by T. C. Edge
"Perses," I whisper again, turning to look upon his grizzled, pallid face.
"Yes. He waited for you to leave after burying him, and then brought him back to the city. He knew that Perses was your leader. To take him in without your knowing would have given us a tremendous advantage. And, as it turned out, that is exactly what happened. This city owes a great deal to Commander Ares for that. Along with Brie, they have turned the tide of this war in our favour."
"Brie? She got into his mind?" I ask.
"She did what I could not," Burns admits. "Herald Perses has a vast network of mental security that I simply couldn't bypass. Brie has powers and instincts I do not possess. She got inside, and discovered the plot that Perses, Kovas, and your other Heralds cooked up. That allowed us to plan our own strategy accordingly."
I pause a moment to think. Losing Perses like that...it turned out to be a greater loss than any of us could have fathomed. We were stricken by it, by the loss of our greatest warrior and commander. Yet, the truth went further, beyond his might and power and leadership. No, by losing him, our entire plan was discovered. Losing him has, in the end, led to the loss of hundreds, perhaps thousands of Olympian lives.
It pains me to think of it, though not as starkly as it perhaps might. I think more of the individuals who may have perished, rather than the vast losses to the army itself. Of Hestia, whose fate I don't yet know. Of Gailen and Dianna, who may have also fallen. Elian may be safe enough here. Jude, perhaps, will be found alive as well. And now I find that Perses, too, is still among the living.
But at what cost? His survival, it seems, has doomed our own army to failure.
Our army, I think, using the words only loosely now. I don't have an army, really. One led by Kovas isn't one I want to be part of...
"Has he woken at all?" I ask, looking to the President and Secretary Burns.
They both shake their heads. "He has been kept under since he arrived," says Burns.
"He's not going to like it when he wakes," I say, my voice tinged with a hint of concern. "To learn that his capture led to his people's defeat. I know the man well enough. He's going to feel deeply guilt-stricken by it."
"Yes, well, better that than the alternative as far as we're concerned," grunts Burns. "To lose a thousand of your own men in fair combat is a better deal, I say, than to commit total genocide against the innocent civilians of your enemy. This was the plot that he was willing to pursue. We will find it hard to forgive that here..."
The President steps forward, laying a hand on Burns's arm. It draws his eye, and some of his ire, sucking it like poison from a wound.
"But," she says, "we do wish for Perses to cooperate if such a thing is possible. Concessions will be made if they need to be. This is the task we wish for you to undertake, Amber. You must convince Perses, and your friend Elian, of the folly of those they follow. You must open their eyes to what you are already beginning to see."
She steps towards me, softening her voice a little as she closes the gap. "You are not like them, Amber. You have only been a part of this world of theirs for a short time. You have experienced the other side. The iniquity of it all. The inequality among your people. They," she says, looking to Perses, "have not."
"How do you know what they've been through?" I ask. "How do you know about Elian?"
"I searched his mind as he slept," says Burns. "Learned a little about him and his past. Perses," he breathes, shaking his head, "is a harder nut for me to crack. You must aid us in showing them the light, Amber."
"Well, if you've been in Elian's head," I say, "then you'll know that these two have a bit of...history. And both are hugely patriotic. They will not join you, no matter what I try to say. They will not turn on their own people."
"We are not expecting them to turn on them," the President says, with some passion of her own. "We are merely expecting them to fight for them, as we wish you to do. We have a sense of Perses. And we have a sense of Elian. Both harbour doubts, locked deep inside behind years of programming and manipulation. Yet both, we see, are good people. They would wish to see their own country, their own city, prosper if they could. If they could truly step back and see what has been happening, then they may find that our paths, as I told you, are aligned."
"We want the same thing," Burns says. "You know that, don't you. It's difficult, and we understand that. No one wants to be a traitor. But you would be more of a traitor to your people if you were to let them continue suffering and dying, and living a lie under the rule of a despot. The head of the snake must be cut. If peace is to prosper, then it is the only way."
"Head of the snake," I repeat with a whisper. My mind fills with a vision of the Prime, perfect, resplendent, radiant. I feel that smile working up onto my face again, quickly replaced by a look of fear, of horror, as I imagine the idea of displacing them.
I blink, heavily, coming back into the room, the joy sucked out of me like air from a vacuum.
"I...I can't," I whisper, shivering suddenly. "I can't do it..."
"Yes, you can," says the President firmly, stepping forward and taking my arm. "We will help you rid your mind of this disease that has infected it. The Prime's influence will soon be banished, and you will be able to think more clearly."
"I..."
"You can," she repeats, cutting me off before I can speak. "It is the bargain we have struck, child. Secretary Burns will help you. He will work to dismiss the chains and shackles in your mind, as he will with Elian and Perses."
I look to Burns, who nods gently. "I will do everything in my power to help you, and the others," he says.
"And...how can I trust you?" I find myself asking, my voice shaking a little. "How...how do I know you won't just take me under your own control? How do I know..."
"Look around you, Amber," the President says again, speaking with more force and venom. "Think, child! Think of everything that has happened here. You can trust us. We will not force you to do anything through unnatural means. We will merely rid your mind of what has been placed there by others. We will give you the chance to choose again. We will give you back your free will."
She looks at me with intense eyes, nodding subtly as I look back at her, my own eyes hidden behind a frown, my chin slightly dipped in nervous submission. She firms me up with a light shake of the arm, and speaks again, more softly now.
"The Olympians came here to kill us all," she says. "That is a fact you cannot get around. They subjugate your real people. That is something you cannot deny. They spread their controls through deadly, often fatal means. They harbour an ideology that is false and dangerous. All this, Amber, comes from the top. You have spoken of good people among the highest ranks of the city. Those people also need to be freed. There is no other way. So long as the Prime lives, we here, and the many other people across this vast land mass and beyond, may never be truly safe."
She turns me to look at Perses, lying on the bed, breathing slowly. "This man could be your new leader, your new champion," she whispers, her words drifting into my ear. "Imagine a city under his direction, freed of the nefarious controls and ambitions of the Prime. Just take a moment, and imagine it. Think of how much better it would be."
Slowly, through the mist and the shroud, a vision begins to clear within my mind. A vision of a brighter, more inclusive future. A vision where my purpose, my true goals, can be accomplished. Where I can finally make the sort of difference I've always yearned for.
Jude. Lilly. My parents. My grandmother. We could all be one again. No longer lesser citizens. No longer lesser beings.
I can help to strip that away, as they have already done here, and usher in a new chapter in the story of Olympus.
A smile appears once more, more gentle, more real. A smile to accompany that vision.
A vision that is mine.
I turn to look at President Orlando, confirming once more what I've already said. "I will help you, Madam President," I say quietly, but with a newfound resolve. "If you help me save
those I care about, I will help you win this war."
She smiles, and turns to Secretary Burns. "Well," she says. "Then let us begin."
114
I stand, alone, in front of Elian, smiling as I look at his sleeping face. Behind me, waiting outside the room and occasionally peering through the window, President Orlando and Secretary Burns wait, engaged in a quiet discussion.
They're accompanied by a couple of guards, stationed here outside of Elian's hospital room, doubling as a cell. Beyond, the facility buzzes with activity, some of the injured from the fight on the plains being treated for their wounds. It isn't like the infirmary carriage in the Olympian camp after the fiery ambush in the woods, hectic and chaotic as that was. But, it's busy enough, filled with movement, scuffling feet, and intense activity.
Yet in here, in this room, all is quiet and still, except for the heart monitor beeping to one side, tracking the pace of Elian's pulse. It's stable, regular, his breathing normal, deep and smooth. There are a few minor injuries on his body, mostly scratches and shallow gashes that will heal up and not even scar. Other than that, I'm told, he's absolutely fine.
Just resting, his fires entirely depleted as he fought upon the plains. Bravely, Kira said. He faced down against Ares and didn't take a backward step. I arrived only to find him on his knees, already defeated. Before then, apparently, he'd held the great Neoroman back, lasting longer than most would despite my absence, and the severing of our combined powers.
As it turned out, however, perhaps everything worked out for the best. Perhaps everything we've been through, everything that has led us here, is the path that we were always meant to take.
I reach out and brush some of his golden hair from his face, feeling his light breath on my hand as he exhales. I'm told he's been drugged, as I have, and yet hasn't been given anything to keep him under. It is a natural rest he's in, not an induced one. His body, it seems, needs this time to recover. His mind, falling blank as Ares was about to strike, perhaps needs the same.
I stand there for a few minutes more, just waiting for him to come back to life. But still, he lies there, sleeping silently, if not entirely peacefully judging by the slight contortion of his expression. I consider reaching out and shaking him awake, but the urge never fully takes hold.
I don't want to interrupt his recovery before its complete. I don't want to wake him until he's ready.
The light hum of voices outside of the door draws my eyes, as I turn to look away from Elian. They don't want me in here too long, I know, if Elian isn't going to wake up. It was the President who nicely granted my request to see him, even though I was told he was still resting. Burns, I know, wants to begin what he terms my 'deprogramming', a term that I understand, and yet take some umbrage with.
I don't, after all, feel as if I'm not in my right mind. I think, in fact, that I've been fairly lucid about everything I've been through these last few months, and though I haven't made all my own choices, or even the right choices, I do believe that my thoughts, at least, have been my own.
At least, mostly...
I begin moving towards the door, happy enough to have seen Elian's handsome face at least. Happy to see him here, sleeping in a comfortable bed, only mildly scattered with superficial injuries. Happy knowing that he's being treated well, and not vilified for the part he was going to play in killing every person assembled here, if given the chance.
I think again on that for just a moment, as I move towards the door.
Would he really have gone through with it? I wonder. Would I?
The way he'd spoken to me as we journeyed through the underlands made it clear enough that he was sticking to the task we'd been assigned. That he was willing to take the burden for himself, guiding me in the massacre of an entire people, the destruction of an entire city.
Yes, they were our orders, but why didn't we truly speak out against them? Why didn't anyone else among our leadership do the same?
Because your thoughts and actions are not truly your own, a voice whispers inside me. You have been subtly manipulated, as have all the others, into believing in this cause. Into getting so close that you might well have seen it through. Seen through an order, an act, that would have scarred your very soul forever, damned you for eternity to live with guilt and regret...
All it would have taken, I know, would have been for me and Elian to think of the Prime as we prepared to set loose our inferno. We may have had all the doubts in the world. We may have been unwilling, until that very moment, to go through with it.
But in the end, that single thought, that single image of the Prime and their perfect radiance, would have made us commit a most monstrous, unspeakable crime. A crime against humanity. A crime from which I would never have recovered.
At least, I think dully, until I thought once more of the Prime. Then, I'd smile and bask in the glory of it. I'd know, for certain, that it was the right thing to do.
And that...that is what Secretary Burns wants to rid of me.
That is what I need to expel.
I notice them seeing me coming as I reach the door, ready to pull on the handle and step back into the corridor beyond. I catch eyes with Burns, and yet see that his aren't looking at me. They're looking behind me, towards the bed.
"A-Amber..."
I stop in place, the voice croaking into the room.
"Amber, is that you?"
I turn around and see Elian's eyes beginning to flicker open, his head lifting from his pillow. He looks around, confused, squinting at the bright light.
I rush immediately over to him, smiling and yet nervous, somehow, to see how he'll react. "Elian, you're awake," I say. "It's me. It's Amber."
He peers at me, still squinting, still blinking. I see his eyes move towards the door, then the window looking in. The President and Secretary Burns look on, watching us like we're fish in an aquarium.
"What's...going on?" he croaks. He continues to look around, as though trying to recognise the place. "Whose carriage is this?"
He still seems slightly delirious, caught within the final throes of sleep and exhaustion from the battle.
"It's...not a carriage," I say.
"I...I don't understand." His eyes move to the window again. The others mercifully begin to re-engage with their own conversation, wishing to give us some privacy. I see a low frame of recognition build on Elian's face. "That's...Lady Orlando," he says. "And...the other..." He looks at me. "Where are we, Amber?"
He knows already, his own question answered. The thought, the realisation, has him quickly sitting up in his bed, tensing with what strength remains in his body.
Like me, he attempts to flood his veins with fire, responding in the same instinctive manner. A look of confusion washes over him as he fails to ignite the flame.
"Our powers are suppressed, Elian," I say. "It's never going to work. I tried."
"Take my hand," he says quickly. I don't move, not immediately getting his meaning. "Take it, Amber!" He reaches over and grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him. I can feel him trying to link our signatures, forge our bond. As expected, nothing happens.
I draw my wrist away, prising it from his grip. It's weak right now. He doesn't put up much of a fight. The slight exertion, in fact, has him weakly slumping back down onto the bed, his eyes going fuzzy. He puffs out a breath of air as I rearrange the pillows and cushions behind him, propping him up, acting nurse.
I speak like one would too, doing so calmly as I move him into position.
"We were both taken captive during the battle," I inform him. "We were spared by Ares and brought here to recover. We are not under any threat, Elian."
I speak without any real tension or nerves in my voice. I have quickly accepted it. I have quickly taken to making it a positive, such as it is. Being in camp right now, I'd fear for my safety more than I do here. Herald Kovas, unstable as he is, might just seek to find a scapegoat for his failures. The obvious choice, after what we've been through, would be me.<
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"We're with the enemy, Amber," he hisses, glancing again to the window, noting the presence of the guards outside. "How can we not be under threat!"
"Enemy," I say, mulling on the word. "I'm...I'm not so sure about that."
He frowns at me, shaking his head. "They've got to you, haven't they? How long did that take? How...how long have we been here?" His eyes dart around as if he might find something to give him an answer.
"Hours only," I say. "We were taken at dawn, and it's now late afternoon. And no, no one has gotten to me, Elian. There is nothing to get at."
"You're saying they aren't the enemy, Amber," he hisses again. "How is that not getting to you?"
"Because maybe it's the truth," I say, with a hint of passion in my voice. "I've never been fully on board with all this. They're only the enemy because we're told they are. Honestly, that's not what I'm seeing."
"That's how it works," he says, his eyes and voice sharpening. "The Prime decided they were the enemy, so they are. It doesn't mean they're bad people. It just means they're against us."
I stare at him, thinking on his words. The Prime decided they were the enemy, so they are...
I think about those words. Really think about them.
They sound...ridiculous, all of a sudden.
"Do you realise how stupid that sounds?" I ask him, my voice flattening out. In the depths of my mind, the image of the Prime attempts to step forward, bringing a renewed light to me. I turn from it, trying to beat it back. It's like a natural response as I waver. A failsafe that seeks to turn my mind back around, bend me right back to their will.
I fight against it, my breathing growing more hurried. Only when Elian speaks again am I distracted enough to press them back, hold a shield up against the joy they bring.
It's so...counterintuitive, in a way; to try to suppress a feeling of joy like that, one so profound, so wonderfully blissful. One that seeks to banish all misery and dark thoughts, make the world seem right again.
It's like a drug, I think. A drug that's got us all addicted.
