by T. C. Edge
What will that mean for Jude, I wonder? Will she have worked her magic on him already, healed his arm and sent him back to Ralph to rest up? It hardly seems to matter now. His arm will heal in time, I hope. His cheek will scar anyway.
Only hours ago, that was all top of my agenda. Now, my mentor is gone, along with how many others? The war has begun, and already we are losing. Maybe, I think, we're preparing to go home.
Maybe, I think, we should...
I step forward, so weary, so drained, my legs hardly working at all. Still, my mind works backwards, trying to work through things, trying to understand how all of this could have happened. Somehow, Haven knew we'd go that way. Somehow, they were prepared. We marched into those woods, cutting through, basking in hubris and our own magnificence. For weeks now, we've been devastating the landscape, making roads wherever we please. Here, perhaps, we thought it would be just as easy. A final pathway through the woods, bringing us right onto Haven's doorstep.
Oh, how wrong we were.
Oh, how we've paid the price.
I don't yet know the cost, how many lives we've lost. There were hundreds of soldiers in there. Titans and telekinetics forging the path. Sentries and scouts looking out for trouble. How many of them have survived? How many of the Heralds, and the Chosen, still remain?
I have no idea right now, though the answers are just ahead. Perses is gone, a loss too great to fathom. Without him, what are we? Without him, who leads?
I feel a wretch in my gut as the answer comes to mind. If Perses was this army's leader, then Herald Kovas was most certainly second in command. Now, I'm sure, the reins will pass to him. His first decision as leader, I think numbly, should be to march us home.
It's a decision, I know, he will not take.
I continue onwards, scanning ahead as I trudge wearily towards the light. My mind works again, wondering, fearing who might be lost, hoping, in some morbid way, to find that Herald Kovas has fallen too. That would pass leadership to Herald Avon. If he, too is still alive...
Who remains...
Who?
I know, at least, of one who does. The young man who might have saved Perses's life, but chose instead to let it slip away. I frown, too tired to be angry right now, only confused at Elian's betrayal and behaviour. Why did he leave Perses there to die? What exactly was it that made him so angry?
'Is it true,' he'd asked the Herald, back there in the woods. 'It is true,' he'd shouted, his voice echoing through the smokey air.
I try to think what it might mean, my mind too exhausted to do so clearly. Only one thing comes to mind, one thing only that might make sense. It's something I'd rather not think about right now, with Perses so recently passed.
I turn from the thought, marching a little quicker, growing more eager with every step to find out what's gone on. For all those who may have witnessed death in there, who may report on those lost, I have the gravest news to tell. News that will send shockwaves through the men. Tremors that will eventually lead to Olympus, and lead to great mourning back there too.
'If Perses can fall,' the soldiers will say, 'then why are we even here? What chance do we have now that he is gone?'
Fear will bloom bright tonight, the question and concern valid. Those already afraid will grow more agitated than ever. Those experienced in battle will find themselves tested. And those under the charge of Perses, the many who'd loyally served him for years, will grieve for the loss of a man they cared for, as much as a commander to lead them through the dark.
The figures ahead begin to grow more distinct as I draw near. I scan any I might recognise, looking towards the front, where the great carriages of the Heralds stand. Black Thunder, the steed of our fallen leader, sits lonely, mournful, as though it knows of its master's fall. I look upon the mighty carriage, my home away from home, and feel a further swell of sorrow that I'll now travel in it alone.
Can I bring myself to do so? I wonder. Can I ever hope to step up into his place?
You need to be a leader now, comes Perses's voice in my mind, an answer of sorts to my internal dialogue. Some of his final words to me, before he fell to delirium at the end. He knew, right then, that his time was near, that his life-force was about to fade.
But I know I cannot possibly step into his shoes. Without him here, without his support, his guidance, his wisdom...I'm nothing. Just a foolish girl who overestimates her power, who acts impulsively in the face of danger.
If I'd never gone out there alone, if I'd never gone searching for survivors, then maybe he'd still be alive.
He died protecting me.
He died to save my life...
A throb of guilt drums in my heart as I find myself looking upon Worldshaker, the carriage used by Herald Kovas. I see soldiers outside it, standing on all sides, creating a perimeter, great Titans like those who guard the Sacred Steps within Olympus. Within the carriage, through its windows, I see light blooming beyond the curtains and blinds. It's being guarded heavily. It looks as though a meeting is going on inside.
I pace towards it, my nerves jangled, mind heavy with exhaustion. My face and hands and hair, just like my combat armour, are coated in mud and ash, covering my usual radiance. I step in and find one of the Titan guards noticing, his eyes narrow and keen as he steps to block my path.
"No one passes," he booms. "Go back and join your troop. Seek attention at the infirmary if you need it."
I look up at him, unable to understand why he can't recognise me. Then I realise my state, so concealed by filth as I am. I lift my hand and wipe some of the soot from my eyes, trying to untangle my hair.
"What's going on inside?" I ask wearily. "I need to get through immediately."
"A meeting, but nothing of interest to you. As I say, return to your troop. The convoy will be leaving soon."
I breath out, too tired to make a fuss, and knowing that it's not his fault he doesn't recognise me.
"My name," I say, breathing out, "is Herald Amber. Now please, let me pass."
He looks a little closer at me, the dim light of the camp hardly helping as the skies fill with smoke and soot. "Herald...Amber?" he says.
I nod, and wipe a line of dirt from my armour. Behind it, it glows subtly red.
"Oh, Mistress," says the Titan, leaning back and standing tall. He bows his head. "I apologise, I didn't recognise you."
"It's fine," I croak. "Now can I pass?"
"Of course, of course." He steps aside, opening up a pathway towards the door, nodding to the two soldiers guarding it. "Let her pass immediately," he says. "Open the door."
The guards notice that it's me, quickly opening up the door for me to enter. A murmur of noise comes from inside, the interior going quiet as I wearily climb the steps, and appear upon the threshold.
And into Worldshaker, for the first time, I step.
86
I see figures inside, sat around a central table, many of them showing signs of minor injury, their armour and robes blackened and stained. Through blurring vision, I do a quick count, seeing who's still alive.
Lady Dianna sits, crouched forward, her hair grimy and no longer a sparkling white, green armour dotted with soot. Beside her, the gigantic frame of Atlas looms, glowering angrily, covered, by the looks of things, in more blood than ash. I see Herald Avon there too, looking intense, though unhurt. And right ahead, looking extremely grim, Herald Kovas leads the discussion, with Elian brooding by his side.
The only man who appears entirely unaffected by the attack is the Overseer, his colourful robes looking more out of place than ever as he sits in one corner, legs crossed, casually watching proceedings.
I step inside, and pass my eyes over Elian. The mix of emotions in his face is clear. An anger remains, a brooding intensity, though as he looks up at me, I'm sure I see shame. The look forces my expression to not soften, but harden.
You left Perses to die, I think. And you left me in there, alone.
"Herald Amber," comes a rough voice, drawing m
y eyes, and thoughts, away. "We've been wondering where you've been."
I turn my eyes from Elian to Kovas. He regards me with a note of dispassion, no concern for my absence and late arrival. Did Elian tell them what happened? I wonder. Did he say he'd seen me in there with Perses? Do they already know he's dead?
I look at him again, my own face a scowl. His eyes weaken under my gaze, and fall away.
Coward, I think. You haven't told them anything...
"Where have you been?" comes another voice. I turn my attention to Lady Dianna, who shoots from her seat and takes me by the shoulders. "Come, child, sit down. You look terrible. Are you injured? Are you OK?"
Her tone is the exact opposite of Kovas's. She seems genuinely concerned for my wellbeing as she leads me to a spare seat and sits me down. She clips her fingers and the door immediately opens, a guard from outside stepping in, fetching a blanket, and laying it over me.
"You're so cold, dear child," Dianna goes on, touching my cheek, then rubbing my arms. "Your fire has completely gone out."
Her attentions, caring and motherly, begin to weaken me as I sit there. Were I alone I'd break down in tears. Here, I can't. I won't. I am a Herald of War, like my master. I will not show weakness in front of Kovas.
I look up, checking the occupants of the room again, seeing if I've missed anyone. I notice that the Overseer has also moved from his perch, standing above me looking sympathetic. He kneels down on his old legs, and places his hand to my cheek, drawing my eyes.
"What happened, Amber?" he asks, softly. "What happened to you out there?"
I remove my eyes from his, fearful that he'll look beyond them, see everything that went on. Doing so will make it all too real again, bring it back towards the front of my mind, those memories, so fresh, drawn back up. I cannot go through it again. I have a duty to report this myself.
But first, a question drops from my lips, buying me time, allowing me to steady my emotions.
"Where is Master Taranus?" I ask, speaking of the Chosen Skymaster. "Where...is Herald Gailen?"
The others look to one another. It is Dianna who answers.
"Master Taranus is in the infirmary," she says. "He has suffered serious injuries, but we hope he will be OK."
"And...Gailen?" Of all the Heralds, aside from Perses, Gailen seems a man I can trust. Odd, really, since we've never shared a word, the man's lack of a tongue making verbal communication impossible. But I can see it in his eyes; he has a good heart. And his power is one that is hard for any of us to match.
Please, I think, don't let him have fallen too.
"Herald Gailen is OK," says Lady Dianna, smiling comfortingly, offering me some relief. "He is out there searching for survivors as we speak. We have some teams searching the woods for the injured and lost. And so far, we haven't heard anything from..."
"Wait," comes another voice, usually soft, now croaking from the fumes and ash. I look up to Herald Avon, Dianna's voice cut off. His eyes are narrow, his brows falling above them. There's a look of great concern on his face. "Why did you only ask about Taranus and Gailen?" he asks. The others look to him, suddenly knowing what he's trying to say. "You...you haven't asked about Herald Perses. Do you know something? Has something happened to him?"
I scan the group now. All faces before me shape with concern, all but Elian, his eyes down, hands clasped together before him, head shaking lightly in the shadows of the carriage.
"No, Perses will be fine," says Kovas gruffly, dismissing the idea. "The man is unkillable." I look at him briefly, only for a moment, before my own eyes drop again. I can't tell if he's being genuine or not. I can't tell if he already knows.
"Amber," whispers Dianna. She takes my arm again, squeezing lightly. "Amber...what happened? Tell us what you know."
I keep my eyes down, blinking quickly. I need to do so to stop the tears from falling, wiping them away before they can settle and fall. It takes me a few long moments to try to compose myself, my mind flooding again with Perses's death, those dreadful minutes when I tried so hard to get him back, get him on his feet, keep him alive.
It was all in vain, all for nothing.
All...my fault.
A silence descends upon the carriage as I look to the wooden floor, the fire-lamps flickering upon the walls around us. I try to bring up the words, but find it impossible. All I can do is stare down, my hands shaking, as the others look on.
It's enough for them to know. My silence says it all.
"He's...gone," whispers Avon from across the room. "He's dead, isn't he?"
Still, I cannot speak. All I can do, all I can manage, is to nod.
The carriage falls into a state of silent shock, Dianna gasping softly to my side. No one moves, no one speaks. I can feel the Chosen Phaser's hand still on my arm. Her fingers clasp tighter, before gradually loosening as the shock runs through her body, weakening her grip.
I manage to raise my eyes, and see faces in despair. Eyes look to the floor. Skin grows pale. Heads shake, unable to believe the terrible news, lips muttering personal words of disbelief and shock. Yet no one denies it, no one questions it. Such was the suddenness, and ferocity of the attack, that even those thought unkillable could have fallen.
Eventually, a voice breaks the silence. "Where is he, child? Do you know where he fell? Did you see it?"
I turn to look at the Overseer, kneeling beside me. His eyes are most pained of all, the eyes of a man who knew Perses from a pup, who saw him rise in prominence after coming to the city. Here, he could be grandfather to us all, far older than anyone in attendance, anyone out there within the camp. He has, most likely, seen countless people rise and fall, grown used to death, to the loss of those he cares for.
Yet this is different. This is Perses. No one expected him to fall.
"I...I was there," I manage to say, finally finding my voice, my words. "He saved me from an attack and...he died in my arms."
I look up at Elian again as my voice cracks, tears threatening to flow. This time, I find his eyes drawing to mine. They stick, just a moment, still conflicted, before moving once more away.
The Overseer nods, hand on my shoulder. The other presses to my cheek, and once again my eyes lift to his on instinct. He looks right at me. This time I don't look away. I allow him a moment to find the truth, fill my mind only with the final moments of Perses's life, and my vain attempts to bury him. And then, before I can think of Elian again, I look away.
The Overseer turns to the others, standing. "He is dead," he confirms. "His body has been buried. I fear it may become his final resting place, in the woods where he fell. Tracing Amber's step may prove too difficult."
He steps away from me, drawing everyone's attention as he goes. His eyes turn to Herald Kovas, sitting in a mournful pose.
"We now look to Herald Kovas to lead this army," the Overseer says. "By the laws of Olympus, and the divine power of the Prime, I, as their representative here, announce Kovas as lead Herald of War. May he take us forward to victory. Let him avenge the death of his predecessor."
Kovas stands as the Overseer steps back. His eyes turn around all within the carriage, a heavy breath filling his lungs. He looks nothing like Perses, holds none of his grace and dignity. There was something grand and regal about Perses, standing so tall and wide, his voice so commanding, eyes so keen. Kovas isn't the same. He has his own brand of authority and intimidation; much shorter, more gruff, his face oddly formed, ugly and scarred.
I look at him and see a brute, a killer, not a man to lead an entire army. They called Perses the Prime's greatest weapon, but he was so much more than that. Kovas seems a blunt object only, a man of action, yes, and a man to inspire the troops as I've seen, but not a man to devise strategy, not a man to manage such a force.
It could be that I'm wrong. It could just be that I don't like him, and am judging him based on that. But there is something...cruel about him. Something completely direct, implacable, and entirely ruthless.
Maybe, a p
art of me thinks, that's just what we need. Someone who'll make Haven pay. Someone who'll be relentless in seeking revenge...
And before us now, he stands, squat and brutal of figure, grim and stern of face and expression. He looks left and right, as though trying to maximise and magnify the moment, make it as grand as possible, start his tenure with some memorable speech.
Yet when he does speak, he does so with few words only. Words of which I think everyone can agree.
"My heart is heavy to hear of Perses's loss," he says, his voice quiet and sombre. "He was as a brother to me for many years. We fought and bled together. We saved one another more times than I can count." His eyes fall. He takes a pause. "I wish I could have been there this time to save him. I wish I could have at least said goodbye. At least," he says, looking to me, "he had someone with him when he fell. Someone he was proud of, someone to now make him proud."
He keeps his eyes on me a moment, making clear his point. He wants my loyalty. He wants me to fight for him as fiercely as I would have done for Perses.
He doesn't have to worry about that. I'll do all I can to make amends.
"We will mourn him. We will honour him. Yet we must go on, and not let this hold us back. We have lost men this night, many men, yet we have an army at our backs still eager to fight. The Havenites showed themselves to be cowards tonight, afraid to face us in a straight fight. We will show them, now, what we are capable of. We will move immediately through these woods, and show them we cannot be stopped. This train will keep on going. And soon we will have our revenge."
He stops, the words settling within the carriage, his first orders as leader of our cause. I look around, trying to read people's reactions. There's little right now, the pain of Perses's loss far too near. Yet the embers of something still glow, set to light up bright and herald in a new day, a new determination to see the job done.
Oh, this isn't just a mission to pre-empt the Haven threat anymore, try to disable any possible attack before they grow too strong. No, this is personal now. The loss of Perses will hurt us, weaken us, but also galvanise and unite us. In some horrible, perverse way, it might just make us more dangerous.
