by T. C. Edge
"And, there it is, the expected sarcasm," sighs Perses. "Firstly, yes is is necessary to have my soldiers with you. They will be on lookout while you train, and particularly after, if you expend a lot of energy. You may be vulnerable at that time. I'm disappointed that I have to tell you again just how dangerous this world is, Amber. You are fully aware by now that there are numerous individuals with great power out there, perhaps enough to topple both you and Elian in the right circumstances. So, don't get cocky. It is unbecoming of a Herald."
I drop my eyes, feeling foolish.
"As per your second comment, of course they will stay suitably far back, unless with their own natural protections. I'll order Hestia to accompany you for a start. Otherwise, Krun will be there to assist and keep watch with a selection of Farsight lookouts and other suitable soldiers."
I nod silently.
"Good," Perses says. "Now, as far as your other extra-curricular activities go, please don't let this stop you from pursuing them. I won't deny that you're causing a little bit of friction in the camp, but nothing too problematic so far. Herald Kovas doesn't agree, and thinks your actions might be poor for camp morale, but frankly I think that's nonsense. It's always good to keep soldiers in check. They can become a wild bunch when on the warpath, so what you're doing is making them think twice." He smiles at me, stretching out that wide chin of his, the scars criss-crossing his face altering their shape. "How is everything going in that regard?"
"Um...good," I say, my words catching just a little bit. "I've got a few Worthies who are willing to tell me of any wrongdoing they see. It's a start, I suppose."
"And they're reporting anything so far?"
"Not much," I admit. "It's mostly an ingrained form of contempt, I guess. Verbal abuse more than physical, so not easy to police. I'm just worried for when some testosterone fuelled brute puts his hands on one of the girls. That's when I'll get violent, Perses." I finish with a growl, that can't possibly sound in the least bit intimidating to a man of his stature.
However, he takes me seriously, nodding along, signalling through his expression and body language that he agrees with me completely. I get the impression that it's a valid concern, not something outlandish that would never happen.
"But," I go on, "aside from that there's been little to report, at least nothing my spies have seen with their own eyes. I don't think they're comfortable reporting unless they've witnessed it, and..." I begin shaking my head, in a manner of self rebuke, "...and I guess my main concern has been with the girls so far. That's not right. I've definitely seen some of the male Worthies and servants around with marks and bruising. It's possible that they're seeing poor treatment." I finish with a pensive stroke of the chin, a warrior for justice pondering her next move.
"Certainly possible," Perses says, confirming my suspicion. "A shove here or a back-handed slap there, from the wrong person, can do a lot of damage to someone incapable of withstanding it. A Titan often forgets his strength. A Phaser forgets how much power lies behind their speed. Even without the intention, they can cause potentially serious injury. And yes, it's particularly likely against the men. Be sure to keep your eye on both."
I feel a reinforcement of my purpose at Perses's words, so thankful for his support.
"However," he goes on, "we're talking about a small minority of rotten apples among the bunch. The vast majority of my soldiers wouldn't subvert my ruling. Don't tar the entire army with the same brush, Amber."
"I'm aware of that," I say. "And I know that few would act on their contempt towards the Fringers. But, that doesn't mean that they don't think they're superior to them. That's something that needs to change."
Perses gives little reaction to my words, a clear enough sign that the task isn't likely to be a simple one. I get the impression from him that he only partly agrees with my stance on that count, which isn't overly surprising. Yes, he respects the people of the Fringe, and values their lives much more than most, but he surely considers the Children of the Prime to be something of a higher life-form.
It's hard to argue against that sentiment, frankly, seeing what I have. And yet having powers doesn't make someone a better person. In fact, from what I've seen, often the exact opposite is the case. It fosters an environment of arrogance and disdain, breeding a host of unlikeable traits. Not amongst all, of course - certainly, Felina has proven that - but amongst many. Those born with less, in my experience, often grow up with better, more humane values. The wealth of money and power in Olympus has, despite all of its many wondrous qualities, corrupted those who might be better.
The task is a grand one, well worthy of a life's work. Or, perhaps, several of them. But still, one step at a time, Amber, is all I can tell myself. Nothing can be accomplished overnight. But if you start here, and now, perhaps in time, you'll be able to affect some proper, substantial change?
I take that thought into the evening as I set off, once more, to pursue my new purpose.
69
The camp is particularly loud that night, the usual chorus of chatter and boisterous humour dialled up a notch or two. With a number of days of dull inactivity behind us, it seems that the slowing of the convoy has, in some unexpected way, given the soldiers a bit of extra life. Yes, it has been slow, but not without incident. With the lands growing more wild, there seems to be a sense that danger might be lurking around any and every corner. Among those built to fight, that's an exciting prospect.
There is, however, another reason for the high spirits, something that I find very surprising to see at first. Passing by a couple of campfires, I find the men all with cups in hand, gulping down their contents in a manner that tells me they're definitely not drinking water. Getting closer, I realise it's ale under consumption. Strange, seeing as I thought Perses was outlawing any such drinking on the road.
I let the thought simmer in my head for a while as I continue my nightly rounds, before coming across one of my informants. After a quick update of hushed conversation - fairly unnecessary that night given the din within the camp - I ask her about the alcohol. According to her, they do have reasonable stocks of ale with them for rare nights of celebration, though I imagine they're best saved for after the war, not before it.
Other than that, she has no idea whether Perses gave the order to break the stocks open, or the men simply took it upon themselves. Then, at a nearby camp, I notice a toast being sung, wooden mugs knocked together, and a single name spoken loudly as they do.
Kovas.
Ah, so it appears that it was the second most senior Herald who permitted the men to drink...
I think little more of it, though wonder if there might be some rift developing between Kovas and Perses. As my master told me already, Kovas doesn't quite agree with everything I'm doing, and appears to be more of an uncompromising, hard-line thinker than Perses is. Could it be that he ordered for the release of the alcohol tonight as an act of defiance?
I don't ponder it too long, thinking it of minor concern, but continue on my rounds for a little while longer. A couple more of my informants give me nothing of interest. Another speaks of a minor infraction involving one of the Titans, disgruntled after a disappointing defeat during the tree-throwing contest earlier that day, shoving a male servant into one of the carriages as he passed by. The man, apparently, was a little roughed up, but got away with nothing more serious than some nasty bruising and a few sore looking scrapes.
I consider finding out more about it, but decide to let this one pass. If I start punishing soldiers for such things as pushing someone over, I'll lose their respect too quickly. No, I have to wait for something worth pursuing, before setting out my stall.
It's a fine balance, really. And not easy doing all of this alone.
I continue on, working against the clock as the army sets into its brief evening of frivolity. It won't last too long, I know. Even if the drinking of ale has passed beneath Perses's nose, those staying up too late beyond curfew won't. Each night thus far, there has b
een a fairly strict period given over to evening activities, before the call is made for everyone to get some sleep. A well rested Army, Perses says, is essential when engaging in battle.
It's hard to dispute that, though I wouldn't be surprised if certain groups, fuelled by beer, don't stay up a little longer within the cover of their carriages, converted each night into pseudo-dormitories for some of the more senior members of the force.
But then, we are still far enough away from the south-eastern reaches occupied by the Havenites to make the odd lapse of judgement, and release of tension, acceptable. To this point, progress has been quick, our route being covered at excellent speed. Yet we remain a fair distance off, many hundreds of miles to cover. And with the roads becoming more tangled and untamed, it seems likely that we have at least another week, perhaps more, to go before coming upon our quarry.
To that end, it's hardly surprising that I spot a glowing red figure coming towards me through the camp, disengaging from a conversation with, surprisingly, a young Worthy girl. With a nod to her, he spots me on my rounds, and begins marching right at me, his hair and eyes glowing with their usual golden tint that so sets him apart from the rest.
"Spoke with Perses," he announces as he gets near. "We're clear to..."
"I know, Elian. He told me earlier."
He arrives, looking a little disappointed that he didn't get to announce his triumph himself. "Right. Well, no time like the present, is there?"
I arch my eyes skyward, checking the stars and moon. "It's a little late," I say. "Let's start tomorrow."
He follows my gaze up, turns pensive a moment, and then offers a little nod. "Fine. Tomorrow. I assume Perses told you about his conditions? I'll speak with Krun to arrange security." He says it with a slight huff, as if he considers the concept slightly unnecessary, as I did.
"Hestia as well," I say. "She's leading the other Fire-Bloods now, isn't she?"
"Correct. I've been coordinating with her. They're under her charge, but under my orders. And, well, yours as well, I guess. Working together, they'll be a highly potent unit when the time comes."
"Shouldn't they be training with us as well then?" I ask. "Wouldn't it be better to have all of us working together?"
"No," Elian says immediately, as if the answer is completely obvious.
"Why not?"
"Because," he says, with the hint of a sigh, "they cannot match our powers by a long shot, Amber. Working together, we can attain a temperature that we can withstand. It will enable us to enhance our powers, and make us less vulnerable to attack. But...anyone else would simply be scorched alive, perhaps even Hestia. The rest wouldn't last more than a minute or so. And any other soldier will burst right into flame unless protected by suitable armour."
"Right. So, just me and you, then."
"Exactly. We're very evenly matched, though each have our own strengths and weaknesses. Combined, we can enhance our strengths and reduce our weaknesses. We can watch each other's backs, and protect one another's flanks. When operating close by to each other, we can create a Fire-Shield that will encircle us both, becoming doubly as effective. It'll make us almost invulnerable to most attacks, assuming we reach peak temperature that we can both withstand."
"Sounds...interesting," I say, musing on the idea. "But I do recall reaching a higher maximum temperature than you during the trials." I manage a cheeky wink, though don't garner the excepted smile in response. "That was meant to be a joke, Elian."
"OK. Good one. But, it's not something to be flippant about, Amber. You did reach a higher max temperature, but you remember what happened, right?"
I nod, not sure if I like it when Elian turns so serious. Yes, he can be almost annoyingly lighthearted and charming at times, but he's got a very serious side when it comes to training, developing, and using his powers. I guess I forget how potent they can be sometimes. And potentially fatal to the user if mishandled and not given the due respect.
"If you'd pushed any further, you might have died," Elian goes on, rubbing the point right in. "I reached max temperature with control. You did so without. I'm not saying you can't go hotter than me - that's actually one of the strengths you have over me, if I'm being honest - but you need to do so with control. If we're working together, I need to know you're not going to lose control and burn us both alive. So, this is why training is so important. Got it?"
"Got it, Elian. I'm not disputing all that."
"Good. And, frankly, even if we weren't working together, you should be training anyway. Everyone in this army has mastered their own powers. You're still brand new to yours. I'm surprised, actually, that Perses has been having you sat in Black Thunder all day, and not going off to train. It would be easy enough to arrange without losing sight of the convoy."
"I think he's got enough of his mind, to be honest. I'm hardly that important to all this. I probably won't even have to engage."
"Well, that's to be seen. But either way, it's worth it being as prepared as possible. That's all Perses ever goes on about, and yet he's hardly paying you any notice."
"Like I said, he's busy. He doesn't want to have to worry about having me off making trouble when the convoy is moving."
"He's overprotective, that's what is it," Elian says, frowning and growing unusually hostile. "It's like he thinks you're his daughter or something. Who knows, maybe that's exactly how he sees you. He doesn't have kids of his own, so..."
"And so what if he does," I cut in. "I'm hardly well liked here. It's nice to have someone looking out for me. There's no one else like that. The Overseer, maybe. Hestia. But, that's about it."
"And me." I look up, see Elian's eyes on mine. They dart off to one side, momentarily awkward. "I'm looking out for you, Amber."
"Sure. To suit some end of yours, probably."
His eyes morph, their kindness eroding into something that displays hurt. "Thanks. Nice to see you think so highly of me."
"I..." I draw a breath, slowing my tongue, and let a short silence fall. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I do...I do appreciate your help, Elian. It means a lot to me. I guess I forget that sometimes."
Around us, the crackling of fires, the din of noise, seems to soften a little. I see the hurt fade off again, replaced by the hint of a smile. He steps towards me, just a half pace. The movement sends my heart jumping ahead a quick beat, nervous as to his intentions.
But then, seeming to suddenly doubt himself, he stops, and merely turns his eyes off to the camp, still in the throes of its muted revelry. "You wanna continue patrolling?" he asks. "Something's more likely to happen. You know, with all this drinking going on."
"I...sure," I say, smiling and letting out a breath. "So, do you know who permitted all this? Has Kovas said anything about it?"
"He spoke about giving the men a night off, yeah," he says. "He's not quite as careful as Perses about everything. Thinks the men need to blow off some steam."
"So it was his idea..." I muse. "Um, what's it like travelling with him, anyway? Gotta be miserable stuck in that carriage all day."
"Er, not really. I kinda like Herald Kovas. I've known him a long time. He was good friends with my father. Has lots of interesting stories to tell about their youth and time upon the hill."
"Oh. OK. That's...good."
"Yeah, it's fine. He's gruff if you don't know him, but a good man beneath it all."
"I guess."
His half smile returns, eyes whipping off through the camp. "Anyway, shall we? I've been speaking with a few of the Worthies, seeing if there's any trouble happening tonight. Nothing major so far, but there's still time. Come on."
He begins moving off. I stop him, standing my ground. "Wait..."
He turns. "What?"
"You...you've been speaking with Worthies?"
"Sure," he shrugs. "I said I'd help you, didn't I? This is me holding up my end of the deal."
I stare at him, wondering if there's some angle at play. I can't figure one, and why should there be, other th
an, perhaps, to ingratiate himself with me. And, is that an angle? Is there anything wrong with that? No, nothing at all. It is nothing but two young people wanting to help each other out, get to know one another.
In fact, it's one of the sweetest things that anyone's ever done for me, especially given his background. To put himself out there and join my cause, one he cannot possibly believe in as I do. It's...
"Thank you, Elian," I say quietly. That's...incredibly sweet of you."
He waves it off, though I sense a tiny hint of blush on his cheeks, visible against the flickering firelight. "It's nothing. Something to keep busy, that's all. Anyway, don't get soppy on me. Come on, we're wasting time."
He gestures me forward, and I stumble towards him, feeling the light press of his palm upon the small of my back as he leads me on. It's a touch that I'd once have moved away from, or brushed off. No longer is that the case. Now, it feels...nice. Natural. For a few moments, I enjoy the warming touch, his fingers seeming to send a light pulse of heat through me.
And through the corner of my eye, I look up and see a smile simmering on his face, as we move into the camp, Herald and Chosen alike, our paths finally aligned.
70
We spend about an hour at work, keen eyes signalling our intent as we move from campfire to campfire, carriage to carriage, making sure that all fun and frivolity is being kept in check. Mostly, everything appears good natured, nothing more sinister than soldiers letting off some steam, enjoying a few drinks before setting back to the rather mundane task of travelling to war.
Yet, within the lighthearted fun, a few darker elements begin to breed. The conversations grow more lewd. The competitive nature often seen among soldiers comes to the fore, minor scuffles breaking out between the more aggressive members of the army. We spot a couple of these from afar, though Elian stops me from interfering. They are, he tells me, natural elements of soldier life, and will be broken up quickly enough before anything too serious happens.
