by T. C. Edge
When we arrive in that dark, austere square, flanked by barracks and other military transports, the soldiers step out and move over to Black Thunder. There, they carefully gather up the dead to be taken to the morgue, their official burials down in the crypts set to be undertaken the following day. I watch from outside the rear carriage as Perses oversees matters. Only when all the fallen have been moved does he turn and march towards me, Krun and several snarling soldiers at his side.
"Take them to the cells," Perses orders his men, pointing to the door of the carriage. I step to one side and watch as the carriage is opened up, and the bound captives torn out from within like wriggling guts from an disemboweled deer.
Led by Krun, who carries that same raging look as when he taunted Jude and I in this very same spot, all five prisoners are hastily drawn away, Marius the last to be removed. As the others attempt to struggle, wild like rabid dogs, the large hunter merely casts his eyes upon us all as if hoping the glare will curse us. His eyes pay particular attention to Perses, who so easily bested him in their bout. With a scowl and a snort, he shakes his head, and then, casting his eyes about, begins to bellow in laughter.
"Another fort," he roars. "Another cell. There's nothing more you can do to me that I haven't already endured!"
Krun, standing significantly taller and stretching significantly wider, steps before him at that. He peers down his bulbous nose at Marius, teeth barred in a snarl. "That sounds like a challenge, little man," he growls. "Five minutes with me and you'll be thinking again. Or not at all."
"Captain," comes Perses's calm, commanding voice. "The prisoners are not to be harmed, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Krun drones deeply, still staring down at Marius. He grabs the man by the arm, coiling enormous fingers around his thick bicep. "Come along, runt. We'll find a cell to fit you."
He bellows cruelly at that, following behind the others. A sense of deja vu takes hold of me as I watch them depart...
"Amber," says Perses, demanding my attention. "What did you find out from him?"
"I..." I turn back to him, slightly confused by his meaning.
"He seemed of the talkative variety," Perses elaborates. "Not the sort to need torture and interrogation to give away information. Did he say anything of interest?"
"Well, some things, yes," I say. Then I frown. "Did you put me with him because you thought he might speak to me? Or...or because you thought I'd nosily seek answers?" I don't know why, but the thought irks me somewhat. It's the thought of being used that I don't like.
"Amber, that is not the reason at all. The Overseer will have no trouble at all getting all the information we desire. I merely thought you best for the job, that's all."
"Hmmmm," I mumble, not entirely believing him. "Well, I did speak with him a bit. He told me that Nestor killed his wife and sister, massacred his people, held sacrifices, and pretty much did the worst things imaginable. I can see why he hates us."
"Yes," Perses muses, hand to chin. "I would never blame a man for that. I assume he was freed by the two soldiers from Haven? He must have come this way seeking vengeance. I know many would do the same if they had lost everything they cared about."
"That's pretty much what I got from him, yeah," I say. "He's not a part of the Cure, and seems to really dislike them actually. He seemed to me to be broken, Perses. Like he doesn't care if he dies or not. It's...sad, really."
"Tragic even," Perses says. "But a man who comes to our lands seeking retribution is still our enemy, Amber. Nestor and his men are dead. He would aim his fury at any one of us, innocent or otherwise, and not care either way. That is a man who belongs in a cell."
"But isn't the entire point of the Heralds of Awakening to discover new Children like Marius, making him one of us now?" I ask. "Didn't that very thing happen to you?"
"It did, as it did many of us here..."
"But it was different with you," I cut in. "You didn't suffer like Marius did. Your powers were awoken and you were brought here willingly. Marius had to see his wife and sister die during their transformation. In fact, he said everyone did except him." I narrow my eyes on Perses. "Is that what all Heralds of Awakening do? How many innocent people have to die before they find someone who survives the process?"
Perses raises a hand, fingers stretched out, palm down. "Calm, Amber," he says. "Do not allow the fire to run free on your tongue. I told you before, Nestor's techniques were particular to him. He used a highly perilous method to extract the very deepest threads of divinity from within his subjects. He believed that only those with significant power were worthy of ascension. Those who didn't survive were, in his eyes, unworthy."
"And so he killed them," I whisper, my voice full of gloom. "That's sick, Perses."
"I find it hard to disagree with you, but you don't know the full story. The world isn't quite as black and white as you see it. It comprises many shades of grey, and unless you're privy to the full spectrum, it's difficult to make a complete judgement. The problem is, people act rashly upon evidence of darkness, even if it is balanced by a great deal more light that they never even see. They see the evil and consider it the norm. That is so rarely the case."
"You're talking about these soldiers from Haven, aren't you?" I ask. "You're saying that they saw the darkness, the evil, that Nestor committed, and now imagine that we're all like that."
Perses nods, smiling softly. "Wars have been started for less," he says sagely. "And when they start, they are difficult to stop. Like pebbles that begin an avalanche, they can end up causing great and terrible destruction and strife."
"Then send out emissaries," I say, just as I suggested before. "If you really think a war is coming, wouldn't it be better to try to prevent it without any bloodshed? I just don't understand."
"You will, young Herald," he says. "You'll learn that some fires are difficult to put out when they are set aflame. Our culture here is so different to down south and across the sea. We have hugely disparate ideologies, and that is often a cause of great friction between cities and nations. I fear that no matter what we say, the Havenites and their new allies will see us as a terrible threat to them. It may be something that no form of diplomacy can stop."
"And conquering new lands?" I question bluntly. "Spreading from here and establishing new cities and outposts? Dominating this continent and placing all under our rule? Is that not something the Prime desires?"
Perses's eyes creep behind a bushy frown, pondering my words and wondering just where they might have come from.
"This Marius told you this, did he?" he asks.
I nod. "He told me that he heard Nestor's soldiers talking about such things. That conquering new lands was always the plan."
"And what do you think of that, Amber? Do you think it so wrong?"
"I...I don't know. It depends."
"Yes, of course it depends. Things are never so simple, are they. It depends on a great many things. If, for example, those lands are occupied by dangerous bandits and raiders like those of the Cure, then wouldn't it be better to wipe them out. Perhaps free the local people living in fear under their rule, and the constant threat of violence they bring? There are others out there too, just like the Cure. Dangerous tribes and gangs of wicked men who seek only primitive and base desires. They swarm like vermin, taking what they wish, killing with impunity anyone who stands in their way. That is the state of these lands, Amber. There are few shining lights here."
"And Haven?" I ask. "Is that a light in your eyes?"
"It is. Or...was," Perses says. "Haven is a complicated, multi-faceted society. I have never heard of any intention from the Prime to seek to conquer those lands. Their only desire is for peace, and to spread that peace into savage and untamed realms and regions. If Marius heard our soldiers talk of conquest, that is what they meant."
I think on his words a bit, not wanting to push him or doubt him too much. And how could I ever doubt the Prime? How could I question their great wisdom and foresight, their de
ep and profound knowledge on our past, and our future, and everything that lies in between.
"I guess that's all it was," I say after a time. "And surely it's our duty to spread the good word beyond our borders. To make safe lands where people live in fear?"
"Precisely. I have been on many missions to that end during my years as a Herald of War. I have seen the wildness of the world, and have helped save the innocent from the tyrannical far beyond our borders. We have been building our strength, Amber, aided so greatly by our Heralds of Awakening. Yet the further we go, and the more we stretch, the more dangerous our own circumstances become."
"No good deed goes unpunished," I murmur.
"Indeed," nods Perses. "And there are no easy decisions when determining the fate of so many. That is something you will discover as you learn to become a good leader."
"I'm starting to see that already," I say. "How do you deal with the responsibility of it all. Like when something goes wrong, and people look to you to make things right? Or they start blaming you for..." I cut myself off, snapping my mouth shut. My eyes dart sheepishly to the side.
"Ah, so someone had some unfavourable words for me, did they?"
"I...no..."
"Hestia," murmurs Perses. I snap my eyes back to him with a glancing look. "Yes, Hestia," he repeats, my foolish expression giving it away. "Don't worry, Amber. She won't get in any trouble for it. What sort of leader would I be if I couldn't take criticism. Especially," he adds, voice clotting, "when it's been earned."
"No. No, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Didn't I? Almost twenty of my men died, Amber. I did plenty wrong."
"But we were heavily outnumbered. And you couldn't have known they'd have a Wind-Elemental of that strength with them."
"With further diligence I just may have. But I will not fall into self-rebuke. I will never forget the soldiers we lost, and will wear them in my heart always, but to let such losses consume me would make me far less effective as a leader. To lose soldiers is a terrible part of the job. But it is a part of it nonetheless." He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. "You will lose men, and you will question yourself when you do. When that time comes, do not lose your way."
A weight builds on my shoulders, one that I might just carry my entire life from here. I react not by letting my shoulders sag or chin drop, but by lifting my head up high, and standing to my full height.
Perses smiles warmly at the sight, my teacher and guide, my shining light out there in the darkness of the world. I look into his rugged, scarred face and see not just a mentor, but a friend. I see a man I can trust and rely on, one who will not lead me astray.
"Now," he says. "Let us report on what we have seen and discovered," He turns me towards Black Thunder, and we begin wandering gently over. "I must say, for your first outing as a young Herald of War, you have performed with great assurance and wisdom. You listen well, and do as you are told, yet trust your instincts too. You have been born for this, Amber. And perhaps you have come at just the right time, as the Prime foretold you would."
We reach Black Thunder and step aboard.
And through the city we go, heading for the Sacred Stairs.
60
I wonder, as I pace from step to step, if I will ever get used to this sensation. The cool embrace of the low slung clouds. The wondrous sight of the city below. The strange, magical feeling as I step into the mist and disappear from sight, appearing upon the summit of the great Hill of Olympus, as if stepping into a whole new world.
One of gods and goddesses, a true heaven here on earth.
With Perses beside me, both of us drenched in our combat armour of black and, in my case, a morbidly fitting blood-red, we reach the top of the hill and turn our eyes across the plateau ahead. There, within the boundary of the many grand temples and buildings that spread across the perimeter, I see a greeting party of figures awaiting us.
There are six of them, three of them dressed similarly to us; the other Heralds of War, ready to hear from their leader, none as mighty or physically imposing as Perses, but all extremely powerful and commanding in their own distinct ways.
Another of the waiting assembly is, however, simply gigantic. He is of astounding physical form, a good half foot taller than even Krun, more muscled and broad, a true planet of a man. Dressed in dark brown robes that open at the chest and cut short at the arms, revealing his remarkably large and yet defined muscularity, he is the Chosen Titan, the strongest and largest of all his kind.
The fifth is the only woman in attendance, and though the smallest of them all, she holds an aura that seems to shine. With pale skin so clear it appears almost translucent, and hair of white, she stares across at us with bright green robes and eyes of the same. I recognise her, as I do the others, from my brief showing up here in the past. Her name I don't yet know, but her powers and place I do. The Chosen Phaser. The fastest of all the Children.
The final face is one I know well enough, one I've gone from hating to liking to resenting to, really, forgetting over the last few days. Seeing him again, I feel some cocktail of all of that rise up once more, and wonder just how he's feeling seeing me step up here by Perses's side.
He may have been given the rank of Chosen, but I might just have been afforded something grander. He can stay up here and watch the world pass by from above. I see my place as out there now, doing the Prime's will, becoming the hero that Lilly so wishes me to be.
The thought passes by as our two little groups meet, entering into a courtyard surrounded by flowers and lovely plants, beautiful carvings and tinkling fountains. It seems a fitting place for grand discussions, up here near the centre of the plateau, the Temple of the Prime, and its divine occupants, looming in the distance.
As we step together, a breeze begins to billow and whistle about us, fluttering the robes of those who have them. In the distance, I see a few other figures going about whatever business they have. Other Chosen, not so interested, perhaps, in the affairs of war and conflict beyond the city walls.
Is that what this is? Are these those who wish to be included in any plans that might be made?
I look at Elian again and see a slight curve of envy in his eyes. A jealousy, perhaps, that I've been a part of something important. A resentment for the title I've been given, one that matches and even rivals his own.
I manage to smile at him, even so, and find that he smiles back, though only in forced fashion. No one speaks, however, until Perses does. Etiquette, I suppose, calls for him to be the first to do so.
"Thank you for gathering here," he says, stopping before the others. We drift around into a small circle, and I somehow find myself right next to the Chosen Titan, who blocks out the sun and wind alike. "I see that you got my message, Herald Kovas, judging by the activity below. You are quick to work as always, my friend."
Herald Kovas, the second most senior and powerful of the Heralds of War, nods with great respect to his superior. Though nowhere near the size of Perses, he remains a physically imposing man of middle years, his head bald like all the Heralds, a thick scar cut across his neck that speaks of a close run-in with death some time ago. With almost no eyebrows to speak of, he looks quite unusual, with a large nose and thin lips, a slightly lopsided jaw that looks like it's been broken one too many times. And when he speaks, I see further evidence of that, several of his teeth absent, the rest not in the best working order.
He is, it's safe to say, a rather ugly man, rare to see around here. Unlike Perses, he's rugged in the wrong way.
"It is my finest attribute," Herald Kovas says, his voice as rough as his appearance and words suggesting he's a rather gifted Phaser. It is, presumably, one of several gifts under his possession. "You'll have seen three companies preparing to leave the city. They will march to known danger spots on the border of the Fringe. Updates can be sent if we need them to change course."
"Good. Thank you, Master Herald." Perses regards the group, one by one, eyes moving up and down
as he goes from the Titan, to the Phaser, to Elian and beyond. "All of you will have heard of what happened to us out there beyond the Fringe. It is with great sadness and regret that we lost nineteen good souls. May they journey to the Eternal Halls safely."
All within the group bow their heads in respect and observe a good half minute of silence.
When completed, Perses speaks again. "Now, we all know of what happened many months ago with Herald Nestor, and we know that there has been great upheaval to the south." I see a series of heads bob, eyes narrowing. "You may also have heard from our runners that the group of raiders we fought out there were the remnants of the Cure. It seems that some three hundred of them, perhaps bolstered by fresh recruits as they journeyed northwest, managed to escape the fighting with Haven. We have taken four of their number captive, and will be able to learn a great deal about precisely what happened down there. That will give us a firm idea of the state Haven is now in."
He glances at me, taking a breath, before continuing. "Now, there was a fifth captive too," he says. "One not associated with the Cure. It does seem, however, that he was present during the very incident where Herald Nestor lost his life..."
I see several pairs of eyes lift at that in surprise. Before anyone can interrupt, Perses raises a hand.
"This man was captured by Nestor during one of his raids, and taken for awakening. We all know about Nestor's methods. It will come as no surprise to you to learn that he was the only one who survived."
"What is he now?" comes a voice, breaking through. It comes from another of the Heralds of War, a slim man of narrow build who doesn't look much like either Perses of Kovas. Not so gruff or scarred. Bald, yes, but younger, and with a cleaner, more classically handsome visage. Yet his eyes are as keen as anything, piercing and unblinking. I suspect he's a highly gifted Farsight, though is probably so much more.
