture perfect despite her age.
I see her eyes darken, a shadow spreading through them.
“I wish Artemis dead,” she states unequivocally. “He has done reprehensible things, unforgivable things. I don’t wish for peace with that man. But, like him, we may not have a choice either.”
The thought repels me. And while we’ve thwarted his plot, and taken the city, and achieved more than most of us can conceivably have expected, it’s not enough.
Because while he still lives, I honestly don’t see how there can ever be a peace.
196
Tess accompanies me back to my room, just as requested by the rebel leader.
By the time I go, however, the meeting is all but drawing to a close anyway. Zander, like me, appears exhausted after the day’s exertions. And the likes of Beckett and Freya too, both of whom commanded other kill squads in Outer Haven, could probably do with a good long rest.
Rycard, meanwhile, has had his hands full managing the new City Guards, their numbers expanding by the hour. According to Tess, who was summoned from Compton’s Hall to look over me when I was brought back, the streets are now swimming with them, as well as the huge numbers of Outer Haveners pouring through the gates.
The half-Hawk, therefore, has plenty to be getting on with.
As we reach my room, my eyes fall to Kira’s bed, tucked up in one corner. Our brief spell rooming together has been very much cut short, a hole left by her absence.
“Is all that true?” asks Tess as I stare at the empty, unmade mattress on the floor. “All that about these Elementals I mean. That’s what that guy called them down the line, right?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “It’s all true, Tess.”
“Sounds like the kid you told us about last night. You know, that fire-manipulator who destroyed his village. What did you say his name was?”
“West…”
“Yeah, West. You think it’s related somehow? Maybe these soldiers you saw came from there?”
The thought’s an interesting one. I turn to her, nodding and thinking.
“Maybe. I mean, the soldiers looked nothing like the people I saw in West’s head, the ones who destroyed his village. But then…that was years ago. Maybe they’ve changed. Or maybe there are others…I don’t know.”
I feel completely drained, and move towards the desk in the room. It was, of course, previously an office, and so the desk remains, tucked up against the wall. I slide on top of it, my legs dangling off, my posture sunken and weary.
Tess moves over and takes a seat beside me. We both look at Kira’s bed.
“I could stay with you if you want,” she says softly. “It’ll be like old times.”
She lays a consoling arm over my back. A smile hovers weakly on my lips, my head sinking towards her shoulder.
“Won’t Mrs Carmichael be expecting you back?” I sigh, my eyes growing heavy.
She tightens her grip.
“It’s OK. She knows I came here to help when you were brought back from Outer Haven. I don’t have to go anywhere.”
“How come they didn’t ask her to come? I would have thought they’d ask her.”
“They did, But…she was busy with Brandon.”
“Brandon? What do you mean?” I ask, lifting my head.
“Oh, he’s been let out of his holding cell. She’s trying to reintegrate him, you know, take him back under her wing.”
I let out a little puff of air.
“Her charity never ceases to amaze me. Do the other kids know yet? A
bout…Nate?”
She shakes her head.
“They just know he’s not around. I guess they’re assuming the worst.” Her voice turns to a little growl, and she adds: “Bran’s got a lot of making up to do.”
“I guess,” I murmur, my head fading back towards her shoulder. “He seemed pretty cut up about it all. I don’t know, it wasn’t really his fault. He’s just a kid who got caught up in something he didn’t expect.”
“Yeah, maybe. But he left the academy of his own accord to go looting. He might have been taken in by that gang, but before that he went off looking for trouble. Some kids are just bad eggs, Brie. Some kids are just rotten.”
A breath rolls out of my lungs.
“Maybe…” I whisper.
My posture continues to sink, my head pressing harder against her as she grips more firmly around my back. It’s a comforting squeeze, and I feel a fresh sense of grief approaching, the losses of old friends and new taking their toll as my eyes linger once more on Kira’s empty mattress.
Tess’s presence, however, is soothing. We sit for a little while in silence, her fingers running through my unwashed hair, my mind busy with the recent memories of what I’ve seen and heard and done.
I feel like I’m about to break down, as if Tess being here is weakening me, opening me up and laying my emotions bare.
All it will take is for her to whisper: “It’ll be OK,” and the dam will probably burst open, the tears spreading forth.
But she doesn’t speak, and neither do I. We both just sit in that heavy quiet, tucked up next to each other, sitting in this room we now may share together, something we’ve done for many years.
But not like this. Neither of us are the same as we were. There are things in my head that, even with my gifts, I won’t be able to erase or forget. Things that will appear in my darkest dreams and assault me when I’m feeling low. Things that will crawl up from the recesses, from the deepest pits in my mind, and continue to batter and wear me down.
It’s something I have to accept. Losing people you love and care about will eat away at you. Killing people will do the same. Bundle all of that up together, and you know that life will never be the same again. That it will never be easy. That you may never find peace or happiness after the things you’ve been forced to endure.
