Conquest

by T. C. Edge

  "And you...trust Lucius completely?" I pose the question softly, making sure that I don't sound too judgemental.

  Dom looks over at me, sitting upright on the chair beside me. "I do," he says. "I know you have your doubts, and I understand that, but Lucius is a good man, Kira. All that stuff from the past isn't relevant anymore."

  "I...see that," I say, careful to tow the line. Honestly, I'm not sure where my feelings about Lucius lie right now. For the most part, he's been excellent and supportive since he became co-Emperor, and escaped the shadow of his father, Lord Pontius. But then..."I just, well...he did speak out against me, didn't he?" I argue. "You know, about my duties, my...freedoms."

  Dom sits up, shifting his position in his chair. He leans forward as I am, elbows to his knees. "He did have a point there, you know," he says. "I'd probably do the same in his position."

  "You would?"

  "I think almost anyone would, darling," he says, stroking a few strands of red hair from my emerald eyes. "I love you, and want you to be happy, even if that means you continue to fight. I know that's who you are, and I'm not going to try to change that. But...for the others, it isn't the same. You are their new Empress Consort, and that means fitting a certain mould. You understand that, don't you?"

  I nod slowly. "I do. I understand. But it doesn't make it any easier. They've seen who I really am now, even if they didn't know it before. I just...I don't know if I'll fit in there after all this. How can we go back and make things work? How could they ever accept me after saying what I did in the council chambers."

  "They'll accept you, Kira," Dom reassures me. "They know your past, and they know all about you and New Haven. Would they really expect you to sit back and watch your city fall, without doing anything? No, some may love you even more for it. To defend your people with such passion is a fine quality. I...I know I love you more for it. Is that enough?"

  I smile weakly, and place my palm to his cheek. It's warm, even in the cold night air, the first day of our journey only just ending as we press towards the Atlantic, skimming over the Mediterranean sea at great speed. "It's enough," I whisper. "You'll always be enough."

  We kiss under the moon and starlight, cementing our bond. I know, whatever happens, that I love Dom more than I ever thought I could love anyone. And that, while I'll always be there to protect my home when I need to, I might just be happy enough to give all the rest of it up. For him, I'd do it. For him, I'd do just about anything.

  My eyes turn to the left and right, the lands just about visible in the distance. Ahead, the narrower stretch of water once known as the Strait of Gibraltar awaits us, providing passage from the Mediterranean sea into the Atlantic Ocean. Here, within these waters, we have seen calm weather, perfect conditions to allow us to travel at great speed.

  Out there, in the endless, empty expanse of the open ocean, it might well be different. Over the numerous times I've done this trip, I've found that the journey can take starkly different lengths of time depending on the weather we face. If calm and clear, we can rush unimpeded, the ships higher speeds attained, unaffected by the threat of larger waves. If those larger waves begin to roil and boil upon the surface, however, it can affect our progress greatly. And, in certain conditions, make the entire journey quite perilous for a ship of this size.

  "Do we have an update on what we'll face out there," I ask, looking ahead towards the strait. It's not with trepidation over our own safety, but merely the delays we might face.

  Days, I think again. It'll take days to get there. We might already be too late...

  "Merk has a good handle on things," says Dom, dipping his eyes down. On the deck below, Merk will be there at his station right now, keeping watch over everything from the bridge. He'll probably go without sleep a fair bit in the coming days. "He knows these waters as well as anyone. Says we might hit a bit of rough weather in a day or two, but nothing that'll delay us too much."

  "And what's too much?" I wonder, partly to myself.

  "I don't know, darling," he says. "It's going to take four or five days minimum to reach New Haven, even if everything goes perfectly. We can't possibly know what will have happened by that point."

  "It's very familiar," I sigh, unable to drink wine, like Dom can, at a time like this. This setting, one I've enjoyed so much over the last fews months, doesn't register with me now. The night air, the stars and moon, the shimmering light of the water, and the golden glow on distant shores, speaking of people, of ports, that still exist there. I can't enjoy all that at a time like this.

  "I know it is," Dom says, his voice regretful. "But you came back and found the city safe last time. I'm sure it will happen again."

  "I...doubt that, Dom," I say, feeling a swell of negativity spreading through me. "This isn't like before. I just hope the city has prepared properly. I hope they're ready for what they're about to face."

  "They will be," Dom assures me, ever a crutch for me to lean on. "Brie will have made sure of that. And Ares is there. That's got to count for something. He and his men are some of the very finest warriors in Neorome. I'm just glad they're there. I'm glad the council haven't yet voted to bring them back."

  "That's your doing," I whisper, grateful. "You stationed them there. You argued for them to stay. I can't thank you enough for that, Dom."

  "I was only following the terms of the alliance," he says. "But, I don't think anyone saw this coming so quickly. It is lucky that they haven't been brought back yet. If the word luck can be used here."

  "It can," I tell him, laying against his shoulder. "Ares and his men will make a big difference. I know what a force like that is capable of. I just think...maybe the Olympians will have the same. Just...more."

  "That won't serve you well, Kira," Dom says, stroking my hair, the night so silent but for the gentle splashing of the waves and we cut so easily through them. "It's no good thinking like that, or even thinking about this at all. I know it's hard, but it will only stress you out, affect your sleep. The best thing you can do is try to rest as much as possible during the journey. Try to relax, as stupid as that sounds."

  I nod. "It does sound stupid," I say. "But I get what you're saying."

  "I could help," he tells me. "You remember the first time we crossed this sea?"

  "How could I forget, Dom. You kidnapped me from my home. It's not something that just slips the mind."

  "You still sound a bit bitter," he says.

  "I..." I shake my head. "It's in the past, and it all worked out well. More than well, actually. I wouldn't have met you otherwise, would I? Kidnapper or not, I kinda like you."

  "Thanks."

  "But I know what you're saying. You could use your powers to put me to sleep. Only wake me when we arrive."

  He looks at me openly, willing to do so if that's what I want. I think he knows me better than that by now.

  I shake my head. "It's...tempting," I say, "but it's a slippery slope too. I can't just shut off when I don't want to face the world. I need this time to think."

  "About your friends? Your city?"

  "About everything, Dom. A lot's happening so fast and I...I haven't had much chance to take stock."

  "You mean our marriage?" He nods, understanding. "I did spring it on you quickly. Perhaps...too quickly. And I know you're struggling to transition. It's a big change."

  "One I'm trying to embrace," I say. "It's just...being told what to do, when to do it. I've had that before, to an extent, I guess, with the Nameless. But, that was different. I was a soldier then. A spy, an assassin. I can be good taking orders when I believe in the cause."

  "And you don't believe in your new cause?"

  "I don't know what my new cause is yet," I say. "If I'm not a warrior, what am I? This whole thing could be it for me, the final chapter of my life as I know it. If I'm to be your wife, Empress Consort, then I know, deep down, that I can't be like this anymore. You fight for it, but you know it too, Dom. It's just...it's a lot to take on."

  I
turn my eyes down, thinking, as a short silence falls between us.

  "Are you regretting it?" Dom asks eventually. His voice is small, almost nervous to what my answer will be. "Agreeing to marry me?"

  I think, but only for a second. A smile lifts on my face as I remember the moment, still so fresh, so recent. "Not for a second," I say. "At least, not the idea of marrying you. It's everything that comes with it..."

  "We'll work it out, Kira," he tells me, assures me, as he draws me into his arms. "There's nothing we can't overcome, so long as we have each other. When we get home, we'll face it all. We'll find our path, I promise. Whatever it happens to be."

  I look up at him, suddenly feeling stronger for his words. "And do you think we will get home?" I ask. "Do you really believe that?"

  He frowns at me. "Of course I do. I have faith in your people, and mine. I have faith that this alliance will deal with this enemy threat. We will get home, Kira. I promise you, we will."

  A smile works onto my face. "Good," I say, looking into his handsome, tanned visage, so dark under the night sky. "That's the only way to think. You have to think that way when you enter a fight, no matter the odds. If you don't, you're beaten already."

  "You learn that with the Nameless?" he asks.

  "I learned it from many people. The Nameless. Zander." I look at him. "Rufus. He...he taught me a lot too. I wish he was here with us."

  Dom nods, solemn. "So do I, Kira," he says, thinking of his old friend. "So do I."

  We sit back again, resting into our seats, combating the cold in each other's arms. And there, as the boat work towards the vast ocean ahead, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

  19

  Brie

  We all have our happy place, those places we retreat to when things get tough, when you seek the comfort of something familiar, something that makes you feel loved.

  Yet sometimes, they're not places, but people. Those people you know you will always be able to rely on. Those people who will be there for you, through thick and thin, in the good times and the bad, no matter what.

  I'm grateful that I have several of those. Those who have been with me my entire life. Who still remind me, whenever I get a chance to see them, of the girl I used to be.

  I'm standing with two of them now, facing off in a hasty, if not heated, discussion about something they're both passionate about: the housing and caring of the city's forgotten and orphaned children. It's a worthy cause, as worthy as any, and something that now takes up just about all of their time.

  "We need another room, at least, for the Phasers," Tess is saying, her hair, though slightly unwashed, still maintaining its silky, golden quality, if a little muted. And those eyes of hers, those lovely blue eyes, tell of a young woman who, though tired and drawn out, has discovered her passion in life.

  No, it isn't her endless hunt for eligible young men that now demands most of Tess's time and attention, it is the caring of the orphans, many of whom have seen far too much for children so young. And, like Tess, who herself witnessed the terrible murder of her parents when she was only a child, many have witnessed horrors that they will struggle to ever get over.

  "There are no other rooms," comes the reply of Mrs Carmichael, my old guardian, my adopted mother, father, and friend all bundled into one. "We will just have to make do with what we've got..."

  Her life has always been centred around taking care of kids, but never quite on this scale. She's so busy now that she's even had to cut back on her favourite two pastimes: smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey, usually enjoyed at the same time. They're both habits I've ever tried to get her to break over the years, but to no avail. And though she hasn't abandoned them completely, she's certainly been forced to limit her two particular vices.

  Her eyes, old and weary, set upon Tess as the much younger woman does the same. "I know the Dashers need more space than most, but there's nothing we can do about it now, Tess," she says. "They're going to have to make do. Even the Brute children are having to fit into a couple of rooms, so spare a thought for them as well."

  Tess huffs and shakes her head, though eventually agrees. She turns to me instead, watching them with a vacant look on my face.

  As yet, I haven't told them about what happened with Adryan yesterday morning. No, I don't really want to talk about it to be honest. If I do, I'll weaken.

  And I cannot have that now.

  "So when exactly are we moving anyway?" Tess asks me directly, frowning as if I'm in charge of this entire operation. "We're filled to the brim here, Brie. You know what's going on on the inside, this whole Oasis thing. What's the verdict?"

  It takes a moment for me to realise that the attention has suddenly fallen on me. "Moving?" I mumble.

  "Well, we can't all stay here, can we?" says Tess, looking around at the hall. "We're fit to bursting."

  The building we're in is one of several orphanages in Inner Haven, catering to the care of the kids made parentless during the war. It's the one Tess has been running herself, with Mrs Carmichael overseeing the overall enterprise, managing all five major orphanages within the city. Three are here in the centre of Inner Haven. Two more are over in Outer Haven, down in the southern quarter. With Outer Haven having been evacuated over the last couple of days, it's made everything a bit of a squeeze, trying to fit the kids from the other two orphanages into the ones here.

  And that is why the two are constantly arguing. Tess thinks the Dasher orphans need more space. Mrs Carmichael knows that it isn't going to be possible. It's one of many little disagreements they've had since I arrived here yesterday, needing to find a place to escape to.

  "Well?" says Tess, urging me to answer. "What's gotten into you, Brie? You're so...vacant. Do you need more sleep, is that it? Have you not been getting enough?"

  "I've been getting plenty," I lie, the strain in my eyes probably enough to out my dishonesty. "Er, what was the question again?"

  Tess opens her hand out towards me, looking at Mrs Carmichael. "You see, Brenda," she says. "The girl's all over the place. So much for a super-powerful mind. Can't even remember a simple question."

  "You do look a little strained, Brie," croaks my old guardian. "Has something happened?"

  I flatten my eyes. "Apart from all this?" I say, looking around. "It's pretty familiar, isn't it? I think we all have a right to be strained."

  Mrs Carmichael nods. Tess, however, merely frowns and shakes her head. "Diversion," she says. "You're hiding something. What is it?"

  Thoughts of Adryan rush into my mind. I feel an ache behind my chest but refuse to give it time to grow. I shake my head. "Nothing. Does it need to be something specific? What about the fact that we're back fighting another war, and the city has been under siege for the last two days. That not enough?"

  "Jeez, what's gotten into you?" says Tess.

  "Tess, nothing has gotten into me. I'm just not in the mood for this sort of interrogation right now, OK? I've got a lot on my plate."

  "Of course you do, darling," says Mrs Carmichael, laying a comforting arm around my back. "You know, you can talk to us, if there's something specific on your mind."

  Tess nods, growing quiet, retracting that acerbic tongue that she occasionally lets loose.

  "It's...nothing, really," I say.

  "Well, if you're sure," says my old guardian sympathetically. "But...you have been here for quite some time. That hasn't happened in, well, ever, I don't think. Don't you have better things to do than hang around here?"

  "Right now?" I breathe. "Not really. I actually need a break from it all, to be honest. If I'm needed, they'll call for me."

  I see Tess's eyes lifting up over my shoulder, towards the front entrance to the main atrium where we're gathered. A smile works up onto her face. "Speak of the devil," she says.

  I turn around to find the silver and red figure of Marcus stepping in, turning his eyes to the left and right, evidently searching for something. It soon becomes clear that it's me he's after, his vision qui
ckly picking me up, his lips parting into a smile, and his feet dancing their way towards me.

  Tess, seemingly unable, like Mrs Carmichael, to completely give up on her old habits, swoons as the young man ventures our way. "God, he's just so...." She makes a sort of grumbling sound of pleasure, shuddering as the dashing figure of Marcus, so very out of place among the regular folk of the city, marches on.

  Others, of course, give him equal attention with their eyes. The Neoromans have become like celebrities here, men of fantasy and myth seeming to come to life before the eyes of the people. Not all of the Neoromans, I know, have taken to the new attentions coming their way with such joy and enthusiasm. Marcus, of course, most certainly has.

  He smiles, therefore, as he steps onwards, waving to those who call out to him, ruffling the hair of any kids who gather around his waist, gazing up at him in wonder. I imagine that little Abby, so excited by the heroes of our time, would be one of those tracing his step were she here right now.

  Eventually, after being slowed by the gathering throng of excited kids, Marcus finally manages to reach us. Mrs Carmichael immediately sets about shooing away the children, telling them to return to their sections, where they wait to be housed, and dealing with the more unruly sorts personally as she moves off, resetting a measure of order to the room. Tess, meanwhile, looks at Marcus with a glowing smile, never one to shy away from showing her lustful intentions.

  Marcus, to no surprise, smiles back with a similar energy.

  And...do I feel jealous about that?

  "So what are you doing here?" I ask him, snapping his attention away from my friend.

  "Please say you've come to see me, Captain," Tess says breathily, still staring into his warm chocolate eyes. She manages not to drool, thankfully, something I have seen her do before.

  Marcus turns back to her, smiling once more. "Tess, isn't it?" he says to her.