by T. C. Edge
What I do know, however, is that my home and lands are in the vague direction in which Perses is looking. As far as I can determine, we're somewhere in the southern central regions, whereas my old home is far towards the western reaches, midway between the southern and norther borders.
"We should continue a little further," Perses says after a few moments of thought. "There is one particular option that may prove profitable."
"Yes?" says Burns.
"It's an old fort and lookout point that is no longer in use," Perses goes on. "But which has all the necessary provisions that we will need. It should make a good encampment for us for the time being."
"A fort? That sounds promising," says Burns.
"Yes," says Perses. "It was built by forgers from the nearby rock, and used as a staging area for border troops stationed in this area of the Fringe. I am slightly concerned that it may have been reoccupied. We will have to hope that we find it empty."
"And how far away is it?" asks Hendricks.
"Not too far," says Perses, his eyes turning to the northeast once more. These forts are necessarily close to the southern border of the Fringe. They house our troops coming and going from patrols."
"Forts?" asks Hendricks, narrowing his eyes. "Plural? You mean, there are more of them around here?"
"Widely spaced out," says Perses, "but yes, there are a number of fortifications spread out across the Fringe, near the borders in particular. Some of the Forgers are highly gifted in building them, and they add extra layers of protection for both the Fringe, and Olympus itself."
"And how many soldiers are commonly stationed in them?" asks Hendricks.
"It depends on their location," says Perses. "But there can be upwards of two hundred in any one at any particular time."
"Well, we're going to need you to provide us a detailed map of the local area," Hendricks tells him. "We need to know where these forts are, so we can keep watch for a possible attack."
Perses nods.
"Good," says Burns, noting the agreement between the two men. "We shall make for this fort you mention and hope to find it abandoned. Commander," he says, looking to Hendricks, "send word to the men that we are nearing the finish line."
Hendricks nods at the order and marches off, speaking loudly as he goes, updating the troops gathered nearby. Burns and Perses turn, and begin moving back towards our jeep. I follow behind, a question rising to my lips.
"What if the fort isn't abandoned?" I ask.
The two men glance towards me. "Then we either take it, or seek another option," says Burns.
"I'd prefer the latter," says Perses. "Best to avoid unnecessary killing of my countrymen, if possible, and unnecessary risks to your own."
"Where possible, yes," says Burns. "But remember that we are at war here, Perses. I don't expect you to partake in the killing of your own people, but I would also remind you that casualties are inevitable, and you will have to accept some loss of life. Perhaps even significant loss, if it comes to it."
I see Perses taking the information on and accepting it. He nods his square jaw, his previously bald head now covered in a short coating of stubbly hair. It is another display of his abandonment of his title of Herald. And, at the same time, serves to make him look even more like Ares, whose haircut is similarly shaven.
"I accept that my voice remains limited when it comes to your offensive strategy," Perses says after a pause to reflect. "However, it remains my wish to replace the Prime without unnecessary death on both sides."
"As it does all of ours," nods Burns, as they continue to walk towards the jeep. "We shall see what happens as the days unfold."
We arrive back at the car, as Jude quickly stands to attention. He steps quickly towards the front door, opening it up for Burns to climb in, and getting a grateful nod as reward. Then he does the same with ours, letting me jump in first, moving to the back, before Perses fills the central seats. He follows behind, shutting the door, and the convoy gets set to rumble off once more.
As it does so, and Perses leans forwards to provide directions, and give Burns some further background information on these lands, Jude leans in to me with a whisper.
"Anything interesting go down?" he asks.
"Some," I say. "We're going to set up shop in an old fort, apparently. There are loads of them across the borders, Perses says. Did you know about that?"
"I knew there were some, yeah," says Jude. "I've seen one, actually, to the south of Pine Lake. There's another town there where I go and trade. Big fort in the distance, protecting the border. I'm sure I've mentioned that to you before?"
I frown, thinking. "I guess it does ring a bell somewhere. You've seen a lot more of the Fringe than I have."
"Well, we're seeing more now. Do you remember this area from when we passed through?"
I glance around as we rumble on across the wide, open plains, pleasantly green in places, and more earthy brown in tone elsewhere. It's odd to hear Jude say 'we' when referring to us passing through here. It was weeks into the journey before I even knew he was there, kept in the back among the slaves.
"Vaguely," I say. "Not much to look at. You?"
He shakes his head briskly, the shadow of a dark memory passing across his eyes. "I didn't see much," he says. "It was pretty cramped inside my carriage. A couple of small windows to let in some air. Didn't get a chance to look out much."
My eyes show the sympathy he deserves. Not, it would seem, the sympathy he wants.
"Don't look at me like that," he says. "I'm over it. It's done. I'm just going to make sure that others like me don't get sucked into the same system."
I smile at him now, my eyes changing.
"What?" he says. "What's that look?"
"Pride," I say quickly. "I'm proud of you, Jude. And I know that sort of thing can sound condescending, but it's not. It's real. You don't let anything faze you for long."
"I haven't had it as bad as some others," he says. He reaches to the scar on his cheek, and the brand seared into his flesh beneath it. "This doesn't define me, Amber. It's a blip, that's all. I want to make sure no one else is branded like this again."
We begin rising back up a long, slowly ascending slope, both of us turning to look out of the window as faint plumes of smoke appear in the distance. I frown as I look at them, my ears tuning once more into Perses's voice as he continues to speak with Burns.
"Right over this hill," he's saying, "there's a fairly large town called Hunter's Station, a few miles to the west of here. It's one of the largest settlements across the Fringe, and this is the most populated region overall." He glances back to me and Jude. "It's about twenty times the size of Pine Lake, for reference," he tells us. "It was built from the ruins of an ancient town that once existed here. Ideally, we'll keep our distance so we're not spotted." He turns back to Burns. "The fort is about ten miles north of here..."
The car begins to crest the hill as he speaks, rising up towards the summit. My eyes fade immediately across to the west, staring out of the window. In the distance, the town of Hunter's Station begins to come into view.
And as I see it, my chest tightness.
Plumes of smoke rise up, swirling skyward from multiple points. Those rising trails I'd seen before now multiply into dozens, billowing into the air and gathering into a cloud of smog above it. Large sections of the town lie flaming and in ruin, homes, businesses, small and large buildings alike on fire.
And in the distance, far away, I see other wispy trails of grey and black smoke chug into the air, belched up from homes and settlements littering the horizon.
The Fringe, my home, has been set ablaze.
133
"There, go there!" calls Burns, pointing across the plains. The driver hesitates, staring into the distance, at the smoking town a few miles away. "What are you waiting for! Go!"
The car kicks back into gear, turning in the direction of Hunter's Station, accelerating quickly as we rush in that direction. I turn to look out of the
window and see that the rest of the convoy, coming in behind, is reacting with similar purpose, following us as we dash across the plains.
"What the hell's happened?" I find my voice calling, rising in volume over the growing din of the engine and thrashing tires. "You think Kovas did this?"
"That seems illogical," returns Perses, narrowing his eyes as he scans forward through the window. "This is something else."
I see Jude tensing by my side, leaning close to the glass to get a better look ahead. His eyes have fallen behind a dangerous frown. "Rioting," he grumbles. "The town rioted, and this is the response from Olympus."
Perses gently nods his head. "Could be," he agrees. "Heresy and public dissent is fiercely dealt with when encountered, as you both know well."
I nod and turn briefly to my thoughts. I've seen enough to know that these lands, though protected from outside threats by Olympus for the most part, remain within a brutal system of servitude. Step out of line, or test the boundaries of that system, and the reaction can be swift and violent.
"I see people, sir," calls the driver. His Farsight eyes search forward through the window as he goes. "There are...bodies, at the edge of town."
I scan ahead but can see nothing. My fists twist into balls, pressing against the cuts caused by Elian's grip a few days before. The sensation brings pain. I use it as a distraction as we speed onwards, the town quickly growing more clear ahead.
I begin to get a proper look at it now. It's large, and widely spread out. Perses wasn't lying when he said it was twenty times the size of Pine Lake. The buildings are mostly a couple of storeys tall, though a few stand a little grander. They looked to be relics of what existed here before, built upon and transformed. I also see an area of what looks like warehouses, and large buildings used for storage, some of them burning violently.
I get the sense of a town built primarily around trade, the name of Hunter's Station partially giving that away. The sort of central location where many traders and merchants come to buy and sell meats and pelts and other such goods, trading in the items not already given for tribute.
Ahead, within the outskirts of the town, I see what appears to be the entranceway into the ceremonial square. All settlements across the Fringe have them, in one form or another; those plazas where the tributes are gathered each month for the local Collectors, like Ceres, to gather and bring back to Olympus. In large towns, they are often on the outskirts, so the Olympians can quickly enter, take the tribute, and leave without having to move right through the town itself.
It was the same in Black Ridge, I remember, when Jude and I passed through that highly devout town on the northern border, giving access onto the Sacred Plains. Here, I can't imagine that the people are quite so committed to their religious duties. If a few dissenting Fringers were to stir up the crowd in a town like this, the likely reaction from Olympus would be to send in the troops to deal with them before it spread too far and wide...
But then, what about elsewhere? I wonder, trying to search the horizon again. I can't, the town now blocking my view as we near. There were other plumes of smoke in the distance. Have other settlements seen similar treatment?
We begin to slow, the vehicles moving towards the marked road that enters into the ceremonial square. Burns orders for the driver to stop outside the town. As we do so, I take in the sight of the bodies the driver mentioned. There are dozens of them, more, all piled up at the edge of the square ahead.
I jump out of the vehicle as soon as it stops, staring forward as the rest of the convoy closes in behind us. Doors open and slam shut as hundreds rush out into the morning air. Above, the sun is blotted by the gathering smoke, creating a blanket of smog over the streets.
I notice Hendricks rushing over in a blur, moving with great speed and arriving out of nowhere among our small gathering.
"What is this, Perses?" he asks, his voice a growl as he interrupts us. "Are your lands at war? Is there another enemy we should worry about?"
"No, Commander," Perses says. "This is the work of Olympus."
"Massacring your own people?" Hendricks barks, his voice dark and eyes the same. He looks to the bodies piled up nearby. I can sense the shame in Perses as he looks at them too. "Is this what you do?"
"This isn't the time for finger-pointing, Glenn," says Burns, maintaining his calm manner. "Perses isn't to blame for this." He turns to look to the town. Already a few soldiers have rushed ahead, checking for signs of life among the dead, weapons aloft as they move in, wary should they run into soldiers. "We need to help," Burns goes on. "There may be injured we can help. What is the population of this town, Perses?"
"I'm not sure," Perses says, a little of the wind taken out of his sails. "Thousands. It's a trading town, and a central post for food storage. The Prime may have ordered the food reserves targeted once they discovered we were coming."
"They'd do that?" asks Hendricks, his voice cooling a little. "Destroy their own provisions?"
"If it stopped us from getting access to them, quite possibly. I suspect that as much of the food stocks as possible will have been gathered within the city. They may be seeking to destroy the rest."
"And what about the people of the Fringe?" I ask, hardly believing what I'm hearing. "What are they going to live on? They give most of what they grow and hunt for tribute anyway! How are they going to survive?"
"I don't have the answers right now, Amber," Perses says. "Hopefully, I'm wrong, and this is something else entirely."
"Well, if you're not, this could create a widespread humanitarian crisis across the Fringe," Burns says, ominously. He looks to the sides, where many of the soldiers gather and await orders. With a shake of the hand he gestures for them to move in. "Look for survivors," he calls out. "Only bring the injured who we can help. Leave the healthy where they are, though make sure they're safe. Kill any soldiers you find."
I search Perses's expression at the final order. His eyes display no opposition to it now.
"We can't manage this ourselves," Hendricks says, taking Burns by the shoulder. "We are not here to be peacekeepers, or aid workers. We are here to destroy the Prime."
"You are right, Glenn," says Burns. "We did not come for this. But we are here now, and we have no choice but to act. We will stop here until the town is made safe, and then continue to the fort. I will seek to gather information on exactly what is happening. Everyone, help where you can."
He marches forwards at that, our driver and his personal bodyguard going with him. With a slight grunt, Hendricks then does the same, hurrying off into the town as if keen to get it all done. I understand his point. We came here to take out the Prime, not tend to the local people of the Fringe. If what is happening here has been happening elsewhere, then the scale of the problem will be one we cannot solve ourselves.
"Stay here, Amber," I hear Perses telling me. "I'm going to lend a hand where I can."
I look up to him with an immediate, and deep, frown over my eyes. "You're kidding, right?" I say, grabbing his massive arm as he prepares to step away. "You think I'm just going to stand here and wait. These are my people, Perses." I fix him with a resolute stare, and then turn to Jude. "Come on, Jude, let's go."
We move off, ready to lend whatever aid we can. I expect to hear Perses offer some complaint, but he remains silent. A moment later, I see him moving into the square, rushing on at speed. Showing himself might not be so wise, at least not if we wish to maintain the illusion that he is dead. Yet, in truth, there seems little benefit to that now. No one is thinking clearly enough of such things. And in Perses, a god to the people here, he can help restore some measure of calm.
I find the town in chaos as Jude and I move into the large square. People move about, stricken and in tears, searching for their lost loved ones. I see the living cradling the dead, calling out for aid when, really, there is none that anyone can give. Our soldiers hurry in, trying to help where possible. When they realise that there's nothing that can be done, they're quick
to make what seems like a callous decision, and move right off again, seeking another target whom might have a chance to survive.
City Guards, Neoromans, Nameless and Stalkers alike all operate together. Soldiers become aid workers and medics at the flip of a switch. Officers, used to calling out orders, are suddenly secondary to those with medical training, the medics themselves ordering the soldiers about, arranging things as survivors are quickly unearthed.
A variety of wounds and injuries, and causes of death are quickly reported. Some are badly burned, their homes set ablaze. Others have clearly been shot, empty shells of bullets littering the square. It appears as though much of the carnage is right here, at the edge of town. I wonder if a public display was going on when the soldiers came and wrought such damage.
I find myself mostly out of my depth as I look around, partially paralysed by it all. Yet Jude, blessed with a natural leadership and clear head in a crisis, is quick to lend his support and help. He quickly spots a young woman, her stomach issuing blood from a bullet wound, and hurries in to stem the flow. Ripping off his shirt, he reveals his honed body beneath, wrapping the stricken girl up as he bellows for a medic.
I gravitate towards him, almost overawed by the rush around me. I can do little but stand there for a second, as Jude's bellows for aid finally draw the attentions of a medic who rushes in to join us. He kneels by Jude's side, assesses the damage of the bullet wound in the girl's belly. Then, standing, he merely shakes his head. "There's nothing we can do," he says. "I'm sorry."
He rushes off, the decision made. I see the terror on the girl's face as she looks at Jude, her skin quickly turning pale. "It's OK," Jude whispers to her. "It's OK, I'm here." He sits beside her, holding her in his arms. "You're going to be fine, don't worry. He doesn't know what he's talking about. You'll be just fine. Just stay calm now..."
