by T. C. Edge
Nothing but another dead body.
"Another one?" I whisper, breaking the silence as I look to one of the Farsights. The fumes fill in once again, quickly blocking our view.
"Yes, Mistress. It looked like it."
I slowly get to my feet. Herald Gailen turns to me, and holds up his hand, causing me to stop in place. He shakes his head, and turns to our Perceiver, still concentrating hard, listening intently. We look at him for a long, long moment. And then, opening his eyes, he begins to nod.
"A heartbeat," he says. "I hear a single heartbeat, and the sound of light breathing."
The realisation hits us quickly. There's no threat out there, no enemy in the mist. The mound is a body, yes, but not a dead one.
One of ours is still alive.
We launch into action immediately, hurrying through the mists as Gailen swings a hand, creating a wind to blow it away. The deadened woods ahead clear, the heap upon the ground coming into view. We rush towards it, the mound growing in clarity. With a second flick, Gailen commands the winds to blow once more, brushing the figure clean of ash.
I skid to a stop as I realise who it is, lying on his side with his face towards us. One side is almost black, his skin and flesh cracked and severely burned. His armour is in a similar state, severely damaged, though just about keeping him alive. Herald Gailen quickly drops down, confirming his pulse.
He nods and stands, turning to the Titan, who immediately sets about unpacking a stretcher. It's not a normal sized one, but one meant for men of his size. An oversized stretcher for an oversized patient.
I kneel on the floor, and lightly touch the giant's face.
"Krun," I whisper. "Krun, can you hear me?"
I see his eyelid flicker a little, as Gailen's hand comes down on my shoulder, gently pulling me back. He looks at me with eyes that are so expressive, forced to be so with his lifelong affliction.
Stay back, those eyes say. Let the others do their work.
And so they do, the stretcher laid out, Krun hauled carefully atop it. It's lifted by the Titan and two of the stronger Phasers, Asher included, still working hard, still making up for lost time.
As we continue on, our most medically trained member conducts a quick diagnosis, telling us that his life is still in the balance. That he's inhaled a lot of smoke and, if we don't get him care soon, he could very well die.
I jog by Krun's side as we work quickly through the woods, telling him it'll all be fine, hoping that he'll hear me. Yes, we've had a troubled history, but we're all in this together now. He's a powerful warrior, a fine captain. But more than that, he was trusted by Perses.
I don't want to watch him die too.
Any further searching for survivors is abandoned, the group now fixed with a single directive. We travel as quickly as we can, no longer caring about being too careful, working through the ash-stained air as Gailen heads the troop, focusing his attentions on washing it clean as we search for the trail.
It should be clear enough, the trail through the centre of the old forest, the convoy leaving great depressions in the earth for us to follow. But not forward, not onward. No, they'll be too far by now, many many miles away. Our only real option is to reach the old camp, meet up with the carriage left behind to offer support.
A doubting part of me wonders if it'll still be there, though I know I'm being overly cynical. They're hardly likely to leave two Heralds behind, and I know for certain that they'll be fully aware we're out here. For the second time that night and morning, I find myself searching for the way back, though under very different circumstances. On the stretcher, Krun's breathing grows heavy, his lungs likely lined with ash. He coughs occasionally, trying to bring something up, his lips bubbling with black tar, his nostrils filled with soot.
It seems to take an age, but we eventually come upon the trail, clearly marked as expected, and begin hurrying down it in the opposite direction. The only mercy we find is that, somehow, we've ventured quite far along it already, the area growing quickly familiar as we race towards the dead forest's edge.
In the mists ahead, with the morning still young, the blessed sight of the carriage finally comes into view. A couple of our Phasers speed towards it, calling out 'friend' as the defending soldiers prime themselves to shoot.
By the time we arrive, the rear of the carriage has already been prepared for Krun's arrival, a medic on hand to provide aid with a portable workstation filled with her tools.
As Krun is hauled on, and the medic gets to work, I finally drop to the ground, exhausted and relieved. The carriage left behind is substantial, one of the troop carriers capable of accommodating many dozens of men. Even with Krun being treated at the back, there should be plenty of space for our troop of volunteers, and the soldiers left back here to await us.
One of them comes up to me now, as Hestia drops to the ground beside me, puffing out a long sigh. The man hands us a cup of water each, which I choose to drink, and Hestia uses for an impromptu shower, tossing the water directly into her face.
"Long night," she says to me, gesturing to the soldier to fetch more.
"Long night," I repeat, staring out dully.
I look lazily to the woods once more, dreading the fact that we have to go through them again. And around us, at this huge empty space, the grasslands churned up and destroyed by our presence. It's the first time I've seen a camp after the army has departed. It's an ugly reminder of the impact we make as we roll inexorably on.
Yet this will be the last of it. When we reach our next stop, it'll be the end of the line.
Nowhere else to go, but directly into the storm.
90
The journey to catch up with the convoy is tense, danger feeling like it might spring upon us at any time. Passing through the empty, desolate woods once more, I hide away within the carriage, trying to catch up on some rest as we go. As our soldiers sit atop it, watching for any lurking threat, I try my best to avoid even looking out of the window, sitting instead on an uncomfortable wooden bench, trying to let the motion of the carriage send me off to sleep.
Beside me, Hestia sits, looking weary, though unwilling to drop off herself, as if doing so would be foolish when alone, as we are, in enemy territory. To that end, Herald Gailen continues to stay on guard and high alert, his pools of energy seeming inexhaustible as he stays at the front with the driver, who guides the carriage along using his telekinetic powers.
At the rear of the main interior, the medic continues to work on Krun, doing what she can. I watch her work from the corner of my eye, as I sit there trying to relax. Occasionally, I ask how he's doing, and she offers a noncommittal response. After an hour or so, however, my question attracts something more positive.
"He's going to live," she tells me. "He'll scar permanently on his face, and his airways are badly burned, but he should be fine soon enough. Lady Eloise will be able to see to that."
I smile weakly and thank her, and suddenly my troubles start to ease a little. Sitting back, I feel my mind beginning to shut off, the engines cooling down. I feel my head rocking to one side, my eyelids pulled down as if by weights. And then, without knowing it, I fall off to sleep.
I wake with a bump some time later, feeling a little fresher, if uncomfortable and achy all over. To my slight embarrassment, I find that my head has spent much of that time resting on Hestia's shoulder, her dirty combat robes displaying a line of drool that extends from the top of her arm, right down to her waist.
I lick my lips and rub my mouth, looking at the wet stain. "Was that...me?" I croak.
She nods, not looking entirely impressed, though probably recognising that every garment worn within this carriage is going to need a severe wash anyway.
"I been out long?" I look out of the nearest window, blinking the mist from my eyes. I let out a breath, a hopeful smile lifting on my face at the sight. "We're out of the woods," I say. "Oh, thank the Prime..."
"Have been for a while," Hestia says, her voice a little dull
and flat. "You've been out for hours."
I turn to her. "Hours!"
She nods. "Hours. Spent most of it nuzzling my shoulder. I'm starting to like you, Amber, but perhaps let's take it slower, yeah?"
I cringe at the comment, though appreciate the light delivery. "Sorry, you could have just pushed me off, you know."
"I did. Several times. You were like a lost dog each time, sniffing its way home." She manages a smile. "I didn't mind, really. You looked about ready to pass out. Figured I'd be nice for once."
"Thanks. And...I do feel better. My shoulder's here to repay the compliment any time you like." I grin and look again to the window, sending my eyes over the lands beyond. The black woods have been replaced with lush areas of vegetation. Fields and thickets, expansive plains. The sound of birdsong fills the air, a freshness rising from the grass as we pass by. I shake my head, feel a brief moment of joy. "I felt like we'd never get out of those woods," I say. "Do you think we're nearly there?"
I turn back to her, and find a smile on her face. The sort of smile that renders her attractive, if only briefly, before the scowl and the intensity return. "Just around the corner, or so I'm told," she says. "One of the soldiers up top is a scout. He said he's seen the city, knows where we'll be making camp." She points out of the window, where a channel of grassland works between a couple of hills, one on either side. "Just through that gap and around to the left, apparently," she says. "There's an open area with good natural defences and lookout points on all sides. From certain angles, you can see the city far away." She takes a breath. "We're nearly there, Amber."
My sleep, it appears, came at just the right time, giving me some energy to enjoy this seminal moment. It seems a small thing, almost, but after so long on the road, and with all we've just been through, finding a permanent spot to make camp isn't something I'm going to sniff at.
Face to the window, sniffing the air, I watch as we enter the channel, already churned up by the passing convoy some time ago, and move down the short valley. In the far distance, I can just about see the mountains that harboured the woods at their feet, standing tall and proud in the late morning air. No clouds cover their tips, the morning as bright and clear as anything. It's revitalising to be out in the open air again, looking at the clear sun above.
For a second, I almost forget why we're here. For just that moment, I forget we're at war.
Then, with some measure of cruel revenge, my mind tortures me with that wicked recollection. Forgetting, even for a split second, only serves to deliver the gut punch when our true purpose comes back to mind. And while Perses ever made sure to temper my expectations, to clarify my likely involvement here, now I know I'll be right in the thick of it. Oh, I thought many times how my participation would be minimal. I don't think anyone can say or think that anymore.
With my smile briefly fading, I resolve to bring it back, to not let this moment be defeated by such miserable thoughts. I can't let negativity drive me now. Strength is my ally, and I need to be tough. I need to hand the reins back over to the fire. When I'm fully rested and fed, and back to full strength, the beast within will start to show me the way.
We round the corner, working through the valley and coming into view of the great space ahead. The first signs we see are of little dugouts and watchtowers, fortifications being fashioned for our Farsights and other Sensors to dwell. There will be many of them, I'm sure, littering the area around the camp, those up upon the hillsides and natural viewing points of most value to our cause.
We roll onwards, moving further along, and I see a greater concentration of men and machines coming into view. My eyes blink hard and then widen, quite staggered by what I see. What was once a series of carriages, varying in shape and size, is quickly becoming a full blown village, a hundred or more buildings strong. I knew each carriage had the capacity to see itself rearranged, but this is something quite unexpected. And around them all, encircling the entire camp, I see thick rods being dug into the ground, spaced out evenly and forming a wide perimeter.
I nudge Hestia, watching on. "What are those?" I ask, as more of the thick metal pillars are hauled from the cargo carriages and moved into position.
"Portable shield placements," she says casually.
I turn to her. "What?"
She shrugs. "You haven't seen them before? We use them in Olympus to guard off certain roads and buildings. They link together, creating an energy barrier that stops people getting through. It's pretty effective at stopping most weapons. It'll help keep us safe here in case they try to attack."
I listen, quite shocked. "We...we have that sort of technology? Then why don't we have more effective guns?" I ask, quite bewildered. "They certainly do," I add, nodding out of the window in the direction I assume Haven to be.
"Well...we do," Hestia says, as if it's common knowledge. "We have more powerful weapons, Amber. We just haven't used them yet."
"What? Why?"
"They're more cumbersome. Hard to manufacture in small size. And frankly, we haven't really had the opportunity. They're not great for close quarter combat, like back in the woods. Better for sieges and things like that."
"Things like that? What's like a siege, Hestia?"
Again, she shrugs, and then turns back to look out of the window. I sense she has no answer, and is fed up of my questioning.
I'm not too bothered right now, my eyes flicking back as well as we rumble closer to the camp. It's a hive of activity as the thing is fashioned into something that will house us, potentially, for some time. Obviously, I have no real experience of all this, nor any profound knowledge. All I know is that these sorts of sieges were common many hundreds, even thousands of years ago, before modern day weaponry became far too effective for such short-range and, well, archaic forms of warfare.
We may be hundreds of years on from that, of course, but we've regressed in many ways. Though, as far as I see it, to lose the sort of super weapons that could decimate an entire city from thousands of miles away isn't so much of a regression, as a progression towards something more positive. Yes, we still have certain technologies that will enable us to attack from range, I'm sure, but nothing that will render the entire city of Haven a pile of rubble with a single strike.
I'm happy for that, despite the fact that we'll lose lives as a result. No one here, surely, wishes to take out the innocent residents of the city in their entirety. Certainly, I'm sure that was never Perses's intention. We are here to overcome their military, reduce that particular threat, and perhaps take control of the city and its structure, offering protection, even, to the citizens who live within, once we do.
Were we to begin attacking innocents without mercy, wouldn't that make us as bad as the barbarians who storm these lands? As bad as the Cure, marching around, spreading their disease of barbarism and death.
Oh, I have my doubts, of course, about how Herald Kovas intends to go about things. But surely he's not so cruel as to see to the genocide of a whole people? Surely he wouldn't sanction such a thing, if the opportunity came?
It's telling that I have to even question it. Yes, some civilian loss will be acceptable, I'm sure, unavoidable really in conflicts of this kind, but that cannot be the intention. In an ideal world, perhaps, such events would require that both parties gather all their forces, draw up their battle plans, and meet upon the open battlefield in the fairest contest of all.
That will not happen, not here. Haven will take advantage of what they have, and rightly so. Grand walls and battlements, and probably powerful defensive weapons, are something they will not waste.
The camp grows ever closer, making me impressed, at least, at how efficiently it's being laid out. Though Olympus has never attempted anything of this scale, they have evidently prepared well for such a thing. It tells me, quite clearly, that conquest has been on the mind back there for some time. Oh, they tried to lay this out as merely a means of preventing a future attack, overcoming an already weakened Haven before they march north
and attempt the very same to us.
That surely isn't the case. This has been in the works for some time, that is now clear enough to see. It isn't so much that they chose to pre-empt the Haven threat, knowing that they've been weakened by their own war with the Cure. No, this is simply a matter of taking advantage of that fact, stepping into the possible power vacuum that has been fashioned here in the south.
Conquest, I think to myself, still torn over the whole thing. To conquer these lands to make them safe? To bring all of these regions under the same rule, consolidate them as a single entity?
If it leads to a lasting peace, to a more prosperous world for all, then perhaps it is the best way forward. I've seen the world now, and I've heard many accounts of the villainy, the cruelty, the danger that breeds all over. Wiping that out may just be an honourable cause. The only problem is, we have to start here, with a people who, by all accounts, are none of the above.
A base, I think, to begin spreading our control of the south.
I nod, thinking about the logic of it all.
"Yep, that'll be it," I say, whispering to myself out loud.
Hestia appears to hear me. "What will be it?" she asks idly.
I turn to her. "Oh, this whole thing. It's about conquest, right? Taking control of a strong base down here. Using it to help spread our influence around the south."
She frowns. "Long term...maybe," she says. "But this is just about getting in first, stopping Haven before they can..."
"Yeah, maybe," I cut in. "That's what they say to us. Think it's just a bit easier to digest."
"You wavering again?" she says, peering at me. "I thought you'd gotten past all that."
"Oh, no wavering here," I say casually. "I'm not judging anything, to be honest. Just trying to think rationally and realistically, that's all. I mean, look at that base, Hestia. It's like it was designed specifically to siege this city. It hasn't exactly been built overnight. That takes a hell of a lot of planning and preparation."
