by T. C. Edge
“Thank you,” I whisper.
A warm smile, natural and true, builds on Commander Burns’ otherwise weary face. His eyes change shape for a just a moment, his exhaustion fading.
“I can see how much it means to you,” he says. “It’s a thing that some Savants feel deep down, right at their core. None of us knew our parents. Most don’t care. Some do. I can relate, in part, to this longing you have, Brie. It has shaped you into this girl, this woman, who stands at the centre of this struggle. At least you can say that; that your parents’ death paved this path for you. That their ends helped determine a course that is leading you to do great things, as it has your brother. In the end, their sacrifice won’t be in vain. You will help see this nation restored, and your parents can have no greater legacy than that.”
I stay silent as he speaks and have no words when he stops. I merely look at him with soft, wet eyes, my fingers gripping the dulled edges of the card.
His voice once more stirs me from my stupor.
“Now go, Brie. I must rest. And you have work to do. Good luck.”
He doesn’t know of my orders to visit Rhoth with my brother beyond the city. We never told him about that. Yet, he knows that I’m embroiled in this now beyond escape. That the coming hours and days will continue to stretch me, to demand my time and attention until all priorities have been met and there’s time for rest.
And that’s one thing I’m coming to realise – rest is a luxury now, and the time it eats up is at a premium. We do it to recharge and nothing more.
Too much demands our attention to overindulge in such things.
214
The evening passes quickly.
After updating Lady Orlando on our meeting with Burns, my brother and I split apart with the promise to meet the following morning at first light down in the atrium. He takes his leave, sweeping off with a fleetness of foot to suggest his work isn’t quite done for the day.
Mine is.
I choose not to engage with my friends that evening, despite having a bit of time to myself. I’m well aware that a visit to Compton’s Hall will bring a tirade of questioning along with it, and I don’t have the energy right now to deal with such things.
So, I retreat to the safety of my room instead, knowing that only Tess might come to join me. It appears she’s been given some access to the HQ, authorised to choose between staying in my room and sticking with the kids in Compton’s Hall not too far down the street.
I’m not surprised when the door knocks and she enters. She finds me sitting on my pallet, back against the wall, lost in thought as the events and discoveries of the day play out in my mind.
“I heard about the meeting,” she says, cruising in. She’s got that look in her eye that suggests she’s keen on mining for information. “It’s all true, right? There’s a ceasefire?”
I nod wearily and she moves in towards the desk, hopping onto the shiny metal surface and letting out a bottled up gush of air, as if she’s finally got full confirmation that she can relax.
“That’s great news,” she says. “So, the war’s over?”
“Not quite.”
Her face discards the frame of relaxation and works up one of worry.
“What does that mean?” she asks, eyes pinching.
“Just that…I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” I say, trying to remain as cryptic as possible. But, I’ve let too much out already. As my best friend, she’s quite adept at reading between the lines and picking up on any silent cues I give off.
She knows something’s up. Something very serious.
“So…what’s happening then?”
The earnestness of her face, suddenly flush with a childlike innocence, tries to draw the truth from me. In all honesty, I’ve grown fed up with having to lie to people I care about, but it’s a trend I’m forced to continue for now.
“Oh, just…I doubt this peace will last. I can’t really speak about it, Tess.”
“Right.”
“I want to, I do. But, I…can’t.”
“No, it’s fine, Brie. Probably best I don’t know anyway, right.” She offers an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, maybe. I’m, um, going back outside the city tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be able to tell you more after that…”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Going outside the city right now?” she cuts in.
“I’m not going far. Just to the church to speak with Rhoth. And, I’ll have Zander with me so I’m sure we’ll be fine. Oh, and I forgot to mention, Drum’s coming home.”
“What?! Drum’s coming here?!”
“Yup. Part of the bargain we struck with Cromwell. He was pretty much threatening us saying he had a load of Stalkers near the mines. He didn’t say it in so many words, but the suggestion was clear.”
“That he’d kill them all?”
I nod.
“So what happened?” continues Tess.
“Lady Orlando struck up a deal. Told Cromwell to order his Stalkers to escort our people back here.”
“So, sounds like he’s serious about settling things? If he’s willing to help bring our own people home?”
“Yeah, it’s kinda complicated. It’s all a give and take, really.”
“Right, but…didn’t you say the wilds are, like, really dangerous? Won’t some die coming home?”
I can’t deny the possibility of it all. My shrug probably seems a little callous. Really, it’s more a reflection of my weariness.
“I’d say they’ll be safe with a unit of Stalkers. Plus we’ve got some of our own soldiers there, like Pearson. He’s good.”
“OK. That’s good, though,” she smiles. “I can’t wait to see Drum again.”
“He’s changed a lot, Tess. He’s not as meek as he was.”
“Adapt to survive,” she says. “Everyone’s changing right now.”
She’s got that right.
We talk for a little while longer, my flapping tongue struggling to stop from revealing the secrets it holds. There’s one, though, that’s particularly liable to slip off and into the room. Right now, I could really do with another opinion on my family tree.
It’s odd, speaking about Cromwell in such a fashion now that I know just who he is to me. I have to remind myself sometimes that he is a blood relation, that he’s so closely linked to me. We have such a history, both secret and embedded in the past, and right out in the open for all to see, the entire city now well informed of my attempt to assassinate him.
I just feel as if our paths are converging, bit-by-bit. That above all the other directives and orders and requirements set upon each of us at times of war, there’s one primary function that I have to see through: his death.
As the evening rumbles along, Tess makes a remark that brings it home for me.
“You really hate him, don’t you?” she says.
“Who?”
“Cromwell. I can see it in your eyes every time you mention his name.”
I recoil a little and avert my gaze. I can be obvious with her, but can’t afford such a thing with my brother. He might just get suspicious and sneak into my thoughts.
“Er, of course I do,” I stutter. “Don’t you?!”
“Well, yeah. I hate the idea of it all. But it’s really personal with you, I can tell. I mean, it’s understandable, seeing as you’ve had a few, um, run-ins with the guy. But still, I’ve never seen you look so…scary. When you talk about him, you become that person no one wants to meet in a dark alley, you know. There’s this flame in your eyes that lights up really bright.”
“Hmmmm, very poetic, Tess. Yeah, I hate the guy. I hate him, and I hate Woolf. She’s like his sycophantic little sidekick with her white face and black eyes. I’d have happily killed them both today if given the chance.”
My words have Tess leaning back a little bit, shifting slightly down the desk away from me.
“And you say Drum’s changed,” she whispers quietly. “Aren’t you worried about…”
She stop
s short, bites her tongue, and shakes her head.
“About what?” I ask, rather fiercely.
She shrugs.
“Nothing.”
“No, come on Tess, what were you saying? Am I worried…what, that I’m becoming a killer?”
Her eyes return to mine. She nods slowly, her head a little low. She looks almost frightened. I don’t like it.
“I guess,” she says. “Just, the things I’ve heard you’ve done. The things I’ve seen…”
“Oh, you mean those Con-Cops in the southern quarter? Tess, they were killing people. What was I supposed to do?!”
“I know, I know. I get it, of course I do. I mean, you’re a soldier now, and this is war. But…you told me about those people in the old train station, where you found Brandon…and Nate. The Voiceless, right? You um…”
“I cut their throats,” I say blankly. “And I stabbed their leader right in the heart. And when I left, I let a bunch of men burn alive. They were paralysed, but they could feel it all. I let them get eaten by those flames, and I’d do it all again.”
I can feel the room darkening as I speak. I can feel a swell of anger beginning to build inside me. I can feel my breathing quicken, my pulse rise, my eyes narrow and jaw clench.
Tess continues to slide away from me. I can see the mingled fear and concern in her eyes when they meet mine.
“If I can do all of that, I can happily kill Cromwell and Woolf,” I continue, filling the sudden silence with more words. “I’ve crossed a line, Tess. There’s no going back now.”
“But there is,” she whispers sheepishly. “You’re just one person. You don’t need to keep fighting.”
I laugh and shake my head. And through a huff of air I say: “Oh, Tess, how naïve you are.”
And when I look back at her, I see that she’s moving away, heading for the door.
She stops at the threshold and looks back at me.
“Brie, you try to sound like a killer, but it doesn’t work. It’s not you, not the real you. Just…think about what you’re saying. You should hear yourself…”
She shakes her head and fills the room with a final, drawn out breath. Then, turning away, she departs.
I’m left, stewing, my mind as dark as night.
And were it not for the supreme hate that now fills me, I’m sure the tears would come. But they don’t, burnt away by my wrath before that can gather and fall.
I sit, and stare at nothing for some time, mulling over my best friend’s words, over the change that’s happening in me, the darkness that fills me. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to change like this.
But, like everything else, I don’t know if I have a choice.
She can act all high and mighty all she likes. But she hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. She hasn’t done what I’ve done. She doesn’t know what it been like to be me over these last few months.
I never wanted this. It’s been thrust upon me, these powers, this past. I’ve been drawn into something against my will, and I’ve had to adapt to survive, just as she damn well said.
I can’t help what’s happening. I can’t help who I am.
And I can’t help what I’ve done.
It’s my burden to bear now. And in that I have no choice either.
215
It’s several hours after Tess leaves that I hear another knock at the door.
I’m in bed, hidden under my blanket, trying to hide away from the world. The knock is quiet, gentle, the right volume given the growing lateness of the hour.
I don’t answer at first. I can’t stomach another showdown with Tess, even if it’s a conciliatory exchange. So I just lie there, under the covers, hoping to not hear a further rapping of knuckles on metal.
My hope is denied. The gentle clanging sounds again, and this time it’s followed shortly after by a turning of the handle. I stay hidden as I hear the door open up and a couple of footsteps clip-clop inside.
They’re not how I expect. More weighty, the shoes tapping on the floor with a heavier thud.
It isn’t Tess.
A voice whispers into the darkness, the light from the corridor now cutting a wide shard inside.
“Are you awake?”
The tone of Adryan’s voice is soft. It has an immediate impact on me as I roll over and discard the blanket that shields me. I look up and see his silver eyes lit by the luminance from the hallway, showing up against the darker shade of his silhouette.
“Hey,” he says, white teeth glowing. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I shake my head. Seeing him here, I feel suddenly emotional. The conversation with Tess has taken its toll. Everything has taken its toll.
I blink away the first signs of tears and dip my chin to hide myself. Adryan steps forward and drops to his haunches in front of me in a quick motion.
“Are you OK?”
His tone is soft, his eyes sympathetic. It’s all I need to let a few tears slip away, cooling my hot cheeks as they meet with my skin.
His thumb lifts and wipes them clear, his touch gentle and drawing a new feeling from within me. I reach out and take him into a hug. For a second, I don’t ever want to let go.
He’s like the antidote to everything else I’ve done, to all I’ve become. He’s the one who shows me another path, a simpler path. A feeling that I want to explore burgeons inside me, and yet the constant shadows in my head keep it at bay. I hold him tight for a few long moments, before I force myself to let go.
My eyes have dried by the time I do. I’ve purged the weakness from me and set myself back in order. I’ve learned now to manage such things quickly.
“What are you doing here, Adryan?” I ask.
“I wanted to see you,” he says.
He offers no other explanation. Not immediately at least. He moves off his knee and slips beside me on the bed, letting his legs spread out and his back link up with the wall behind.
He looks across the room, to the other bed against the opposite wall.
“Was that Kira’s?” he asks.
“Yeah…”
“So you’re here alone now?”
There’s some suggestion to his words. Or maybe there isn’t. Maybe I just excavate such things from what he says because it’s what I want to hear.
“Tess comes and goes,” I say.
“And tonight?”
“She came…and went,” I say, my voice descending into shadow.
A silence falls. Adryan takes a few breaths, as if building the courage to say something.
“I could stay,” he says. “If you want me to?”
His neck twists to his right, and we catch eyes. A little smile hops up on my lips, quickly withdrawn.
“I don’t want you to stay there,” I say, turning my eyes to the bed opposite once more.
He nods quickly a few times.
“Ok, that’s fine…”
I reach up and grasp his cheek. I turn his face to mine and plant my lips right down on his. I kiss him forcefully and then withdraw, my eyes taking on a new light.
“I don’t want you to stay there,” I repeat. “I want you to stay right here, with me.”
Now it’s his turn to subdue the smile that tries to arch on his lips. I lean in and kiss him again, this time with less urgency and more gentleness. We drift, slowly, down onto the makeshift bed, and I’m suddenly filled with a pressing force of nerves that rivals those I’ve felt in far less tender situations.
His hands slip onto me, running along my side and teasing the skin beneath my loose-fitting shirt. The contact has me quivering, his hand cool against my hot flesh. The nerves within me grow suddenly violent, matched only by the desire that begins to fight for the same space inside my veins.
With both hands, I take his face and my kiss once more turns forceful. Lips press hard and my head begins to whirl with a carousel of memories and thoughts and latent desires, now battling into the light.
But, things don’t feel right. This isn’t how I saw th
is moment with Adryan. Here, on this pallet, in this building where the war is run, in this city ravaged by death and pain and terrible, interminable suffering.
The thoughts that dominate my mind now claw their way back to the fore. Those of war and death, those of revenge and hate. As Adryan’s breathing begins to rise, and his hands start to grow more busy, I suddenly start to feel awkward.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right…
My hands fall from his face and hit his chest. I push, pressing myself back and moving his body away. His wandering hands quickly withdraw, and his eyebrows fall into a questioning frown.
Then, a few confused mumblings fall off his lips.
“I, er, sorry…I shouldn’t…I didn’t mean…I thought…”
He shakes his head, and the mumblings end. But it’s not him who needs to explain.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I’m just…messed up right now. My head…”
The motion of his head goes from horizontal to vertical.
“I understand…totally understand,” he says. “I didn’t come here expecting, um…anything. I just came to see if you were OK.”
“I’m glad you came,” I say quickly. “I’m really glad. And I want you to stay. But, just…”
“I know, I know.” He begins to try to stand. “I can sleep across the room, if you want me to stay.”
I take his arm and pull him down.
“No. Stay here?”
I look up at him with big eyes. They’ve lost their lust and passion. Now, they show a girl who just wants to be comforted.
He smiles softly.
“Of course.”
I fall to the mattress again, and turn away. I feel his weight come down too, his arms coiled up behind me. Our bodies don’t touch, a space between us. I feel awkward, and guilty, and suddenly miles away from him.
I reach back with my hand and feel for his. I take a grip of it and drag it over my body, pulling him closer until his chest is pressing firmly to my back. My fingers wind around his, and I hold his hand close to my chest as his warm breath begins to heat the back of my neck.
My feelings of awkwardness flee, as we coil up together in that position. And other feelings rush away from me too, those of anger and fear and vengeance. His presence provides relief from it all, a way of balancing me out and setting me straight.
