by T. C. Edge
"Alfred," he says with a whisper, making sure no one nearby can hear. "That is my name. Alfred."
I take it in, and assign it to his face, connecting the two together.
"It...yeah, you look like an Alfred," I say. "Alfred the Overseer. There's a nice ring to that."
“That may be true, but please be sure to use it only in private. When Lady Dianna is around, that's fine, and to be perfectly honest, you can use it in front of Gailen as well. After all, he can't exactly repeat it, and he's another whom I rather enjoy."
"And if it slips out and people hear?"
"Then I will be most displeased," he says, the twinkle still dancing in his eye. "Or...not. Disappointed, perhaps, to lose some of my mystique, but I can always go around erasing the knowledge from the heads of anyone who hears." He grins. "I've had to do it before. Perhaps you already knew my name once, only for me to steal the knowledge back."
I smile, though the suggestion is quite troubling in theory. I have no real distrust of the Over...of Alfred, anymore, and particularly now that I know his real name. Yet, he isn't the only one with such power. In the wrong hands, it could be extremely dangerous. And if the enemy has it...
I look up at him in concern at that, and he seems to know - of course he knows - what might be troubling me.
"That's why I'm here, Amber," he says. "I don't want to sound lofty, but there aren't many with the capacity for telepathy that I possess."
"And the girl?" I ask. "That girl they spoke about back in Olympus, the one who overcame Herald Nestor? Isn't she someone we should be worried about?"
"It's possible," he says, pensive. "Yet her youth would suggest her power is raw, not yet entirely under her control. Much like with you, Amber. Great power and potential yes, but, as yet, little experience. She is, obviously, a key target for us, as is her ally on that particular adventure they had to the north. However, as we already know, they were very nearly defeated by the Cure. That does give us some insight into their frailties. Such an army would, I have little doubt, been easily defeated should they have marched upon our lands."
"You really think that?"
"Yes, I do. As you know, I saw into the minds of those Cure soldiers we captured, and saw the extent of the damage they did. Haven were extremely close to suffering a devastating loss. We speak, here, about not knowing exactly what their capabilities are, but that does give us some idea. And the damage done to the battlements and the city itself will take time to reforge and rebuild. It is yet to be seen just how well they have managed that."
"Unless they have their own Forgers," I say, shrugging. "And it's been a while now since they defeated the Cure. It's probably made them more wary of attack. They've probably recruited an entirely new army back there..."
"Again, we don't exactly know, but logic would suggest that, with all they've been through, they are weaker than they certainly appeared to be during their ambush last night. And, as far as we know, they have no Forgers. They are a particular class of telekinetic that we have carefully cultivated over the years."
He looks at me with a smile that provides comfort at a time when I need it. My feverish questioning is clearly evidence of my concern. They killed Perses after all. What does that say about their capabilities?
"Fear not, young Amber. We will unravel the truth soon. And I have been working hard to ensure that the threat of telepathy isn't one we have to be overly concerned with."
"How?" I ask softly.
"By designing natural barriers, so to speak, in the minds of our men. It helps to increase their immunity from external mental intrusion, making them much harder to read and possess. I have been working on it during our time on the road. You may have seen me moving around the camp, speaking with the men? Well, my true intention wasn't merely to chatter, and be my usual ebullient, affable self, but to go to work. I've covered the majority of our soldiers by now. We are well primed to deal with any telepathic threat that might come out way."
I listen, finding it all quite unfathomable what he, and those like him, can do. To read, even control people's minds; that is a frightening ability.
"And, have you done that with me, without me knowing?" I ask, still a little unnerved by it all, at the idea that free will isn't always free, after all. That it may be created by someone else, forcing you to act in ways you otherwise wouldn't.
Believe things that, maybe, you wouldn't have before...
"I haven't," he says, shaking his head. "You know already that Fire-Bloods have a natural immunity to telepathy. I can read your mind, yes, but only when you're willing. I'd be hard pressed to get through your defences if you chose instead to deny me."
"Well, good," I say. "It's the most dangerous power in my book, what you've got. Are you going to use it more than defensively now that we're here?"
"How so?"
"I don't know," I say, thinking. "Try to turn the enemy against one another or something. What about those men we captured. Could you control them? We could release them, and then send them to Haven to...I don't know...open the gates or something? Destroy some of their defences."
The Overseer listens politely to my ideas, stumbling off my tongue, before answering with a more realistic look at things.
"Unfortunately," he says, his tone generously not being too dismissive, "those aren't real options. The men we caught were wild. They aren't proper Haven soldiers, and may not be friendly with them at all. Secondly, well, they are quite unruly and hard to control. I could try, perhaps, but they'd likely break free of my mental constraints as soon as they got far enough away, or enough time elapses. You see, Amber, it really depends on the person, and isn't an exact science. Some people, such as you and other Fire-Bloods, are very hard to get through to. Others, the more simple-minded souls, can be made to do just about anything. In the end, my impact may be major, or minimal, depending on how things shape out. I am, after all, just an old man with a mildly powerful mind. If I left the safety of this camp, I would be extremely vulnerable."
"Hmmmm, I guess. You are over a hundred years old, after all."
We grin at each other, like a couple of kids in the classroom, passing disparaging messages about the teacher back and forth.
"Right, well, come on then," he says. "Enough chatter out here. Let's find out what Herald Kovas has to say."
Together, we turn towards the command centre, and walk past the guarding soldiers, stepping inside to join the meeting.
92
The command centre, which I briefly looked into when I arrived not long ago, rumbles with the sound of voices as we walk down the short corridor and through the threshold inside.
There, we find the usual suspects sitting around a table, Herald Kovas at the head and on his feet. Behind him, where the rather more high-tech interactive screen sits on the wall, is a structure in the shape of a large circle, seen from above.
The circle appears to be separated into four distinct quarters, with a much smaller circle towards the core. Within that core, is a spiral shape that winds inwards towards the absolute centre. Everywhere, little squares spread in some sort of geometric grid pattern. Though I haven't yet laid eyes on it, I can only assume that this is an aerial map of the city of Haven.
"Ah," says Herald Kovas, as we wander in. "Amber, do sit down. Thank you for fetching her, Master Overseer."
I look across to see that Herald Gailen has already arrived. He hovers at the back, away from the rest, observing like an auditor overseeing a teacher in class. At the table, meanwhile, I find my gaze turning, as always, towards the figure of Elian. He sits, his back to me, nearest to Kovas, his armour hardly glowing at all. If anything, there's a coldness to him, his Frost-Blood abilities once more seeming to reflect his dark mood.
I find myself staring at the back of his head for a long moment, half wanting him to turn and see me. He doesn't. While the rest look upon us as we enter, Elian stays staring steadfastly to the front, lost in his own dark reverie.
"You haven't missed much,
" comes Kovas's rough voice. He looks to the screen. "This is a map of Haven, in case you haven't worked it out. It's an earlier version, from quite some time ago, though is the only accurate schematic we have." He points to areas around the wall. "You can see that from these outer defences. They have been developed over the years, from what our scouts report, though their recent fighting has also meant that certain points have been newly rebuilt. There's also the High Tower, the central structure of the city, that used to sit at its core. This was the hub, the beating heart of Haven. Now it is gone." He points again to the map, where I see a single structure right in the middle. It's hard to gauge, from an aerial view, just how tall it is, but it's certainly wide enough to support a building many, many storeys high.
"We've been referring to this map through the journey during our meetings." He looks to me. "Herald Amber, you may have seen Herald Perses with one in Black Thunder."
I shake my head. "I...don't think so."
"Either way, it's use is limited by its age. Certain parts are outdated, and their recent conflict with the Cure has certainly altered the state of the city somewhat. We can expect them to have suffered significant structural damage behind those walls. Certainly, this has been corroborated by the Overseer, who witnessed the very same in the minds of the Cure captives we are holding back in Olympus."
He looks to the Overseer, who nods to confirm. What he saw, however, we know to be quite some time ago now. That evidence isn't as reliable as we might hope.
"Their process of rebuilding" Kovas goes on, "will likely have focused first on making the city safe, before bringing it back to full health behind those walls. It's also possible that they have regressed to Inner Haven - that's what they call this inner ring - for security." He taps at the screen again, referencing the inner wall. "Again, the Overseer has discovered that to be the case, at least during the fighting against the Cure army. With their population depleted, and their resources growing more limited, it seems the sensible choice. The inner part of the city is also the traditional home of their leadership, and their privileged..."
I listen as he drones on, that gruff voice of his certainly not made for long speeches. It's telling how he acts here, in front of us, compared to the manner in which he addressed the men a few days ago. Back then, when we caught that bizarre creature, and those wild, barbarian men, he'd been quick to denounce Haven as a place of devilry, somewhere to be cleansed.
He isn't speaking in such terms now. He's treating them like the more sophisticated people we know them to be, with a class system, a varied political history, and potentially highly capable defences and military forces. Not this savage people who'd be in league with mutant men and barbarians, but a well developed society that will be hard to break down.
I don't particularly like the duplicity. The men are going to find out soon - if they haven't already - just how hardened the Havenites are.
Still, he does continue to stand behind his belief that our forces are far larger, and more powerful, than their own, something that certainly remains a possibility.
"That trick last night, that cowardly ambush, shows just what sort of people they are," he says, snorting angrily. "They have limited numbers, and limited power. There's no force on this earth that can overcome ours in a fair fight."
He puffs his chest out in irritating fashion. I find words bubbling to my lips that I cannot gulp back down.
"Isn't it more about how you use what you have, rather than how much you have?" I ask. "You know, quality over quantity."
He looks at me angrily, before his face softens out. It's all very contrived as a false smile appears on his thin lips.
"And we have both on our side, child," he says, subtly undermining me without alienating me entirely. "None of you should take last night as anything more than a one time event. We will not be caught napping again. We will not suffer defeat again. I have high expectations that we achieve victory within mere days..."
I can't help it. I just can't. "Based on what?" I ask, my voice flat, my golden eyes staring.
He turns on me again. "Excuse me?"
"You have these expectations. I'm just wondering...why? You said it yourself, you don't actually know what their capabilities are. I mean," I say, looking around the group, checking to find any eyes of support, "this is all rather...speculative, isn't it?"
Mostly, the eyes I see are neutral, not showing allegiance to one way of thinking or another, but rather enjoying the debate. And, in certain cases, enjoying seeing Kovas put on the spot like this, by a girl no less, and one he's never really wanted around.
Lady Dianna, perhaps the most authoritative figure remaining here now, adds her voice to proceedings.
"She has a point, Kovas," she says. "You seem awfully confident of Haven's abilities, or lack thereof. Now if you know something we don't, please enlighten us."
Kovas bristles up there under the lights, the first signs of sweat appearing on his shaven dome.
"It is based off of logic and reasoning, Dianna," he says, highly on the defensive. "We have all come to the same conclusion, myself and Avon, and even Perses before..." He shakes his head. "Even the Prime believed that the Havenites would be weak and there for the taking after what they've been through; infighting between their own people, followed by a sudden attack by a Cure army ten thousand strong. It is the Prime themselves who sanctioned this venture after all. To disagree with me now is to disagree with them. Is that what you're doing, Dianna?"
"No, Kovas," she says smoothly. "We all bought into the same thing." She looks around. Everyone nods. "I am just trying to ascertain if you've learned anything new. We all know of the troubles Haven have faced, and have all heard the Overseer's testimony and what he learned from those Cure barbarians. However, that war was many, many months ago now. We have to accept that things may have changed here in the meantime, and that the city is coming back to full strength. They may even be more dangerous now, given their recent past. If they become a united people under this new faction, one very much used to conflict and guerrilla warfare, evidence of which we witnessed last night, then it's quite possible that we are vastly underestimating them. In times of great hardship, a people may show their true colours. In this case, they may well have focussed on developing their military might, and city defences, as an absolute priority."
She narrows her green eyes on him, though stays very much composed. "We have been within reach of Haven for days now," she goes on, "and have sent out a number of scouting parties. I just wish to know, as we all do - have they learned anything of interest, Herald Kovas?"
I sit back, folding my arms, happy to have Dianna pick up the reins. My queries come as little more than irritating flies to be swatted away. Hers are like magnificent eagles swooping down to make a kill. Much harder to ignore.
"You know full well that useful, actionable information has been limited thus far," Kovas grunts. "However, now that we're here, we'll be able to operate with a more significant degree of efficiency and accuracy. We already have more scouting parties back out there now, and have discovered certain positions that will enable us to get a better view beyond their walls. We also have several weeks of planning behind us, and have a strategy in place that we have every intention of following. We are merely doing our due diligence first, as is critical when encountering any enemy first hand. I assure you, Lady Dianna, that we are doing the best we can. I'll have you remember that."
Dianna sighs deeply. "I'm sure you are, Kovas. Yet might I also remind you to be a little more humble. Last night may be as you say, a flash in the pan and a bit of clever opportunism from the Havenites, but it should also serve to remind us that we are all only human. Our cultures are different, yes, but our powers are all the same. Stop acting like these people are lesser than us. Not now, in war, they aren't."
A silence hits the room, Dianna's words strangely inflammatory. Even loosely heretical, which for a Chosen is quite unheard of. I find myself bunching a little, shoulders tightening as
I look upon the Chosen Phaser, quite clearly stating that which, perhaps, we all know, but are never willing to properly admit.
Eventually, Kovas speaks. Clearing his throat, he looks Dianna directly in the eye, and hardens his expression threateningly.
"I'd choose your words more carefully, Dianna," he says slowly. "We are very different to the Havenites, and to say otherwise is asinine. We exist on a higher platform, and live within the presence of the Prime. Do not tell me that we are equal to these people. I never want to hear such words from you again."
"I didn't say equal, Kovas," retorts Dianna without a moment of hesitation, fully committed to her argument. "Do not conflate things in that bulbous head of yours. I merely said that you need to be realistic here, and that they are not lesser than us in war. We may be more powerful, we may live under the glory of the Prime, but they are not to be underestimated. Perses most certainly wouldn't have done so. You'd be wise to follow in his esteemed example."
Kovas simmers ahead, his hands reaching down to the table. His eyes follow, staring. He looks as though he's set to explode. "Do not undermine me here, Dianna," he seethes. "Do not speak of Perses...so recently passed!" His words grow to a roar, eyes rising up, burning with anger. His hands, gripping the edge of the table, snap the thick wood right off, taking great chunks in his fingers. I see Dianna's body remain calm, though begin to shimmer with a coating of buzzing air, as if ready to speed off should she come under attack.
I look at the scene, knowing it would never have happened under Perses's rule. No one would dare. No one would have reason. And should Perses come under fire, should he face scrutiny, he'd have dealt with it calmly, with authority and dignity. He wouldn't roar like Kovas. He wouldn't throw such a tantrum.
I watch on, his loss more pronounced here than anywhere. He may have been our greatest weapon on the battlefield, but he was also our greatest commander and leader off it. Without him, is this what we can expect? In-fighting between our most prominent leaders? Disagreement and petty bickering when we should be most united and focused?
