by T. C. Edge
The thought makes me laugh. It would be absolutely fine by me, of course, but I can't imagine the more pampered members of the hill, Elian among them, cooking and cleaning and fending for themselves.
But, who does perform those tasks? I wonder. And...where exactly is that smell of coffee coming from?
I climb out of bed and head to the wardrobe, unsurprised to find a selection of clothes - mostly robes coloured in various shades of red - awaiting me. Choosing one, I pull it on and wrap myself up, before venturing off into the mansion which, given my state of exhaustion, I didn't have the time or inclination to explore the previous night.
Heading onto a landing that looks over the main hallway, I once more forgo the desire to explore - really, it's little more than a dull interest right now - and instead follow my nose towards the alluring scent of the coffee. Down the steps, through the hall, and towards the back I go, passing through large, open doors and into a grand, fully furnished kitchen. The smell gets stronger as I progress, until positively overpowering me as I look to see a pot on the boil, and a brightly coloured man attending it with a smile.
"Ah, there you are," comes his smooth and beguiling voice. "How did you sleep, child? Do you like your new accommodations?"
I blink, not at the light spilling in from the glass-fronted rear, showing the gardens outside, the cliff dropping away at the back, the simply astonishing view of the city stretching into the distance, huge bastions and fortifications visible from here, and even the open plains beyond. No, it's not at that that I blink, but the uninvited presence of the glamorous, colourful man in my kitchen.
"Um, what exactly are you doing here, Master Overseer?" I ask, my voice croaky from lack of use. I cough to clear my airways, stepping deeper into the sprawling kitchen.
The Overseer frowns humorously and looks down at the coffee. "I thought you'd want a cup to wake you," he says. "And a friendly face to greet you." He smiles, wrinkles deepening, though in a nice and grandfatherly way. It still baffles me to think of how old he really is.
"So, thanks then, I guess," I say, taking a long breath as he picks up the pot and pours two large mugs. He hands one to me, and gestures towards a fine kitchen table to one side, looking out over the gardens and flowerbeds.
We sit, the flamboyant man holding his large cup in two withered hands, breathing in the glorious fog as it rises up his nose. "Ah, delicious," he says, with a twist to his lips. "Nothing like a wonderful brew to start the day."
I take a breath as well, and then dive in for a sip. Warm, smooth, and utterly gorgeous, I know for certain I could get used to this.
"How is it?" the Overseer asks. "Good, I hope?"
"More than good," I breathe. "But how come you made it yourself? I was just thinking about the lack of Worthies up here. I don't think I've seen a single one."
"No, you wouldn't," the Overseer says. "It's a tricky thing, really, designing a place of such staggering exclusivity. How to balance using staff when their being here is so...inappropriate. To step foot upon the Sacred Stairs is meant to be a great honour, not intended for cleaners and cooks."
"Then...how?" I ask. "We do it all ourselves?"
"You sound perplexed, Herald Amber. Isn't that what you're used to back on the Fringe? I got the impression that being waited on hand and foot made you rather uncomfortable."
"I was starting to get used to it," I admit with a sly grin.
The Overseer lets out a bountiful laugh, drawing his mug to his lips.
"Well, there's no surprise in that. But don't think that all the Heralds and Chosen work their fingers to the bone on menial tasks up here. No, much of what is required of the Worthies below is, well, automatic. It may not seem it from the outside, but there is a great deal of modern technology in use to aid the functions of daily life."
"What. Like...robots?" I ask, not quite realising how ridiculous the suggestion is.
"Oh, no child," chuckles the Overseer. "Just automatic systems, simple stuff really. All buildings here are supplied by below. Food comes up, waste goes down. You get the idea."
"Erm..."
"Anyway, that's not why I'm here, of course." He smiles and looks at me affectionately, those emerald, gold-tinged eyes of his, with their unlimited depth, surveying me so fondly. "I have come to see how you are, dear child. And I wanted to speak with you personally about your experience and how it all made you feel. So, talk to me, Amber. How are you this lovely day?"
I raise my eyes, mumbling out something incoherent. "I, er, think I need a bit more coffee first."
"By all means. Drink away. I'll bring the pot."
As I continue to gulp down the very much needed elixir, the Overseer fetches the pot and returns to fill my mug. He does the same with his own, sits back down, and turns his eyes over the gardens outside.
"They've given you a lovely spot here," he says. "Truly wonderful view over the city. Perhaps we should take a wander outside, get some fresh air?"
I shrug, rather liking the idea, and we move through the doors with mugs in hand, the Overseer's lanky frame dwarfing my own. That's something I'm getting used to, though. Spending time among the likes of Perses, Krun, Marius, and now the simply galactic Atlas has made me rather accustomed to the idea that men come in all shapes and sizes that I never really knew existed. The Overseer, though tall, doesn't require me to crane my neck quite so much.
We wander into the gardens, the grass so soft, the flowers so bright, the sun shining beautifully as it continues its early morning climb. Through to the rear we go, approaching the edge of the plateau, the cliff falling away into the depths and disappearing into the hanging mist. Through it, and beyond, however, the city is clear enough to see. It's as if looking from below, the mists are thicker. From upon this vantage, the view is less restricted.
And my Prime is it extraordinary. An endless vista that beguiles and entrances, working to the horizon countless miles away. From here, the distinct parts of the city are visible, separated into wedges within the great walls. Though my eyes fail me, being only human, I can only imagine how a Farsight might enjoy this view, gazing at every tiny detail below, following the paths of individual men and women as they go about their days.
And there, beyond the walls, the rugged plains stretch out, covered in that yellow-brown fog that hangs upon the earth like a thick, protective coat. It grows thicker in places, thinner in others, swirling about in rhythmic patterns that I could watch all day long. I wonder if that's where the weather-manipulators are stationed, within those thicker patches. It would make sense that their power can only go so far, each given a portion of the plains to conceal from unwanted eyes.
"It truly is a stunning view, isn't it?" whispers the Overseer. "One impossible to forget. And one you'd never tire of. I can say that for certain, having seen it countless times. But there's always something new to look upon, some new detail, some new point of interest."
He lifts a long finger, guiding it down towards the main gates. I can just about see the main square, with its multi-coloured paving stones, people moving about like ants upon the earth. And there, I see more soldiers, grouped into large companies, marching out towards the gate.
"That, for example, is something rarely seen," the Overseer goes on. "Something that may become more common in the coming weeks." He turns to me again. "So tell me, Amber. How did it feel?" His voice is soft, drawing me in. "How did it feel to kill those men? How did it feel to enter the thrill of battle?"
I return, just for a moment, to that recent memory, rising so clearly, so distinctly, within my mind. My march down the hill, my melting of those men. My bout with the Wind-Elemental, fighting off the flying debris, overcoming such a powerful foe. Oh, it thrilled me all right. That sense of power, of the fire within me surging free. It wasn't so much the death, the killing, that I enjoyed. Just the sense of victory over men of cruelty and evil.
"It's hard to explain," I whisper eventually, holding the warm mug between my fingers. Enjoying that warmth. Fee
ling one with it. "It felt natural. I just behaved on instinct."
"Good, child," says the Overseer. "The very best of us behave in just the same way. Anyone who is required to think too much can never mine the true depts of their power." He smiles, eyes glinting. "I have heard excellent reports from both Herald Perses and his soldiers. Even Hestia, of all people, seems to have warmed to you."
"I kinda forced her to," I admit. "She's not exactly going to disobey the orders of a Herald."
"Ah, quite true. But I have my ways of seeing beyond lies and half-truths, child. She has warmed to you, I assure you. You have been very much taken in by this city now. Word of your prowess is spreading. The people are happy to have you here."
"They...are?"
"Oh yes, most certainly. Yours is a wondrous tale of a prophesy come true. The girl from the Fringe, sentenced to die, who ascended to the ranks of the Heralds, protecting the weak and the innocent from evil. Oh, few can match that story, Amber. You will become a great hero to them in time. Already, it is beginning."
The warmth, the feeling of profound satisfaction that swamps me at his words has my knees almost buckling. To find not only a purpose in life, but to explore this great power of mine, and to be loved by the people...it's a truly indescribable feeling. From a life of simplicity and frustration, to one of great renown. And the only black marks within my story, that of losing Jude, abandoning my old life, my family, witnessing certain horrors that still confuse me. Oh, they're patches of darkness, certainly, but so dominated by the light.
The light, I think, instinctively turning to look backwards, across the plateau, towards the Prime. It is the light that fuels me...
"I'm delighted to see you settling so well, Amber," says the Overseer, drawing my attention again. "I was told by the Prime that you would quickly take to your new position. They are so rarely wrong, that I had no reason to doubt them. But still, you never know. You haven't had the easiest time of it, but the tide is certainly turning. It could prove very important, in the battles to come."
I look up to him with a frown, at the conviction in his words. "So, war is coming then?" I ask.
"War is always coming," he muses. "It's just a matter of time and distance, which are relative concepts of course. War is a constant in human history, and so it continues now in this new age. It has ever been looming on the horizon," he says, forcing my eyes to look out towards the distant plains. "Growing ever closer, ever nearer our borders. You know of the recent developments, Amber. Perses has informed you of what has been happening. Well, it seems inevitable now. Finally, we may be truly tested."
"You sound almost excited," I say, looking up at his narrow eyes, a slight hint of menace flashing within them. "As if you've wanted this for a while."
"Hmmmm," he purrs. "You are an insightful one, Herald Amber. So like your grandmother. And yes, in a way, you're right. I don't wish death upon my people, of course, nor any innocent who might get caught within the conflict. But, doesn't it give you a thrill," he whispers, leaning down a little. "Life can be so boring when you get to my age. I can't deny, perverse as it may be, to wishing to see our city tested."
"And will you be a part of it, Master Overseer?" I ask. "Or will you just leave it to others to die?"
I deliver the words with some unexpected scorn. The Overseer, however, manages to hold that calm poise of his, smile still fixed to his face.
"I'm too old for such things, dear child," he says. "And I wouldn't be much use anyway, at least not on the battlefield itself. I'm sure, however, that I can prove useful in other respects."
"Interrogation," I whisper. "Getting information."
"It is my forte," he says proudly. "And good intelligence can change the course of any battle or war. It can take or save many lives, depending upon its accuracy. It is in that that I will find my military calling."
I turn my eyes down a little, unable to argue with that sentiment. Though capable of causing great destruction, I am nothing more than a grunt, a weapon. It's those behind the lines, those directing the course of battle, who truly have the power.
"And last night?" I say. "Did you gather good intel from the prisoners?"
His lips work into a smile. "I did," he says. "And that is the real reason for my being here." He turns to the house again, and the plateau beyond. "Come," he says, "Herald Perses and the others will be waiting."
With that, he moves off, setting his mug onto the kitchen table as he strolls through the house.
I follow right behind, a throb of excitement drumming in my chest.
62
I'm led, by the Overseer, across the grand plateau, bypassing its gardens and little courtyards, pressing right on towards the very site of our impromptu meeting the previous day. Ahead, I sense a gathering of figures, though proliferated. Two dozen, at least, assemble, sitting on white marble chairs in the centre of the beautiful courtyard. Spaced out evenly, they form into the shape of a semicircle, chairs angled to the middle, where Perses stands within the open space.
Behind him, sitting upon magnificent thrones, I see Mother and Father watching on, slightly set back from proceedings. They appear to be onlookers only, not here to participate, Herald Perses the speaker of their will.
Two seats sit open, one at the far right edge of the crescent, the other towards the middle. "The central seat is for you, Herald Amber," the Overseer whispers. "Take it. Sit with your fellow brothers of the sword."
He moves off, taking position on the edge of the circle, as I venture to my own seat beside Kovas, Avon, and Gailen. I don't imagine that, should the floor be open to comments and questions, Gailen will himself contribute.
It is next to him, however, that I take my perch, the pleasant looking man offering me a smile as I do. He looks a little older than Avon, but younger than Kovas and Perses, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties. His eyes are kind, warm and brown, his ever-closed mouth not stern or gritted tight, but gently smiling as he watches on. He gives off the immediate impression of being someone pleasant to hang around with, despite the lack of conversation. Or, perhaps, because of it.
I notice the eyes of the group fall on me as I take position as quietly as possible, cursing the Overseer under my breath for making us late. Of course, being a man of good manners, he sets about apologising for the both of us, blaming the deliciousness of the coffee for our tardiness. A few sets of eyes roll, but he gets away with it. I sense that the Overseer, being a man to have preceded all others barring the Prime themselves, doesn't feel too compelled to stifle his tongue or deny his good humour, no matter the occasion.
Finally, it's to Elian whom I look, his robes shining gently red like mine. He offers me a smile and nod of confidence, then raises his eyes briefly wide and fakes a nervous look as he gazes about the group. I let out a tiny little chuckle at that, my own anxiety softened.
"Thank you all for coming," Perses's voice rumbles, interrupting the silence and tension of the wait. "We have, as you know, important business to discuss. Rarely do we find ourselves, Chosen and Heralds alike, coming together in such numbers to discuss matters of the city. Yet today isn't any normal day. We face a threat that involves us all."
Murmurs rumble about, the full contingent of the Chosen and Heralds, both of War and those of Awakening currently present in the city, in attendance. I turn my eyes around them, the spotlight no longer on me, and muse so briefly on when I first looked upon them. Then, I'd felt so intimidated, so in awe of their might. Now, I feel as if I belong among them, no longer an outsider.
"I do not need to speak of the recent mission we undertook across the eastern boundary of the Fringe. All of you here know what happened, and all know just how volatile these lands are becoming. We have, I'm afraid to say, remained static for too long. And in our solitude, our enemies have begun to awake."
He turns now to the Overseer, sitting with legs crossed to his side, looking extremely eye-catching and flamboyant even among the colourfully dressed Chosen.
; "The Overseer," Perses says, "has spent the night excavating all shreds of intelligence from the prisoners we took from the battle. We have two distinct reports, in particular, that might just prove pivotal to our plans." He opens out his hand to the Overseer, and steps to one side. "Master Overseer, if you please."
The Overseer bows his head respectfully and stands to his full height. With a gentle, confident lope, he moves towards the centre of the circle, taking Perses's position.
"Good morning to you all," he says grandly, not showing the tiniest suggestion of nerves when addressing so fine an audience. "First, I would speak of the captive Marius, whose own fate is yet to be determined. As a recently awakened Son, he deserves better treatment, and more reasoned judgement, than the barbarians with whom he travelled..."
A few heads nod at that. A few heads shake. It seems the party is split on what Marius's fate will be.
"Now," the Overseer goes on, "Marius was present during the incident with Nestor several months ago, as you have already heard. He survived his awakening, and was eventually released when the two soldiers from Haven stormed the fort and overcame Nestor and his men."
Grumbles sound at that, eyes dancing with fire and bitterness. Oh, Nestor may have had his questionable methods, but he was still a Herald from Olympus. To be killed by foreigners is a crime that cannot be forgiven.
"I have seen, in Marius's very troubled and dark mind, precisely what happened. I now know the very reasons why those two Havenite soldiers where so far north in the first place." He smiles, performing his customary pause for effect as the gathered listeners lean in. "It seems their fateful encounter with Nestor was, in the end, nothing more than a coincidence. Their reason for venturing north was merely to deliver a friend back to her homeland. This friend was herself a friend of Marius, the two hailing from the same village, and Marius, through some basic trickery, was used by Herald Nestor to lure them into a trap." He takes a breath, and another pause, before continuing. "You see," he goes on, "Nestor wished to capture these two soldiers, to bring them back here. Both, as we know, were extremely gifted. One, in particular, was of great interest to Nestor."
