by T. C. Edge
"I wouldn't worry so much about that," Marlow says as we stroll under the warm sunshine, working down astoundingly wide streets amid staggering, grand temples. "This city is predominantly peaceful. We have little crime here in Olympus."
I don't doubt his words, at least not entirely. However, the presence of soldiers and other forms of local law enforcement does go against his assertion somewhat. Stationed here and there, and moving around in small units, I see several of them on patrol and in position at certain intersections, particularly those near the city walls.
I ask Marlow about them, and get what seems like a rehearsed response.
"Their duty as soldiers has them on patrol when not on active duty," he says. "They are generally the more formidable among the Children, and keep watch on the city walls for any external threats."
"Threats? Here? Has there ever been any sort of attack or invasion? I've never heard of anything like that."
"Not for a long time, no," Marlow says. "Once, in the earlier days of the city, I'm told there were several battles and conflicts across these lands. Much of it was civil infighting between factions who already lived here. As you can imagine, the Prime took control and established their predominance, thus building the city into the magnificent place it is today."
"It is magnificent," I admit, feasting upon the view around me. I turn my gaze beyond, looking to other parts of the city hidden in the distance. "Are all the regions dedicated to different cultures of the past?" I ask. "There's such variety here. It's kind of overwhelming."
"Oh yes, the Prime has ever wished to celebrate the history of the world, and the cultures and civilisations that once existed here. The thirst for knowledge here is abundant, Amber. It is one of the benefits of living here, away from the Fringe, where life is so much more simple."
"And why aren't they taught anything on the Fringe?" I shake my head. "Actually, you don't need to answer that," I say. "It's pretty obvious."
"Yes?"
"It's control," I say. "Limit a people's knowledge and they are more likely to believe the lies they're told."
"It is purpose, and duty," Marlow says. "But yes, control plays a part in that. We all have our place. The burden of knowledge falls upon those who earn it, and can appreciate it. I don't think it will serve anyone for the people of the Fringe to learn of ancient culture."
"Because then they'll be more questioning, more curious," I say. "They'll doubt the Children's place as gods and goddesses."
"I'm not sure of that, Amber. All Worthies and High Worthies here in Olympus believe the Prime, and their Sons and Daughters, to be divine."
"Odd, seeing as the Overseer all but admitted to me that they're not gods and goddesses like those of ancient cultures. They know that their gifts are man-made, merely a product of genetic engineering."
"I..."
"Look, I'm not trying to destroy your belief system, Marlow, but I'm not great at keeping my thoughts to myself either. But...they do consider themselves more than human, I guess. Gods of a new kind. Real gods, I think he told me. I suppose it's hard to disagree with that."
Marlow bows low, and returns with a smile. "Yes, precisely. Anything more than human has always been seen as divine, to some degree or another. However the Children of the Prime came to be, their position as gods isn't disputed here."
We move on, the night beginning to fall and setting the city into a new light. The sun drops, bathing the streets in glorious yellow and orange hues, wrapping the white stone temples and buildings and streets up in their warming glow. Other, artificial lights begin to twinkle as twilight descends, while basins and lamps filled with fire mark almost every street corner and the entrances to many buildings.
If anything, it's even more beautiful than during the day, with the added advantage of helping to conceal me from sight as darkness falls. Having said that, Krun's appearance behind me seems to alert people to my presence, as if they've already determined that he's been assigned as my minder. Coupled with my shimmering red robes, which only light brighter in the gloom, I'm fairly certain most people are quite capable of spotting who I am.
"Not great if you want to be incognito, are they," I mutter to myself, looking at the gleaming crimson folds in my cloak.
Marlow hears and, as always, offers some explanation and aid. He really is very helpful now in this new role.
"I believe they can be darkened," he says. "Made to look like more normal robes, without the shimmering effect."
"Oh really? How?"
"Well, I think it involves excellent control of your natural abilities." He scratches his chin, then runs his fingers over his bald head, shining rather comically as we stand beneath a fire-lamp set to the side of the building. Ahead, down the end of the street and opening into the grand square, the Temple of Fire looms grandly, lit beautifully in the growing darkness. "Something about reducing your body temperature, I believe," Marlow goes on. "As you know, you can raise it significantly, but I also believe it can be lowered too..."
"It certainly can," comes a voice, smooth, slipping from behind us up the street. I spin around and find the arrogant face of Elian coming towards us, his gait as irritatingly casual as his expression. Behind him, his High Worthy paces a few metres back, head bowed and eyes to his feet. It must be a nightmare for the poor man. He probably finds himself bumping into walls constantly.
"Oh, you," I say, watching Elian approach. "You been following me all afternoon?"
"Oh yes, that's how I spend my time. Trailing girls around." He draws a haughty smirk. "Don't flatter yourself, Amber. The girls trail me, not the other way around."
I sigh audibly at the remark, and my eyes find Krun, looming in an archway off to one side. What is it with him and standing in openings; doorways, archways, he always seems to like having something over his head.
To my surprise, I see the big brute roll his eyes slightly at Elian's remark, as though finding it equally as conceited as I do. I even nod at the beast, sharing a unlikely moment of bonding with him. Perhaps, I wonder, the young Fire-Blood isn't quite so adored as he seems to make out around here.
"Anyway," Elian goes on, slipping closer to me. Marlow immediately draws back as he comes forward, head bowed low, lips sealing shut. "Your High Worthy is correct, the robes can be adjusted to fit different situations and settings. You don't always want to stand out, after all."
"OK," I say. "Enlighten me then."
Elian grins, opens out his arms, and almost immediately, I see his robes douse to a much darker shade of red, losing their shimmering effect.
I raise my eyes up to him. "Right, how did you do that?" I ask, trying not to sound impressed.
"I dropped my body temperature. Come here, I'll show you."
I hesitate. Is this some trick? Why would he even demonstrate for me, or try to help me, given what he said earlier?
"Oh come on, I won't bite." He shakes his head and then steps towards me instead. Before I can act, he's reaching out to grab my hand in his fingers.
I draw back, shifting my weight away, my eyes narrowing at the sudden contact. Then, I stop.
His skin is cold. Almost ice cold.
"You see," he says. "We can light the blaze within, but also put it out. All Fire-Bloods have the ability to alter their temperature, both up and down. For some, it comes far more easily, of course," he says, his coat suddenly flaring to life once more, his hands and any exposed areas of flesh doing the same.
I see the flames light up inside him, coursing through his veins. I even think I see flickers of real fire on the surface of his skin, as though he can not only manipulate flames already burning, but create the flame himself.
"Can all Fire-Bloods do that too?" I ask, seeing the sparks lighting on his flesh.
He shrugs, looking down at his hands. He seems to concentrate a little harder, and the sparks grow more intense, flames beginning to swirl between his fingers. After a moment, he shuts his hands tight, balling his fingers into fists, and the flames go out.<
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"No," he says eventually. "The gift of fire creation is extremely rare. Most are only ever able to control the flames, but cannot produce them. My father learned to forge fire himself. As you can see, I have the same gift."
"And that's why you're favourite to become the Chosen," I say.
"That, and other such things. My heritage is pure, Fringe-girl. You have passion, I can see that, but you've reached the limits of your station here. Good on you for showing some grit. I applaud you for that. But, honestly, you don't have the time to master your abilities during these trials."
"Well, thanks for the words of support," I say lightly, his words having little to no impact on me. If they're designed to put me down, he's way off the mark. All they really do is inspire me to wipe that Prime-damned smirk off his arrogant face. "I'll keep all that in mind."
He lifts a different smile at my words, as though actually enjoying my defiant response and the fact that he's not, as yet, getting under my skin. Perhaps he's got a craftier game in mind, something I can't yet see? I'll have to keep an eye on that, I warn myself.
Still, the manner of my thinking is quite surprising. I'm never usually this competitive over anything, perhaps because I've never had the opportunity to be. Nothing in my life has offered such challenge. And that challenge is enlivening.
I turn to Marlow, moving my eyes from Elian, and find the High Worthy still bowing low, eyes at his feet.
"It's OK, Marlow, you can look up," I say. Tentatively, he does so, though makes sure not to connect eyes with Elian.
I turn again to the young Fire-Blood. "What is it about you that everyone fears?" I ask him directly. "Is it just your station, or are you just a bit of an asshole?"
He grins, the expression suggesting both at the same time. "Judge me when you know me better," he says casually.
"I think I know you well enough already. You know what they say about first impressions? Well, you don't make a great one."
"No?"
"No. You should try to be a bit more down to earth. I don't know, perhaps even acknowledge your High Worthy's presence. Make him feel like an actual human being."
"So this is you telling me off, is it? A girl from the Fringe who knows nothing of life in Olympus." He sighs, shaking his head, and looks over to Krun with an amused shrug. The giant nods his head low in deference to his superior, evidently slightly afraid of him too. "We have customs here, Amber," he goes on, looking back at me, "that you can't yet understand. It's quite common for men and women of my status to act in this fashion around the Worthy. Are you going to judge me for how I was brought up? Is it really my fault if I act a certain way, when that's precisely what's expected of me?"
I purse my lips, considering the statement, slightly taken aback by his words. I guess he's right, in a way. How can I judge someone for where they live and how they were brought up? No one is truly responsible for their nurturing, or their station in life. For him to act against the expected norm would, if anything, only draw questions.
I stand there a moment in silence. It seems enough for Elian to think he's won me over.
"You see," he says, "you get it. Judging people is terribly easy when you get merely a glimpse into their life, isn't it? What you may perceive as demeaning to my High Worthy, others would see as a great honour. He is honoured to serve me. I do not treat him ill, nor do I wish to see him suffer. If you think he's afraid of me, that is nothing but your own projection upon what you see." He turns to Marlow, addressing him directly. "Would you agree with my words, High Worthy?" he asks.
Marlow nods several times, his posture respectful. "Of course, Master. Amber doesn't yet know the customs here, but I will help educate her."
Elian frowns, a ripple of anger spreading across his face. "You will refer to her as Lady Amber," he says sharply.
Marlow bows lower as I jump to his defence.
"I told him to drop the 'Lady'," I say quickly. "I don't like all these stupid titles. He's only doing as I ordered."
Elian lifts his eyes, nodding slowly. "I see," he says. "Well then, in that case, so be it. If Lady Amber wishes it so, then that's acceptable. In future, however, use her title when in company."
Shuffling awkwardly, Marlow nods his head again, eyes low.
"Right, well I'll be off," Elian finishes. "I have an engagement to keep tonight." He drops a wink at me. "Don't wait up for me, Fringe girl. I hate the thought of you pining for me, staring across the chamber to my bed."
I huff and roll my eyes, though for some odd reason, a smile works up onto my face as I turn away, making sure he doesn't see it. I put it down to the simple reason that he's so arrogant it's almost comical. To think the people of the Fringe worship young men like this. He's just a foolish boy as far as I can see it.
I march off, Marlow moving into my slipstream and staying back behind me for a moment. Only once we've moved a little way off does he catch up to me and reach my side, Krun following at his usual distance.
We continue in silence towards the Temple of Fire ahead, lit beautifully as the skies continue to fade. I don't much relish going back inside, spending the night among the other candidates. Somehow, I even yearn to have Krun there with me to act bodyguard, though logically it seems highly unlikely that anyone's going to tamper with me, given they'll probably be eliminated from the contest for doing so.
I did think, however, that all contestants were expected to stay around the temple at night, not go gallivanting off as Elian seems to be doing. Evidently a man of his position has certain exemptions.
We reach the temple, my legs weary, mind equally so. It's no exaggeration to say that the day's been one of the longest of my life, though the last few are also in close competition. And from waking in that opulent chamber, thinking I'd be set for execution for my crimes, I now find myself fully integrated within the Olympus elite, ready to do battle for a position of great eminence.
No, it's not what I wanted, but it's the hand I've been given.
I have no other choice but to play it to the end.
And see just where it takes me.
29
I sleep surprisingly well that night, returning to the Temple of Fire soon after my run-in with Elian, Marlow heading off to his own chambers in a much less fancy building at the edge of the courtyard. When I arrive at the subterranean dorms beneath the temple, I find only a few Fire-Bloods there, most seemingly making the best of the time they're given before the official 'lights out'.
That, as Marlow informed me earlier that afternoon, is supposed to be at 9 PM, the time before that given over to the candidates to spend as they wish, so long as they stay within the specific region of the city. Meetings with friends, family members, and any acquaintances of a more intimate nature, are forbidden during the trials, as is venturing anywhere beyond the 'restricted areas' prescribed by the Overseer.
Locked tight beneath my blanket upon a bed of moderate comfort, I find myself waiting for the official lights out before dropping off to sleep. It's a curiosity, more than anything else, that has me listening from my little alcove at the end of the dorm-chamber, counting down the numbers as the other contestants return from whatever they've been doing.
It doesn't surprise me at all that Elian comes in last, and at the final minute before the official curfew ends. Cruising in on the stroke of the hour, he slips towards his bed without a great deal of regard for others, making plenty of noise as he ruffles through his bedding and prepares to climb beneath them. I watch from the cover of my own little area as he undresses, ending up in only a pair of undershorts, his athletic frame visible as little more than a shadow in the dim light.
Then, suddenly, I see his figure flare, the fires blazing within. They light him up momentarily as he looks right at me across the dorm, his face lit into a pre-prepared smile. I quickly draw the blanket over my eyes, hiding myself from view, but know he saw me. A sense of embarrassment floods through me on instinct, that feeling you get when caught eavesdropping, or spying upon somet
hing or someone you shouldn't.
Hidden away, my cheeks flushing warm, I feel foolish for a few minutes before the feeling fades, sleep coming on quite quickly after that.
I wake feeling refreshed, the dorm-chambers lit by a light pouring in from the open door at its end. The sound of people dressing greets my ears as I slip from my bed, holding the blanket over my half naked frame as I pull on my robes. Across the room, Elian sits already prepared and ready, hair somehow messy but neat at the same time, face looking fresh as he watches me casually from his bed. I hastily dress, before throwing my blanket off into a tumble on the bed, my hair equally unkempt.
I step forward to look into the chambers; all the other candidates are already up and ready, their beds apparently made, their robes doused so that they're not so bright. I, on the other hand, am entirely out of place. I don't yet know how to darken my robe or control my temperature, and my bed is an utter mess. I find the Overseer wandering casually down from the end of the chamber, glancing over the Fire-Bloods, inspecting their mini-quarters and presented appearances.
I turn, hastily rearranging my bedding - just how did it get so tangled up! - but have little time before the Overseer arrives at the edge of my little cubicle. He draws a flat stare upon me, shaking his head.
"Must do better, Amber," he says. "Appearances here in Olympus are very important. You have a responsibility to keep yourself, and your prescribed living area, clean and tidy at all times."
It's a soft reprimand, but a humiliating one.
Not a good start to the day.
Elian, of course, gets the equivalent of a pat on the head, the Overseer merely glancing upon him and his bed-area with a smile and nod, before moving back off. The young man is left with a self-satisfied smirk, carrying it along with him as we file up and out of the dorms and into the main hall above.
There, we find our attending High Worthies, Marlow's face ever more appealing each time I see him. I slip over to him quickly, eager for his company, and turn my eyes around in an effort to find Krun. Oddly, I feel almost disappointed when I don't immediately make him out. I'd grown quite used to the hulking oaf's presence.
