by T. C. Edge
"I don't need to tell you, Amber, that Gailen is delighted with your decision," says the Overseer, looking between us. "And as much as I'd love to lend a hand, this really isn't my forte. I wish you the best of luck. You are heroes, every one of you."
The Overseer nods respectfully, before moving away. The group, clearly having just returned from their latest hunt, move off to Gailen's personal carriage to quickly stock up on food and replenish their energy. I take a moment to myself, chasing down the Overseer before he escapes.
"I need to ask you a quick favour," I tell him, catching up.
He turns. "Yes, of course, Amber."
"I didn't have time to find Jude," I say. "I think he's back with the workers. If we're not back when the convoy makes camp tomorrow, could you just make sure he's OK? I'd appreciate knowing just where he is."
"Not a problem, dear Amber," says the Overseer. "I will do it as soon as we make berth. Don't worry, I will make sure he's under my protection."
"Thank you...so much. I really appreciate it."
"Oh child, you do not need to thank me. I know you care deeply about the boy. We have all lost...too much, tonight."
He dips his head again, and turns, slipping off to the privacy of his own carriage. Though he remains a pillar of dignity and stoicism here, I can see that he's hurting inside. I can see that he's desperate to be alone.
Not me, though. I need distraction. I need action.
I move straight towards the others, join them as they chow down on a few high energy bars, and as the convoy begins to rumble off into the woods, we set off ourselves, searching for survivors.
89
I wander alongside Hestia, our armour set to a low glow, the woods around lit faintly and otherwise oppressively dark. The earth still puffs smoke in places, a few spots still lit by fire where the inferno didn't entirely burn the place apart. Above, where the thick canopy once was, is now clear of everything but the fumes that hang in the air, swirling on the light wind as it passes by.
The entire place is a graveyard, black and dead. Everywhere, tree stumps and hunks of rock sit, lonely now with the blanket of leaves and bushes and vines around them absent, replaced instead by a blanket of ash. The wood looked sinister before, tangled and close, a nightmare for anyone with a fear of tight spaces. Now, it's been opened out, devastated beyond all recognition. Nothing now lives, no beast scuttling through the ash, no bird calling out in the air.
Around us, our search party spread, Herald Gailen in the lead. He helps to lessen the density of the smog as he goes, pressing it away, making it bearable at least. Yet as soon as he does so, it gathers back in, refilling the clear gaps he makes. It's a constant battle that he cannot win.
The group, however, is comprised of those with capabilities that will help. There are a couple of Farsights, peering through the fog, searching for any sign of life. Another is a Tracer, a class of Olympian I haven't yet had much experience with. With highly attuned senses of smell, they are able to spot any odour from a long way out, trace its source with alarming accuracy. We have a Perceiver too, those with an enhanced sense of hearing. As with the Farsights and Tracers, they belong to a collective group known as Sensors.
We have another couple, too, multi-gifted Sensors with a mix of powers. They're more rare, the combination of their gifts making them especially useful when numbers are tight. It is, however, unusual for them to be as proficient in any particular sense specialised in by other classes. A multi-gifted, for example, with both the power of the Farsights and the Tracers, will have extremely powerful sight and hearing, yet will be unlikely to match either a specialised Farsight or Tracer in either.
The conditions, however, make life difficult for all of them, their senses greatly affected by the smoke. Only the Perceiver is unencumbered, the silence of the night, and the lack of animals scratching in the dirt and calling in the skies, making his particular gifts doubly effective.
We look to him mostly, therefore, along with one of the multi-gifted who shares his power, though to a lesser degree, as we go. Listening for any sign of life, any movement in the woods, or quiet groans of pain, they take position at each flank, directing their attention either side of the group as we press onwards into areas as yet unexplored.
Completing the cobbled together troop are a few Phasers, a Titan, and a Skymaster. According to the latter, several of a her kind, a rare breed themselves, were killed during the attack. They'd been in the woods along with their Chosen, Master Taranus, helping to conceal the troops with their weather manipulating powers, creating large areas of mist and fog around them, just as they do around Olympus.
Clearly, it didn't help much. And now, many are dead, with Taranus badly injured and being treated - though I didn't see him with all that was going on - within the infirmary.
We spend well over an hour walking without any sign of life. My presence there, as with Hestia's, is also largely for protective reasons. Having two Fire-Bloods of such power, let alone Herald Gailen, is probably the very reason why the others decided to volunteer for this dangerous job in the first place.
Because dangerous it is. Who knows what we'll face as we venture into the unknown. Yes, we assume that the Havenites have retreated, but what if that isn't true? Perhaps they have hidden bases here, concealed within these woods, or up against the base of the great mountain that begins to rise up ahead of us to the west. We might just stumble upon them, find ourselves outnumbered and outmatched. At any point, I fear, a sudden surprise will be sprung.
It keeps us all on our toes, though the evidence suggests that we are alone. And with our Sensors working hard, hopefully we'd get some warning.
With little to do but rely on others right now, I speak with Hestia about our mutual experiences. Though it hurts to relive it, even in small part, I tell her what happened with Perses after I left, how he came to my aid, and suffered because of it. How he died there in my arms.
Again, I leave out the part with Elian. Until I speak with him myself, discover the truth, I don't want to even think about it.
We speak through whispers so as not to distract the Perceivers, just as the group walks as quietly as they can. When I hear of Hestia's tale, a little more light is shed on things, giving a bit more insight into how the entire attack shaped out.
According to her, the enemy was small in number when she arrived, but skilled. They took advantage of the chaos and took out as many as they could, before suddenly deciding it was time to leave, and rushing off together.
"It all happened so fast," she says, recalling the night's events. "One moment we were in a firefight, shooting across the trees, and the next they were gone. We, um, we lost a couple of Fire-Bloods. Two of my troops, they fell."
"Oh...I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"It won't happen again," she says through gritted teeth. "A lot of our soldiers just seemed to get spooked out there. It was strange. They seemed to lose their minds." She shakes her head, thinking back.
I peer at her. "What do you mean, lose their minds? They panicked in the heat of it all?"
"I...I don't really know. I saw one man drop his weapon and run straight into the fire. Another one just froze there when we were displacing and moving back. The enemy just slaughtered him where he stood. He seemed almost paralysed."
I furrow my brow, not liking the sound of it. Whether it's simply a case of our men losing their cool in battle and making stupid mistakes, or something more sinister, it doesn't sound good. To have gotten Hestia spooked is quite the achievement.
"There's something wrong with these woods," she whispers, looking about, her eyes little more than slits. "The sooner we get this done, the better."
I can't help but agree with her, though as it is, we're fighting a losing battle. According to reports, a quick accounting was done before the convoy left, suggesting that we have at least fifty men still unaccounted for. With all the chaos, that number could be less or more, and it's certainly possible that all those missing are act
ually dead, hidden in these woods beneath blankets of ash. But still, with a number like that, we have to try. If there's just one out here alive, it'll be worth it.
After a couple of hours of searching, and with the night entering into its coldest, darkest phase, we finally come across a couple of bodies, lying stricken in the filth. By the looks of it, neither was killed by fire, their bodies instead blasted apart by those energy rifles the enemy carry. One of the soldiers performs a quick check, looking briefly over them.
"Lookouts," he says. "They're Farsights and Phasers. Assigned here to keep watch on the perimeter."
"They must have not seen the ambush coming," I say, shaking my head.
"No, Mistress Herald. Reports say it was the same everywhere. Few of our lookouts had much warning."
"They died from those weapons," Hestia says, looking at the scorch marks, the holes cut into their bodies. "Our armour doesn't seem to repel them well."
"Not in their current configuration," the man says. "We'll have our engineers look into it."
I turn my eyes around, looking into the clearer spaces created by Herald Gailen, the moon mercifully appearing above us to shine down a bit more light. It illuminates something not far away, glinting a little under the moonlight. I head towards it, drawn to its shine. As I approach, I begin to see the distinctive outline of a man, hidden beneath the ash. And there, poking out from it, is the barrel of a gun.
I move in a little quicker, and tentatively reach down. I grab the end of the gun and pull it up, finding it more heavy than expected. With a little more force, I haul it from the ground, bringing the clinging hand of a dead soldier with it.
I gasp and step back, my heart thundering for a beat or two. Then I peer a little more closely.
An enemy soldier, I think, a little sarcastically. We got one at least...
Kneeling, I peel back the man's rigid, frozen fingers, releasing his grip from the gun. Brushing away the final bits of ash, I reveal a large rifle, thickly built though much lighter, without the man's weight on the end of it, than I'd have thought.
"One of their energy rifles," comes a voice behind me.
I twist my neck to find Hestia behind me looking on. I stand and pass her the thing. She inspects it closely.
"Maybe we can learn something from this. See how it ticks, learn to counter it."
I nod, having the very same idea.
"Good find, Amber."
I smile weakly. "I'd rather find some survivors."
Hestia shakes her head, as if my assertion is wrong. "This might prove more useful. It could help save lives."
I raise my eyes at her, even though I can understand where she's coming from.
"Sorry," she says. "It's just a fact of war. Numbers count out here."
We rejoin the group, Hestia handing the rifle along to be stored in the large sack being carried by the Titan. With two more of our own deceased now added to the official casualty list, we stumble upon a couple more, our Tracer guiding us towards the distinctive note of dried sweat on a dead body, before also discovering that of burnt skin and melted armour.
On both occasions, owing to the continued presence of the overpowering smoke, we have to get relatively close before he's able to track them down. Their addition to the list, however, at least allows us to strike them off it.
Each new dead body we come across brings us closer to the completion of our goal, adding, in a perverse way, a hint of success when we discover them. Yet there's no excitement that accompanies our night out in the graveyard, only a sense of sorrow with each downed soldier we find.
No life, no survivors. We stagger across the blackness surrounded only by death.
We go so far, heading towards the foot of the mountain, that we eventually come across greenery again. The smoke begins to clear out, and the woodlands start to thicken. Though we've passed sparse trees and little areas of deadened shrubbery, they were nothing more than little islands in the vast ocean of blackness and gloom, somehow escaping the wrath of the storm as it roared its way through, devouring everything in its path.
As the lands begin to rise, however, stretching towards the great highlands beyond, the trees begin to proliferate once more, the inferno evidently burning itself out as it neared. What remains are pockets of fire, still eating their way through the trees, the final embers of the beast that pressed the reset button on these lands.
We stop there, knowing we've likely gone too far. No survivor, were they to get lost, would venture further into those woods. They'd have turned back and tried to go around, working towards the camp. Unless delirious, or determined to escape the horrors of war, seeking a new life elsewhere, we decide that no one is likely to have gone that way.
And more than that, none of us want to go either.
We work back, therefore, doing so down a different route, moving again towards the epicentre of where it all began. As I learn, however, from other reports, there was no single place where it started. Though none of us were there when it happened, the few survivors who have so far been found have spoken of a great rising of flame, a tide of death, exploding from various places all at once.
The general thought is that it was a trap, the woods set with gas or fuel or explosives of some kind, undetectable to the Tracers, let alone the rest of us. It could be that they were set off, or merely went off when our soldiers passed through, triggered to explode by proximity. Whatever the case, it makes progress from here more taut and tense, knowing they may have set traps elsewhere.
It's an odd sensation when morning comes, bringing light to a brand new day. I barely slept the night before, after I learned of Jude's presence in the camp, and briefly had it out with Elian. Now, I've spent another night without sleeping, the entire course of this journey, this unpredictable campaign, taking on an entirely different feel. It's hard to fathom how swiftly things can change around here. Days ago, I was training with Elian, falling into a budding romance with him, excited by what was to come.
Now, he's fallen into darkness, I've discovered Jude, and my mentor, Herald Perses, is dead.
It sets me on edge all the time, no way to relax when you don't know what's coming next. It's like these woods themselves, sinister and foreboding, littered with death, with bodies we cannot see. There might be danger ahead, or around the next corner. We might reach the camp only to find it in flames, the Haven army much grander than we thought, the city far too powerful for us to overcome.
Perhaps we have underestimated them. Or perhaps, as Kovas says, this is merely them playing their hand, trying to make us think twice, a bluff to weaken our resolve and cause chaos within the camp. It could be either, or just somewhere in between. And that, in itself, is a frightening thought.
By now, I hope, the convoy has landed in an appropriate berth where they can settle more permanently. Though the carriages are designed to be mobile, they are also designed to be unpacked, creating a long term base of operations from which we can make our assault. I know there's no way we'd have been sent out unprepared. I know that we have some of our own tricks up our sleeve. Sieging a city isn't an easy task, and we're going to need specialist weaponry to manage it.
Please, I think, no more Prime-damn surprises, as we wander wearily through the deceased woods, now fully laid bare beneath the light of the morning sun. It shines above, rising incrementally higher, illuminating the fumes and smoke that continue to hover and swarm. The effect is quite eerie, accompanied by the disquieting silence, the usual morning song of the birds absent having flocked from the fires and following fumes.
Only the sounds we make are heard, the troop now walking with a little more weight, limbs growing too weary to creep along in silence. We shuffle, our boots and lower legs now covered in ash, leaving trails behind us as we go, trails that any smart enemy could trace, should they wish to do so.
We stop, as we have once or twice already, resting under the non-verbal orders of Herald Gailen, who is keen enough to notice that many of us need a break. Set
ting down his great sack, the Titan gives us access to water and food, which we tuck into hungrily to give us a final boost.
As we eat, and rest, the men distracted from their duties, I notice Herald Gailen looking out to the distance. There's a strange expression on his face, one of deep concentration, that sets a sudden nervousness within me. I turn, immediately, to look in the same direction. I see nothing that we haven't seen before; a long, grey expanse of fog and fumes, peppered with black stumps and nothing more.
I move towards him silently, the growing width of my eyes getting his attention. He looks at me, and then touches his finger to his ear.
Listen, he's saying. Listen.
I do so, though can't hear a thing. Does Gailen have enhanced hearing too? How many gifts reside in his blood?
I look to the Perceiver, sitting on the ground nearby, munching on a bar as he stares wearily at the floor. I hiss at him to get his attention, and his eyes instantly shoot up.
I wave him over.
"What is it?" he whispers, hastily stepping towards me.
"I don't know," I whisper back. "I think Herald Gailen can hear something coming."
The Perceiver refocuses quickly, moving ahead of me. Others behind us crouch down and gather up their weapons, having overheard what we said. I look to those who didn't and gesture for them to do the same. Within moments, we're all in position to fire if needed, our bodies hugging the soot-covered earth, making us small targets should we come under attack.
But not Gailen. No, Gailen stands tall ahead of us, seeming to fear nothing.
I watch him, and the Perceiver crouched down by his side, waiting.
Silence falls for a few long moments. I still hear nothing in the distance, nothing but the sound of our own breathing. Yet through the mists ahead, clearing suddenly as a light breeze comes through, I think I see something. The same as we've seen all night. A mound upon the earth, nothing more.
