by T. C. Edge
He nods and moves off at that, leaving us alone. I look again at my tattered clothing, and imagine that this might be a good time to change, while the soldiers are mostly busy. Leaving Jude to help with the injured, I take my grandmother towards the convoy of cars, updating her on a few more details as we go. She seems quite interested in the Stalkers, in particular, owing to their rather detached and cold demeanour, as well as their starkly black outfits.
"I try not to look them in the eye," I say. "They're, er, not like normal people."
We reach the jeep in which Burns, Perses, Jude and I have been travelling, and I swiftly rummage through the trunk until I find my combat armour. Having worn it for more or less the entire journey south with the Olympian army, I'm fairly used to it by now.
My grandmother watches curiously, and asks if she can touch it. She does so with an impressed pair of pursed lips. "Certainly an upgrade from when I was among the Chosen," she says. "It looks sleeker and more comfortable to me."
"I have no frame of reference," I say. "Though, I was a Herald, not a Chosen."
"Ah, of course."
"Elian was the Chosen," I tell her, glancing off to one of the cars nearby. Elian, no longer tied up in one of the troop carriers, is still under watch for the time being. I see him there, sitting inside, looking out. He lifts a smile at me from within the car, gazing on longingly for a moment, before turning away.
"Has something happened with the boy?" my grandmother inquires curiously, drawing my attention. "I've seen that sort of look before, Amber."
I dip my eyes. I can't hide it. I was never much good at that sort of thing.
"What about Jude?" she asks, her eyebrows inching closer together, reading me like a book. "You were always destined to be together. He's such a sweet, handsome boy."
"He is," I breathe. "All of the above. And more." I turn my eyes to the side, looking back towards the town. "I don't know grandma. I...I think I love them both."
"Love?" Hearing her repeat the word makes me feel suddenly stupid. "You've had time to fall in love with two young men during all of this?"
"Well, one," I say quietly. "I feel as strong for Jude as ever. Elian...he's new."
"Hmmmm, yes. The shiny new object. I can see the appeal." She glances back towards him, sitting within the car. "A handsome man, like this father. But I doubt it's love, Amber. You haven't known him long enough."
"Since when does that matter?" I ask, pulling my combat armour back from her. I move around the car to get some privacy, and begin stripping off the charred garments now hanging off various parts of me. "There's no formula for falling for someone, grandma. It just happens sometimes. It can be quick or slow."
"And if quick, it's often just infatuation," she tells me bluntly. "I assume you've spent time with Elian, given your roles? Have you trained together? Fought together?"
I nod. "Of course. We were the two best Fire-Bloods they had. Herald Kovas wanted us fighting side by side. Our powers were stronger when linked..."
"Oh, I know," she says. "I know how it works, Amber, believe me. And training like that, with that unique bond, it can make you feel close to someone, can't it? Even make you think you love them, perhaps. Take that away, and it isn't the same. I've seen it all before."
I frown, wondering if she's right. I did like Elian before, but the short-lived romance between us only really started to evolve when we began training side by side. Was it merely the bond of our powers, our flame, or the fact that we spent time together? It's hard for me to separate them now.
"You're biased towards Jude," I say finally, putting her back on the spot. "You've always had a soft spot for him..."
I begin pulling on my combat armour, feeling the smooth, yet fiercely durable, material covering my athletic frame once more. It gives me a bolstered sensation of strength and power, the armour immediately glowing with a soft red as I zip myself in.
"You look good," my grandmother says, standing back and admiring me. "Very fetching."
"You don't approve," I say, happy enough to change the subject and move on from my love life. "You think I'm a weapon."
"I think you look fetching," she says pointedly, "that's all. Not everything I say is a challenge, Amber. It's only sensible to wear the best armour you have available at times like this."
I sigh, quite aware that I remain insecure about my recent experiences. "It's true though," I breathe out. "A weapon, that's all I was. That's what they wanted from me." I look into her eyes. "They wanted us to burn the city down from the inside, grandma," I say, shaking my head. "Me and Elian. To murder tens, even hundreds of thousands of innocent people. I still can't bear to think about it."
"And you didn't go through with it?" she asks softly.
"I might have," I say. "If things were different. I guess...I guess I got lucky." I look over to Elian again. "We both did."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, darling," my grandmother tells me. "Even the very best of people can be made to do the very worst of things. It isn't a reflection of you. But this," she says, looking out. "All of this, is. You are here to fight for your people. That is who you are, deep down in your core. That's something the Prime can never take away."
"They just hide it," I add, nodding, knowing. "Until you're lucky enough to break free."
She smiles and steps back in towards me, placing her hands to my shoulders. "You know, I think you're even more beautiful than when I last saw you," she says. "If that's even possible."
"Grandma..."
"It's true, darling. I can see what all these young men see in you. They can't help but fall for you, my gorgeous granddaughter." She looks over to Elian once more. "Though, I imagine he must have despised you at first, coming to Olympus from the Fringe as you did. It can't have been easy for you."
"It wasn't," I say, remembering back. "But he was one of the better ones, actually. A bit arrogant, but nice, behind the facade."
"Arrogance often comes with a life of privilege. I can tell you that from experience. But circumstances change a person, humble them. Perhaps the same will be true of Elian, as it was for me."
"So, you...don't hate him then," I ask softly. "For...for what happened with his father?"
"Hate him?" she says, recoiling at the idea. "Of course not, darling. How could I possibly hate someone I've never even met? I leave that to bigots and fools, and I myself am neither. All I will say is, follow your heart. Simple advice, yes, and a bit of a cliche, but perhaps that's for a reason. You'll know it, when the time comes. But right now, I think it's best to put such things aside."
"Oh, I plan to," I say. "I've spoken with both of them, actually. I think they're fully aware that we have other concerns right now."
"Perhaps," grandma says, "but there's a boy who longs to spend more time with you."
I follow her eyes towards Elian's car, to find him gazing lazily out in our direction. He tries to make as if he's not watching, but it's clear enough that he is.
"He's just bored," I say, turning again to my grandmother. "He's been a proper captive, unlike me and Perses, for the whole trip. It hasn't been so easy freeing his mind." I reach again to my neck, the red strangle marks now mostly faded away, though leaving behind a bit of bruising.
"He did that, did he?" she asks, noticing.
"Yeah, but don't blame him," I say quickly, defensively. "It wasn't..."
"It wasn't his fault," she nods. "I know that already. You can tell me all about it when we head off for Pine Lake. We'll have plenty of time to catch up properly then."
I turn my eyes to the west, the plains spreading off to the very edges of my vision. "And how far is Pine Lake from here?"
"It depends how fast these vehicles of yours are able to travel. But, as the crow flies, we're talking over two hundred miles."
"Then half a day, perhaps," I say. I turn my eyes to the skies. It's still morning, though the afternoon is quick approaching. I suspect that, unless things happen quickly here, we may have to wait until dawn to
leave.
The next hour begins to confirm that suspicion, as our efforts in town draw to a conclusion. While some of the injured remain, tended to by the local people, those with more significant injures are stretchered to a troop carrier assigned as a medical transport, accompanied by several of the local residents to help watch over them and keep them calm.
A small company of soldiers are also left behind to help put out the flames, a couple of the Neoroman Water-Elementals showing themselves to be particularly useful there. The rest gather within the cars and jeeps, preparing to set off once more to the fort, only ten miles north.
Before we do, I observe the first meeting between Perses and my grandmother. It's an interesting interaction, watching an old, banished Chosen Fire-Blood meet the finest Herald of War, the two never experiencing the summit of the Hill of Olympus together, yet aware of each other all the same. As far as I know, my grandmother had been banished some time before Perses arrived in the city and began his own ascension.
Yet, despite her fall from grace, her figure remained carved into the temple of the Prime, honoured even after she was sent away, and Perses will have heard much about her, as well as other previous Heralds and Chosen, during his many years by the Prime's side.
"It's a great pleasure to finally meet you, Alberta," Perses says, as he arrives at our jeep, his rumbling voice as deep and heavy as ever. "I understand you played a great part in Amber's upbringing. You should be proud of the young woman she has become."
"Oh, most proud, Herald Perses," my grandmother returns, doing so with a degree of respect for the title that I find rather unusual. Perhaps it isn't so much the title she respects, as the man, his very presence demanding it.
"I am not a Herald anymore," he says, correcting her. "I have relinquished the title now."
"A commendable gesture," my grandmother replies. She looks to me, standing off to the side. "I can see that Amber thinks very highly of you. I thank you for guiding her so well these last weeks and months."
"No such thanks are necessary. She has been a pleasure. A little obdurate at times, but a pleasure all the same."
"No, we must be talking about a different Amber," my grandmother says, a smirk joyfully rising upon her lips. "Obdurate? Surely not."
A smile forms upon Perses's lips as well. I get ready to roll my eyes.
"It's the questions," he says, grinning. "There are just so many of them."
"Oh, tell me about it," grandma says. "She's always been the same. Curious as a cat. I could hardly get a breath in sometimes."
"Ah, so it wasn't just me?" says Perses. "I thought she was just targeting me for torture. I can tell you, there were some long days on the road with her, Alberta. And she wonders why I'd go off on my long strolls at night."
The two, an unlikely pair for sure, begin to laugh together at that, turning to look at me as I stand to the side, arms folded, appearing rather unhappy with the conversation.
Well, that isn't the truth. In reality, it delights me to see these two together, to watch them smile and laugh, even if the source of their fun is me.
They continue on for a few more beats, finding new ways to fondly tease me, before Secretary Burns calls over to them, asking them to get inside so we can move off. I do so first, dropping into the back seat with Jude, and perhaps making the mistake of leaving my grandmother and Perses to travel in the middle seats together.
Thankfully, the gravity of the situation eventually catches up with them, as Burns begins asking Perses to direct us northwards, his knowledge of these lands guiding us to the fort.
As we set off on the ten mile journey north, I turn to Jude once more, still covered in drying blood. I reach into the back and grab a piece of cloth, wiping the blood from his face. He looks a little shellshocked by it all, though his expression is commonly like that these days. He is still fighting to come back from the horrors he's seen. It will take time for the old Jude to return to me, if it ever happens at all.
"We're going home, Jude," I say quietly, as the others engage in a conversation about the local lands around us. "We're going to go and get our families out. Make sure they're safe."
"We?" he asks. "You and Alberta."
"And you," I say. "They're your lands too. Don't you want to know that Grace is OK?"
"Of course I do," he says. "But..." he lowers his voice, "are you sure they'll let us?"
"We've spoken with Burns about it already. He's going to let us borrow a jeep when we settle in at the fort. We'll be gone a day or so, no more."
"So you'd come back?"
I frown. "Well...yeah. I want this as much as anyone. This is our fight even more than theirs, Jude. We should be at the heart of it."
He lifts a faint smile. "You don't know what it's like for me, being surrounded by all of you. I'm just...me. I can't make a difference."
"You can't make a difference?" I ask. "Of course you can. Didn't you make a difference in Hunter's Station? Didn't you help save lives?"
"I did what the medics told me..."
"Jude, sometimes it's not the big, dramatic gesture that makes the difference. Sometimes it's just being there, being consistent, always helping, always being strong for everyone else." I grab his hand. "You're always so strong for me, Jude. Without you, I'd have never made it this far. You're my rock. You always have been, and always will be."
He turns his eyes down briefly, his dark hair, wild upon his head, sprinkled with blood and soot. "So that's what I'm here for?" he asks, looking up. "To be your crutch?"
I frown at the look in his eye. "No, I didn't mean it like that..."
Slowly, his expression turns, his lips sliding into a signature, half smile. "I'm just teasing, Amber," he says. "I know what you meant. It was real...sweet."
"Well don't get used to it, OK."
"No, I know. You've gotta split your sweet words between me and Elian now, right?"
"Jude..."
"I'm joking, I'm joking," he says, though I suspect he isn't entirely. "Come on, if we're going to be in this situation, I can at least have some fun with it, right?" He turns and looks out, drawing a breath, his voice turning deeper, more serious. "You're right, though," he goes on. "I know power doesn't mean worth. Not always. And I'll always be able to help where I can." He turns silent a moment, as though wanting to say more, but not knowing just how to say it. Then he turns to me. "So, when are we leaving?" he asks. "Will it just be the three of us?"
"I'm not sure," I say, turning my eyes on Perses ahead, wondering if he might come too. "I'll speak with grandma. I think it'll be best if we leave tomorrow morning. I don't fancy travelling at night around here."
"Not without a Farsight," he says. "We could do with Kira being here."
"Yeah, I don't think this is her fight, Jude," I say. "And anyway, aren't you still mad at her?"
"Mad? At her? I'd sooner be mad at a great white shark."
"I know, right," I say, chuckling. "She's...intense."
"And yet, we still haven't caught up with them," Jude goes on. "You don't think they're, you know."
"What? Dead?" I frown and shake my head, thinking it impossible. "With Ares and all those Neoroman Champions? No, I don't think so, Jude. More likely they're dealing with everything themselves. They'll probably arrive back to tell us they’ve got Brie back and have killed the Prime. You know, all in a day's work," I say, rubbing my hands.
"Oh, how I wish you were being serious," he says.
"Oh, so do I," I nod. I look out of the window, across the wide, dusty plains. "They'll find us soon, I'm sure," I say, my voice more sombre. "I'll bet you anything that they'll be here when we get back."
"If we get back," Jude says. "The Fringe has grown dangerous, Amber."
"Yeah, dangerous for anyone we come across," I say. "You should have seen grandma earlier," I whisper, leaning in. "I understand now why she was Chosen Fire-Blood before."
"She still got it?" he asks.
"Oh," I say, looking at her, sitting ahead of
us, "she's still got it all right."
"Nice to see I have a fan club," I hear her say suddenly, stepping back from her own conversation, and turning back to look at us. She grins, eyes turning from me to Jude. "You kids, same as ever, whispering in the back. Don't think I can't hear you. I always could, remember."
"Yes, grandma," I say, leaning back into my chair. I glance at Jude with a grin in my eyes, and see him do the same.
Oh, it's good to be back.
137
The fort appears before my eyes some time before we actually arrive.
Much bigger than I thought it would be, it's comprised of outer walls that stretch around the boundary, protecting the buildings within. Those buildings are situated upon a gently sloping hill, an old, castle-like structure on its summit, with supporting buildings around it. Suffice it to say, I'm impressed. It looks to be somewhere that could well harbour many of the incoming Neoroman troops, let alone the five hundred - plus a few Fringers - we already have here with us.
"So, this is it, is it Perses?" asks Secretary Burns, as our convoy of vehicles crosses the open plains towards the walls of the fort ahead. "Do you think we should expect to find a welcoming party to greet us?"
"I wouldn't imagine so," Perses says, sitting beside my grandmother. "But, of course, it would be wise to check."
"Certainly. We shall have a small contingent check it is clear before we pass through the gates."
Those gates, I can now see, look down towards the south, the fort built to house and train soldiers here who mostly see to the patrolling and protection of the southern border of the Fringe. Now, of course, those soldiers will be seeing to its reaving and raiding. The men and women who once protected these lands have now been ordered to turn against them.
We begin to slow, before stopping roughly a hundred metres or so out from the gates. With orders from Burns to stay by the car, we step back out and wait, as Commander Hendricks forms a small party to go ahead and check so see if the coast is clear. Using a band of a dozen Stalkers, he hurries off, leaving the remainder of us where we are. As we wait, Perses gives us a little more background information on the area, his knowledge of these lands extremely useful in helping us to build a better idea of what to expect, and whether we might come under attack.
