by T. C. Edge
Then, suddenly, a great pacing wind comes right at us, drawing away some of our heat. We look up and see the armoured Neoroman there, whipping his hands around as Gailen does, drawing the nearby air into a frenzied tornado.
I share a glance with Elian, and we quickly refocus, pressing more fire through our blood and up into our palms. The wind is strong, though weakens as it nears us, battling with our heat, two elements at war. Adopting a strong stance, we once more stretch out our palms, sending spouts of molten flame in the Wind Elemental's direction. It rushes towards him, but gets caught in the wind, swirling off to one side as he continues to near.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the black-clad shadow waiting, ready to pounce if our shields should weaken sufficiently, watching us like a hawk set to swoop upon its prey.
The Neoroman keeps on coming, his body surrounded by a raging vortex, growing larger and larger as he comes. It hauls up whatever loose debris sits on the ground, dragging small hunks of rock, shrubs, corpses in along with it. They add an extra protection to the man as we fire again, though see the same result, our stream of flame unable to combat the ferocity of the wind as it gets near, spiralling off to one side and melting into the earth.
"Splay fingers!" shouts Elian. I glance across and see him widening his fingers, little charges of golden flame spiralling around them, building at the tips. He stretches out both hands, fingers splayed and separated, directing them off to one side. I do the same opening my fingers, turning them to the other.
"Now!" he calls.
For a third time, we let the fire rush from out of us, this time working not from our palms, but from the tips of each finger. Ten lines of yellow death rush from my tips. Ten do the same from his. The swirling mass of wind tries to gobble them all up, but can't manage them all, so widely spread as they are, rushing towards the Neoroman as a great net of burning, golden lava.
He has no choice but to halt the swirling of the vortex around him, lifting his hands up and sending the wind with it. The fiery tendrils turn with the wind, just about avoiding him as they're launched up into the air, set to rain down upon the battlefield, killing whatever they hit.
The slight distraction creates an opening. Suddenly defenceless, without the wind to protect him, we boost ourselves towards the Elemental from a world away, building our heat as we go. I see his eyes widen as we come, a ball of flame, melting and scorching everything as we go. He can't react or move in time. In a split second, we're right up ahead of him, watching as the heat engulfs him, as he drops to the floor, wriggling and writhing in pain, his metal armour melting into his flesh, entombing him in silver forever.
I let out a breath, victorious, and turn my eyes to the shadow nearby. No longer. All I see is a streak of black, winding away as he disappears to another part of the field, seeking a battle he can win.
"There are more of them out here," Elian says, panting lightly from the exertion. "They can't all be as powerful as him."
I nod, my mind working hard. Around us, I get the sense that our men are beginning to drive the enemy back, the addition of the Heralds and Chosen, or our finest warriors under Kovas's charge, helping to turn the tide, force the Havenites back.
I don't have much opportunity. I don't have much time...
"We should make sure the camp is protected," I say. "Kovas and the rest can defend the plains."
Elian frowns at me, unsure. "The fighting seems to be here, Amber," he says. "There are more Neoromans, more of those soldiers in black. We can help take them out..."
I shake my head, thinking hard. "I...I saw a large contingent coming from the woods over there." I lift my flaming finger, point it towards a thicket of trees a few hundred metres away. "Neoromans. They were headed for the camp. If they break through..."
"Right," Elian says, suddenly alert to the threat. To the...lie. "Right, let's go."
"Er...OK. This way."
We move off again, boosting through the air, scorching the grasses as we go. A few small chasms lie ahead, forcing us to speed and leap, leaving trails of flickering flame behind us as we cross the gap and land on the other side, the grass withering to black as we do so.
Gunfire comes our way, attracted by our light, only flicking off our shields as it holds firm, flashing with each connection and deflection. I have little mind to care of such things now. These men are of no concern.
We're gone in a flash, though Elian sends out a few spouts of fire to ward off those trying to come too close. I keep my eyes, however, upon the way ahead, hoping not to run into another powerful Elemental, or anyone else who might hinder us.
We pass by another ridge, leaping the ten metre gap as the flames drive us on, and I feel a heavy pulse rush through the air as we go. Landing, I look down through the canyon as it opens back out into the fields below, the earth seeming to shimmer and thud. There, I see the culprit, the gigantic frame of Atlas charging inwards with a grouping of his own men, heading right for a team of Neoromans, their armour twinkling under the rising sun.
Elian stops. "We should help..."
He begins making his way towards the edge of the ridge, ready to drop down and hurry through the ravine. I stop him once more, and direct his eyes back up.
There, a figure stands supreme upon the verdant grass, his armour more magnificent than the rest, his combat cape a deeper, more alluring shade of crimson. Fixed to the spot, he stands ahead of his men as Atlas and his own warriors, several huge Titans included, shake the earth with their charge.
Elian hesitates upon seeing the mighty shape of Ares, and I shake my head.
"They're done for," I say. "Do you really want to join them?"
Elian's eyes swing to mine, his brows turned down low, a look of shock in his eyes.
"You mean to let them be killed?" he says. "We could help, Amber. Together, we could...we could kill Ares. We'd be heroes forever."
I lightly shake my head. "I don't want to be a hero, Elian," I say.
"And you'd be a coward instead?"
I go quiet. There's no answer in me. This isn't cowardice, not really.
No, it's Jude. I need to save him. I need to get him out.
The thundering charge of the Titans continues, several firing silver strands of burning energy from massive guns as they go. I look down again, as the Neoromans duck and take cover, firing back, all of them ready to clash. And Ares, standing as lord of the battlefield, waiting and relishing the battle to come.
"I'm not going to stand here and watch Atlas get killed, Amber," Elian shouts, his voice rising over the din. "He's a Chosen. He's one of us. We can't just stand here and do nothing."
He stares at me again, hoping to see my resolve weaken. And all I do is stare back, hiding the turmoil within. Proud, even, to hear Elian speak like this, to see such bravery in the face of such peril.
"That's your choice?" he says. "After all this, after everything Perses taught you, that is your choice?!"
He waits again, desperate, his entire body shivering, the flames teasing and licking around his flesh, red and orange and a bright, burning gold.
"Elian," I say softly. I begin shaking my head. "I can't."
The expression on his face is not of hate, or anger, but a profound disappointment. The face of a man who thought more of me, better of me. Who...who needs me out here.
He begins to nod, the movement of his head slowly evolving into a shake. "I'm going," he says, his voice dull. He takes a step back. "I'm going there to fight."
Gradually, our bond begins to weaken as he steps away, the fire lit between us starting to go out. I feel my energy wane as I lose his, feel suddenly vulnerable, naked without him. And yet still, I don't move.
I...I just can't.
Then, with a final look of regret, he turns and moves to the edge of the fissure, dropping down inside, slowing his fall with a burst of flame as he hits the ground below.
I watch him go, torn, broken.
Out there, facing Ares, Elian will surely die.
Oh, I wanted free will, I wanted to make a choice. And now here I stand, with a dreadful one before me, watching as Elian rushes into the fray.
But I've made my decision, I know. And now I have to stick with it.
With a heavy breath of hurt and loss, I turn, my eyes leaving Elian for perhaps the final time, and rush off towards the camp.
107
I'd lied about seeing a large contingent running for the camp. I'd done it only to get Elian to come with me, knowing my goal was to find a way for Jude to escape.
Yet as I reach it I find death, bodies of our border guards lying dead in the dirt, execution style gunshot wounds in their heads. I slow, searching left and right, but see no enemy soldiers. Ahead, a portion of the shield has been deactivated, providing an easy pathway through.
Why?
I move in tentatively, the main fighting still roaring down on the plains below. It's growing stronger now once more, as though more of our troops have been pressed through the front wall to go and help drive the Havenites off. Here, within the camp, I can see so few. Only those too frightened to go out and fight, losing themselves as Hestia warned they would...
I'm not interested in them. I have only one task in mind. I turn, rushing through the camp, heading straight for the workers' encampment a little way off. I boost myself once more, no time to waste as I go, speeding around barracks, passing the infirmary where I imagine Krun will still be, hurrying onwards through training areas, past the stockades...
I hit something, tripping up in the dirt, my body going flying and face planting into the mud.
I rise, quickly, the breath pressed out of me, wiping the mud from my face and turning my eyes down to see...to see one of the shadow soldiers there on the floor. My eyes look at him in shock, blinking, my nerves on edge. Then another appears in the corner of my eye, a second black-cloaked soldier lying in the dirt nearby.
Were they the ones who got through the shield? I wonder, my thundering heart relaxing as I realise they're already dead.
I think on it for only a second as I send a pulse of fire through me, melting off the dirt and mud, my breathing still slightly laboured after being winded from the fall. I take a final, deep breath, and prepare to move off. But as I do I hear something...
Voices. Coming from inside the stockade. The sound of a man and a woman.
I tense, suddenly, my eyes flashing to the door as it opens, readying myself to fight once again, the flames swirling through my blood, building a renewed shield of fire around me.
I do so just in time as two figures come through the door, my lungs still struggling to resume regular breathing.
The person who meets my eyes doesn't help...
A girl, no older than I am, eyes of a shining, alluring hazel, hair of a similar hue, glossy and bright. She fixes me with those intense, keen eyes, an old man to her side, chin and cheeks dusted with a dirty white beard, hair lank and unwashed, body covered in little more than rags.
The telepath...
For a moment we just stare at one another as I stand there, in the open, my body shimmering with fire, hers humming with a vibrant energy.
It seems to last an age, the battle beyond falling silent, the world falling still. Eventually, and blessedly, it's she who speaks first.
"I have no quarrel with you," she says, her voice calm, direct, speaking of a young woman in complete control.
My hands fizz to my side, buzzing with fire. Her eyes dart down, quick as anything, spotting the movement.
"We're not enemies, Amber," she goes on. "Not me and you. I can see that. You're not like the rest of them."
Her eyes lift again, staring right at me. I sense something, some attempted intrusion, and send a flush of fire through my veins to cut her off.
"Get out of my head," I growl, my body flashing with flame. "I won't let you in."
"I'm not trying to get in," she says, keeping her cool. "Just...calm. I don't mean you any harm."
I look at her, her arm around the old man to her side, his head hanging low, body looking weak. She's here to save him, I think. That's why she's here...
"What...what happened to them," I ask, my eyes flashing on the dead shadows, lying outside the stockade.
"We...had a conflict of interests," she says, opening up a little, her voice starting to lighten. I see the shade of a smile work up on her face. "I never liked those sorts anyway. Have plenty of history with their kind."
"Their...kind?" I ask, confused. "Aren't you...on the same side?"
"Mostly, nowadays," she hums, her hazel eyes so dazzling, so beautiful. "Like I said, we just had a disagreement about something. I didn't have a choice."
I frown, trying to work her out, interested to hear more. "You...you were the one who killed Herald Nestor, weren't you?" I say. "You and your friend..."
Her eyes darken, her chin slowly dipping into a nod. "He had it coming," she growls. "And, technically, he killed himself."
"Why?" I ask, so intrigued by this girl, by what she can do, what she's done.
"Protection," she says. "He didn't want me getting into his head. Finding out his secrets."
"Knowledge," I say, nodding. "It's power."
She smiles. "It certainly is." Her eyes work towards the front of the camp, the wall in the distance, the heavy fighting beyond. "You not interesting in all that?" she asks. "I don't take you as a coward, Amber."
"I'm not," I say, my voice tightening. "I've just got more important things to do."
"Right." She gazes at me again, her eyes seeming to flash. I feel a sudden snipe in my head, like a snake striking from the grass, hidden until the last moment.
I pulse with fire again and start lifting my hands, the flames swirling around my fingers in her direction, a defensive reaction.
"Hey hey, calm," she says, lifting her own spare hand. "I was just...interested. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm. I'm just curious by nature. It's...a problem."
I slowly lower my arms, though keep on watching her suspiciously. Somehow, I feel no threat from her. I don't feel as though she's my enemy.
"Same," I say quietly. "It can, get you into trouble."
She smiles, looking at me interestedly. "So...it's a boy is it?" She nods, turning her eyes towards the worker's encampment. "You're here to save him. Seems you have a...complicated past, Amber."
"How do you know?" I breathe, startled by her incisive gifts. "You got all that from a tiny flash into my head?!"
"Just an impression," she says. "I...I thought I was right about you. You didn't seem like one of them when we met on the plains the other day. Now, it makes sense. You're not one of them, are you? You're so much more. So much...better." She nods again in the direction of the worker's camp. "You should probably get going. That Herald Kovas is an odious creature. Jude won't be safe here for long..."
"Jude," I whisper, cutting in. "You...you know his name?"
"You're more open and honest than you think. Sign of a good heart." She slowly steps forward down the steps, taking the old man with her. "He'll be safe in Haven," she says softly, her expression warm and inviting, her body language completely unthreatening. "Like Lady Orlando told you, there are no slaves there, only good, innocent people. I'll make sure Jude's safe, I promise. If that's what you want. And...the offer's open to you as well, if you want to join him."
She smiles again, a quite lovely face, and then takes a few steps away. I watch her go, half mesmerised. There is something...magical about her.
"Brie," I say, my voice croaking.
She turns. "Yes, Amber?"
"Can I...trust you?"
She draws a breath, tilting her head a little to one side. "That depends on you," she says. "I could get in your head and make you, but that wouldn't be real now would it? I guess...it's your choice."
She smiles a final time, nods at me, and then begins moving off, heading towards the gap in the shield.
>
I continue to watch her until she moves out of sight, so transfixed by the girl.
Then, breaking the spell, I take a full breath, turn and hurry off again in the direction of the worker's camp.
108
I reach the camp in mere moments, stumbling around as I hurry through towards the billets and barracks housing the Fringers. With the war going on outside the camp, I find most of them huddled away within, sticking to the shadows of their claustrophobic accommodations, hoping for the madness to pass.
Some, however, remain outside, too curious to hide away. They stand around in little groups, staring towards the shielded perimeter, still guarded in places where the control stations sit. Those soldiers are few, however, just a smattering of them still here watching over the camp.
My presence is immediately noted as I pour inside, my flaming frame drawing all eyes towards me. The workers stare in awe and fright, wondering for a moment if I'm one of the enemy, my exact features hidden as the flames and bright light burn upon my skin.
Some rush off, scurrying like rats towards their quarters. Others drop to their knees, as though praying to their gods, hoping I'm not here to bring some terrible wrath down upon them. The remainder who do neither simply stand in surprise, staring as I rush about, searching for my quarry.
I head towards the barrack I know him to be staying in. I arrive at the door and pull it open, all but ripping the thing of its hinges. Inside I find a heap of unwashed slaves, all squashed in, frightened out of their skin.
"Jude," I call. "Jude, are you in here!"
I get no answer.
"Does anywhere know where Jude is," I say, trying again. "Anyone?!"
Again, no answer, only hums and mumbles of shock and confusion.
I waste no further time in there, turning and rushing back off. My voice fills the camp now, calling out as I continue my search, hurrying about from barrack to barrack, speeding between the carriages.
I come to a halt at a familiar spot, stumbling and sliding as I see Ralph upon the steps of the infirmary, adopting his perpetual position there.
