by T. C. Edge
A sudden explosion booms behind me, only a few metres from where I stand. It hurls me forward, the force of the grenade launching me towards the steaming trunk of a wide, belligerent tree, refusing to be completely consumed by the flames. I hit it, hard, the double impact, behind and in front, serving to weaken my shield as I'm thrown about.
I land with a thud, the breath pushed out of me, my head slightly scrambled. I hear a few gunshots rattle in the air. They sound like old rifles, old firearms, not these newfangled energy weapons they otherwise favour. Immediately, bullets start peppering me, pinging off my shield as they hit at angles, just about deflected away, lodging in wood and earth instead.
I roll, stand, and attempt to keep moving, but only present a bigger target. I see enemies materialise ahead of me, moving so quickly through the murky air. They appear, suddenly, from the grime, identified only by the strange, wispy movement of the smoke as they dash on through it and get into position.
I stagger to a stop as more bullets hunt me down, battering against the shield surrounding me. They crack and flash with every connection, most glancing away and not doing much damage, others hitting me hard and square, sufficient to knock me forward or back, cause cracks to appear in my external defences.
Before long, they'll break me down. They'll be through and into my combat armour. Who knows how long that will last?
My only recourse is attack. In a desperate move, I gather some energy and shoot it forward from my palms. The enemy Phasers seem ready, shifting their position, moving out of harms way as the fire advances. It connects with nothing but mud and scorched earth, lighting up a few trees nearby. I turn, again, trying to trace the men's movement. I find them gone, though others continue to fire.
Too many. There are just too many...
Desperate, a sense of dread begins to spread through me, jumbling my thoughts as I try to get my head straight. I turn in all directions, suddenly seeking a different path, a different strategy. Shadows move amid the smoke, stalking around me, blocking off any retreat. Like a pack of predators hunting their prey, they wear me down, confuse me, sniping here and there, nipping at my heels until I collapse and give in.
I think of what else I might do, but can find little way out. Were I to explode with all I have, as I have before, and reach my maximum temperature, I might take out a few, but most would surely be fast enough to retreat, sniping as they are right now from a safe distance. It would leave me spent, as vulnerable as a new born baby. It would, essentially, be suicide.
I search, desperately, for another option, still rushing about as I seek a way through the net. Each time I do, each direction I go, I'm met by a sudden influx of soldiers, firing at me, pushing me back, many resorting to the use of more rudimentary firearms now as they realise how the others don't affect me.
My body starts to grow weary, my mind strained and all but spent. I reach a small depression in the earth, stumbling down into a ditch bordered by blackened trees. I fall, my frame battered by the short plunge as I knock against thick roots and jagged rocks, collecting along the edges of what seems to be an old river.
Thick mud oozes around me, my body immediately covered and caked. I pant heavily and I press myself up, thinking of how easy it would be just to lie here and give in. Never in my life have I felt so exhausted, so cornered, so desperate and alone.
I'm going to die here, I think, right here in these twisted woods. Hunted by a people conditioned to war, a people who know these lands...
Dark thoughts surround me as I get up to my hands and crawl. I hardly even notice now how my shield is all but gone, nothing but a weak field of heat surrounding me, hardly enough to stop the playful punch of a child, let alone the bullet from a gun.
I manage to get up to my knees, and see shadows gathering above me. They search along the bank of the river, no longer able to trace me through the light of my armour and flesh, still careful, always careful, as they seek to put an end to the hunt.
I stop, go still, and drop down once more, sinking into the dirt and grime, trying not to cough as hot fumes pass by on the wind. It's futile, pointless. They're not going to leave until they have seen the job done, and I have no energy to combat such a horde.
I lie still, and feel myself giving up. And as thoughts of those I love begin to run through my mind, I hear a voice above, so close, so near.
"She's there," says a soldier, calling out excitedly. "I've got her. She's right here."
I can hardly lift myself up to look, can hardly even care. Better to lie here, my shield withdrawn, and let them end me quick. A bullet to the head would do nicely. It would be as if I'd never know.
I hear more noise above me, the sound of many more soldiers coming to join in. I can imagine how they're probably looking at me in fascination, perhaps surprised to see a girl of my age out here all alone. Maybe, then, they'll take pity on me. Maybe they'll capture me and bring me in...
The commotion above, the gathering of soldiers, suddenly grows louder. At first I think more soldiers are coming, my ears filling with a shuffle of movement. Then voices rise on the air, not calling out for others to come, but panicked, calling for them to look one way.
I frown, interest calling me to raise my head, but suddenly the sound of gunshots fill the air. I imagine they'll be the last thing I hear, that any one of them could be my last. A strike of preternatural fear spreads through me, clouding my mind, disabling my ability to think.
All I hear, all I sense, is some great clamour above. Gunshots. Explosions. Blood curdling screams of pain and panic. They merge into a a nebulous cloud of noise as I hold on, clinging to the mud and twigs and worms that squirm between my fingers.
And then, all of a sudden, it ends.
Silence falls, the air going still.
Slowly, sounds begin to form again. The light singing of the wind. The gentle, distant sounds of fighting far away. I manage to creep my eyes up, unsticking myself from the mud, and there above me, a single figure remains.
Standing tall, wreathed in black, the leader of the army, the greatest warrior in Olympus, my mentor, stands.
"Amber," he whispers, looking down. "Are you all right, child?"
I wonder for a moment if he's real. I wonder if I'm not dead, this some final dream, some final vision before my brainwaves fade away.
"Amber, are you able to stand?"
His voice grows a little clearer. I narrow my eyes, trying to look through the darkness, but all around is suffocated by gloom.
"P-Perses," I croak.
"Yes, child, it is me." He kneels down at the edge of the bank, reaching in with a great, muscular hand. I see something dripping from it, running down his palm.
Blood. From those he's killed.
I manage to reach up, and his fingers wrap up mine. With a gentle tug, he lifts me easily up from the ditch, my feet hanging in the air as he rotates, placing me back down onto the earth. A slight, faint glow begins to build again in my armour, something, some life, returning to me. It gives an impression of the woods around us, littered now with dark mounds. I take a closer look, some extra light provided by fires still crackling in the distance, and see that they are men. A dozen, two, maybe even more.
Perses has killed them all.
"What...what happened?" I ask, looking around, still trying to come to.
Perses shakes his head, sombre. "It was an ambush, Amber," he says. He sounds weak. "The woods...they were set to blow. We were scattered, and then they attacked. I don't know how many...we've lost."
He winces, that great anvil of a chin grinding as his teeth clench. Through the faint light, I look at his body, at the blood running down his palm. I see it now, see the truth. It's not the blood of the men he's killed.
It's his own.
"Perses, you're hurt," I say, now seeing the source of the blood upon his chest. I draw some final energy from within, and let it fuel my fire, lighting me up brighter. The luminance shines upon Perses, and I see the state of his body.
I scan every part I can see, and as I look at his chest, I feel a dreadful throb of fear press from my heart.
I reach out, and gently touch him, pressing my hand lightly against his mighty chest. His armour, once almost impenetrable, has been badly weakened. There are holes there now, gaps through which my fingers can easily fit. I dip one inside, and he grunts immediately.
My fingers comes back, covered in blood.
"P-Perses..." I stammer, looking up at him in a panic. "You're badly hurt! We have to get you to the camp. We must get you to Eloise."
He smiles softly, and nods down at me. "I...I'll be fine, Amber," he says. "I...I can manage."
"You can't," I tell him, moving myself beneath his arm. "You can barely walk. We have to get you back..."
I pull his thick arm over my shoulder, and try to haul him forward. I can feel the blood immediately, warm streams of it dripping down from his wounds, the blood loss too much for even him to take. He stumbles, one leg failing beneath him, hauling his entire body down, and me with it.
I press up with all my strength, getting him back to his feet. I have so little energy left, like a dying flashlight, it's beam beginning to flicker. He gets to his feet and then begins to drop again. I can hear his breathing growing laboured, see his skin going pale.
"Perses, we need to get you back. Please...help me." I'm desperate now, my voice clotting, tears beginning to swell. "Please, we need you. You cannot die here. You can't."
My words seem to echo now, the woods so empty and cold. The fighting in the distance seems to have stopped, the Havenites retreating back to their city. I look around, desperate, no longer afraid to hide my voice. "Help!" I call out, the word echoing through the lonely woods. "Help! I need help!"
"Amber." I look down again, Perses on his knees. "You need to be a leader now. You need to...to..."
"No! No, don't talk like that. We're getting you back. You are the greatest warrior in Olympus. You cannot be defeated, Perses. Not here. Not now! We need you...I...I need you."
The tears flow now, running down my cheeks, as I grab Perses's arm and force him back to his feet once again. I drag him along, his heavy legs stamping, pace by pace, yard by yard, back to camp, so far from here. We must, I know, be at least a mile away by now, maybe a lot more. How will I ever...
"Come on, Perses," I call again, refusing to let the thought take form. "We can make it. We can do it. You have accelerated healing, remember? Your body is already stitching you up, don't worry. It'll...it'll all be...fine."
I croak the words, not believing them. My eyes continue to fill with tears, lashes blinking them away to clear my vision. I see light begin to bloom, flickering ahead, the fires still burning here among the trees. It gives me hope, gives me something. I lower Perses back to the floor, hurry to the fires as quickly as I can, and draw in its energy.
I feel something, some shreds of power, begin to refill my veins. I turn back to my mentor, hardly able to keep his head up, just clinging to life when anyone else would already be dead by now. As I hurry back towards him, I draw the fire towards my hands, letting them glow with the hottest heat I can muster.
"This is going to hurt a bit," I tell him. "Just...hold still."
Standing ahead of him, I press my fingers through the holes in his armour, fusing the torn flesh to try to stem the flow of blood. He clenches his jaw but barely makes another sound. I have no idea if it will work. I only know I have to try.
I lift him again, and we manage to pace onwards. But still he continues to slow, his body too weak, so little blood now in his veins. He mumbles something out, trying to speak. I shake my head, crying as I tell him to keep his strength, to stay quiet.
"We'll get you back, Perses," I whisper, repeating it like a mantra. "We'll get you home..."
But I know, deep down, that we won't.
I know, deep down, that it's a lie.
We slow to a crawl, and for a dozenth time, the great man falls. He topples forwards, dropping again to his knees, his legs giving way and unable to go on. I try to lift him but can't. I fire myself up, pull harder, but am still barely able to drag him along.
I need more power. I need more strength.
Another light appears amid the darkness, more flickering flame in the distance ahead. I look up at it mournfully, knowing it's too late, my eyes blurring as the light twinkles before me.
It seems to bloom, rising in strength and brightness. Getting larger. Getting...nearer.
My eyes suddenly widen, taking it all in. A smile bursts onto my face, my throat, raw and painful, screeching out once more.
"HELP!" I call. "WE NEED HELP!"
The Fire-Blood comes, shooting towards us at great speed. I let out a heavy breath, panting hard, suddenly invigorated, hopeful, as Elian comes into view.
He moves in quickly, dazzling and magnificent, coming to a stop before us.
"Elian!" I call, rising to my feet. "Elian, help us. We need to get him back. He's dying, Elian..."
The young Chosen Fire-Blood's face doesn't crack. He looks at Perses as he did during the meeting hours before, the contours of his face shadowed and grim. There's no immediacy in him, no caring. He just looks at the great man, breathing heavily on his knees, face plastered with blisters and burns, body coated in blood and ash.
"Elian, what are you waiting for!" I shout. "Get his other arm, come on. We can get him back together..."
I rush to Perses's side, and scoop myself beneath one arm.
Still, Elian just stares.
"Is it true?" he asks, his voice quiet, contained. "Is it true, Perses?"
I frown, looking to Perses, who's chin hangs low, eyes weak as they stare at the ground. "What...what's he talking about?" I look up. "Elian, what are you talking about?! Is what true?"
Elian doesn't answer me, doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there. He just stares, a few paces away, waiting for an answer.
"I..." comes Perses's voice, hardly more than a whisper.
I look between them again, panicked and confused. "What is this, Elian! Please, help me. We have to get him back to..."
"IS...IT...TRUE?!" Elian's voice breaks free, roaring like I've never heard it before, a guttural, frightening growl. It cuts short my desperate plea, leaving me reeling as I turn, again, to look into Perses's eyes.
Again, he doesn't speak, his eyes still square on the ground. I move in closer, whispering quietly. "Perses, what is he talking about? Please, say something..."
Slowly, heavily, his huge chin lifts up, his eyes linking finally with those of young Elian. He looks at him for several moments, and from the great man's eyes, I see tears beginning to form.
A streak of pain crosses Elian's face at the sight. Slowly, he begins to nod. "It's true," he says, his voice now deadened and dull. He looks at Perses for a few more moments, before the Herald's gaze falls back to the earth. Elian lets out a slow breath, and switches his attention to me. "I'm sorry, Amber," he says. "You're on your own."
With that, he turns, his body flaming, and takes his light away, speeding back towards the camp, far off in the distance.
I stay, kneeling, beneath Perses's arm, in a state of shock. And looking at him, looking into those dark, tear-stained eyes, I see the lights begin to go out.
Right there, alone in the blackened, cold, desolate woods, I watch Perses, Herald of War, greatest Son of the Prime, take his final breath.
Now set to journey to the Eternal Halls, along with so many of his men.
THE END
The Children of the Prime will continue in Book 5 - War of the Chosen
Part V
WAR OF THE CHOSEN
85
I reach the camp
late, still in a state of shock. My armour is no longer glowing its usual orange and red, dulled by the lack of fire in my blood, by the coating of ash that settles atop it. Ahead, I can see movement, action, the entire place so full of activity.
Yet inside, I feel dead, empty, as if I just want to go home.
I stop as I reach the edge of the trees, now nothing but stumps and melted lumps of blackened wood, and turn back to look into the devastated forest. What was once a tangled net of ugly, sinister trees, has become a graveyard, filled with death and decay, a place I'll never forget.
I stare, for a long moment, still torn by my decision to leave. If I had anything left in me, tears might run down my face. But there's not, there's nothing, just a feeling of deep desolation and grief, coupled with a sense of confusion and betrayal at exactly what happened in there several hours ago.
Back there, several miles away, Herald Perses lies, his body emptied of blood, his magnificent life-force and aura snuffed out...forever.
I tried to drag him here, tried to bring him with me, but had no strength to do it without the fire to fuel me. I made do, in the end, with rolling him towards a ditch, dropping him in, covering him in whatever detritus I could find. It was all I could manage, but I know it won't be enough. I feel shamed by the idea that the beasts and birds will get at him, digging through the ash, the mud, the twigs and leaves. Shamed that his body will never be properly buried, never laid to rest with the respect and reverence his greatness deserves.
Maybe, I wonder, we could go back and fetch him. Maybe, if Krun's still alive, he'd be willing to help?
It's an idle thought, a weak thought, but it's something. I'd probably never be able to find the same spot again, but it's something to cling to, something...something...
I turn back to camp, busily mustering and preparing to leave. I see many soldiers milling about, Lady Eloise likely inundated now after the devastating attack Haven inflicted upon us.
