by T. C. Edge
"I suppose so," Burton agrees. "If you cannot force servitude through worship, you can still do so through fear."
"Precisely," grandma says. "So, how far is this camp?"
"About what the boy said. Two or three hours at least."
"May be quicker for us in the jeep," I say, looking to my grandmother.
She nods. "Most likely," she says. Her eyes stretch skyward. "We don't have a great deal of light left. It may be best for us to wait until morning."
"They may not last that long, grandma," I whisper.
She lets out a considering sigh. "Is this camp well lit, Burt?" she asks.
"Inside, I suppose so," he says. "But, if you're thinking about infiltration, I'm not so sure. And remember, if they have Farsight guards there, they'll spot you coming, nighttime or not. At least during daytime you'll be able to see."
"I'm not worried about the guards," I say, bunching my fists. "They'll be nothing like the sorts I've faced before. They won't be hard to overcome."
"A confident young girl," Burton says, pursing his lips in appreciation of my attitude. "And you're probably right. The quality of guards overseeing such facilities is fairly low. They may not be much against a Herald like yourself."
I find my eyes falling at the title. Like Perses, I don't want to be associated with it. I never truly earned it anyway.
"Travelling in the dark is also inadvisable," my grandmother adds, half thinking to herself. "We don't want to be a beacon for those who might see, and have no Farsight among us to guide us through the darkness without light. If we're to leave, we need to do so now. We can assess when we arrive, and determine our next course then."
I nod quickly at her words. I was starting to fear she'd choose to wait until morning.
"We'll need you to come with us, Burton, if you don't mind," she goes on. "You're the only one who can guide us there."
"I'll help," he says. "It'll take me part way towards my lands anyway."
"And Jude," she goes on. "He knows the inside. He'll be able to help."
"I'll fetch him," I say. I begin to move off, and then turn. "What about Grace?"
"She can stay here for the time being," grandma says. "The others will no doubt seek to stay here for the evening before setting off at first light. They can keep her company. I should probably inform them of our plans myself."
She sets off after me, moving back into the cabin. I find Jude inside, speaking with Keith about their weapons provisions. He appears to be quickly assimilating himself into the ranks of the Fringe Liberation League. It gives me a great swell of joy to see him finding a path that makes him passionate. And, on a slightly more selfish note, helps me feel a little less guilty about having him taken from the slaves he escaped with from the Olympians camp.
Grandma quickly informs the others of what is happening. They promise to keep Grace company, and introduce her to grandma's home brew. It appears, in their temporary isolation here, they have been getting through her stocks with some conviction.
With a quick goodbye, we move off again, Grace now replaced by Burton in our little troop. As Jude steps into the front seat to continue his duty as driver, grandma allows Burton to sit beside him to act as navigator. It will also give them a chance to speak, and get to know one another a little more, aiding further in Jude's initiation.
Sitting in the back with grandma, I turn to her with a question.
"So this is why you didn't want any other soldiers coming with us," I say. "Because you had arranged this meeting at your cabin."
"Is that a question or a statement, Amber?" she asks
"A statement, I guess, since I know it's the truth."
She nods. "I didn't want interference," she says. "We may not be powerful, but we are numerous, and these are our lands to fight for and defend more than anyone. I hope the coalition army will see that."
"They will," I say, nodding. "They'll be more than happy for any help and support. Secretary Burns has already spoken to me about trying to forge links between New Haven and Olympus, once the Prime and their regime are replaced. This is a great place to start."
"It is. Though, convincing the Olympians themselves isn't going to be so easy."
"No, that's what Elian says," I tell her.
"And he's right," she says. "Even if the Prime do fall, the situation will be precarious for some time. We will need leaders on both sides to create a lasting peace and cooperation. In time, hopefully, it will become something more."
I look again to Jude. "He could be a leader," I whisper. "He and all of the others."
"And you. And Perses. And perhaps even Elian. We have the right pieces, Amber. It's just about fitting them all together."
"And the picture when the puzzle is complete?"
She smiles at me. "Peace. Prosperity. Freedom. Equality." She sighs and shakes her head, knowing such things will be hard to achieve. "Or...some semblance of all that, at least," she says. "That is the end goal, Amber."
I turn my eyes to the window as we begin working again through the trees. It's strange to think that the purpose I took for myself when the Olympian army was heading south - protecting the Fringers, fighting for their rights - is now being considered as something we might just achieve on a grand scale after all.
Yet unlike then, I’m not alone in that fight. I am merely a single cog in a much larger machine.
A machine that, I've come to see, has been run by my grandmother for many, many years.
She may have been a Chosen, yet that was never her real purpose or path. No, she has found it here, fighting for the other side.
Just, I suppose, like me.
145
"OK," Burton says, straining his eyes ahead. "It should be just ahead, over this rise."
I tense in the seat behind him, and search forward through the front window as Jude steers the jeep forwards.
The journey so far has been without incident, though we have spotted signs of Olympian troops once or twice. The thought within the jeep is that it's those still gathering and burning supplies, moving from town to town to carry out their masters' orders. Soon enough, they'll have swept through the entire Fringe, eviscerating the people's personal provisions and food stocks.
It is a situation that could yet become a full on crisis in the coming days and weeks. The incoming Neoroman army will have no idea of this situation, and will only have brought a certain amount of provisions for themselves. The Fringer Liberation League, though stockpiling their own personal supplies, will not have enough to feed the people for long. And while some parts of the Fringe - those that get much of their food through hunting and fishing - will continue to feed themselves well enough, they will have a hard time gathering enough for everyone else.
It's an issue we'll have to face together soon, and could well be something for the League themselves to see to, while the Havenite and Neoroman forces begin their siege of the city itself.
The jeep climbs slowly, the light above fading fast now. Ahead, the top of the rise begins to give way to a sloping hill that soon forms into something far more dramatic. I lean forward even further, widening my eyes to combat the growing gloom, and see a huge hole in the ground come into view, separated into tiers like seating in a grand arena. The steps are each ten metres deep, seven or eight of them zigzagging down into a great depression, deep in the earth. It's not circular, as far as I can see, but carved into a uneven shape, with steps and tiers down one side, and cliffs on several others.
"Stop here," Burton says to Jude. "We can get out for a better look."
Jude parks the vehicle and we step out, the quarry still some way off and gradually disappearing into the fading light. The swelling of clouds above us doesn't exactly help the situation, further diminishing our view. There appears to be no external light at all, no artificial illumination glowing anywhere that we can see.
"Maybe it's abandoned?" I whisper, looking on. "I'm not seeing any lights anywhere."
"The camp is right at the bottom
," Jude says. "There are buildings there around a central yard. It's a simple place, really. No way to escape either with all these steps."
"We should get to the cliff edge," grandma says. "We'll have a better view to the bottom from there."
We press forwards, more of the quarry coming into view as we near. It's deeper than I thought, stretching a couple of levels more down to the bottom. And soon enough, I begin to see the camp itself, the shapes of buildings coming into view far off in the distance.
"There," whispers Jude, pointing as we creep to the edge of the cliff, looking right down to the camp a hundred or so metres below. "Lights, inside the buildings."
I see them now, the interior of several buildings illuminated, their glow shining out dully through the glass windows. Outside, however, there remain no lights at all. I squint ahead once again, trying to spot sentries or soldiers on guard.
"Can you see any guards?" I ask, trying to find them. "I'm guessing they don't need light if they're Farsights."
"As I said," Burton nods. "It'll make them harder to spot, though they'd have no trouble seeing us. Stay down low and try not to move much." He scans a little further. "Look," he adds. "See the carriages down there?"
I follow the path of his finger, and see a collection of vehicles to one side. The camp isn't huge, but it's certainly big enough to accommodate a couple hundred Fringers at once. The carriages must have been used to transport them here.
"Are there other camps like this around?" I ask, glancing to the others.
"Several," nods grandma. "I've heard about others before, much bigger than this one."
I can sense Jude's jaw clenching beside me, and reach over to take his hand.
"I see a sentry," Burton says quickly, his voice no more than a hiss.
We instinctively drop lower and out of sight at the top of the cliff. For a few long moments, we go quiet, before Burton gently lifts his head up again and looks down.
"There are a couple," he whispers. "There's only one way in down those zigzagging steps, and they're guarding the checkpoint." He turns back to Jude. "How many guards where there when you were here, Jude?"
"Must have been a dozen at least," Jude says. "Along with a bunch of other..." He frowns. "Therapists, I think they called them. Faith re-alignment therapists."
"And they were telepaths, I assume," I ask.
He shakes his head. "Oh, no," he says. "That would be too easy. They prefer to condition you through other means."
"Should I ask?" I say tentatively.
He leans forwards a little, and glares down towards the camp. "A range of things," he says grimly. "Starts light, the therapists seem nice. Just conversations, you know, to see where you went wrong. Maybe they are telepaths, reading your mind, but they don't put anything in there I don't think. Most people are probably so scared they promise to be perfect Devotees from that point on."
"And next?" I ask. "If you're a little less...persuadable."
"Then they get a little more...physical," he says. "I have a scar or two to show for that. But I guess I got lucky in the end. They came by looking for workers for the army before they could truly get to work on me. I signed up happily. They knew I was going to be a problem for them anyway. Think they were only too happy to let me go."
"They want you to convert on your own, mostly," my grandmother adds. "The effects are longer lasting and more powerful like that. They use subtle manipulation to help, perhaps, but nothing too obvious. Enough free will to make you think it's all you."
"Sounds familiar," I say. "That's how the Overseer works."
"It's effective," grandma says. "Has been for years." She glances down into the camp again, leaning forwards briefly before pulling back. "I'd say it's best for us to wait it out," she says. "We can each take watch one at a time. If something happens, and we need to act, then we go. Otherwise, it'll be best to wait for daylight when we can see what we're doing."
I let out a puff of air, not liking the idea of delaying any further. "There are only two guards, grandma. Why should we wait?"
"Because there will be others inside, most likely. If they spot us coming, who knows what they'll do to the prisoners. They might just execute them all, Amber. We can't take that risk with your parents down there."
"And do we know they're actually there?" asks Burton. "It's quite possible they were taken elsewhere."
"Jude was taken here from Pine Lake. It makes sense that Amber's parents would have too," says grandma. "In any case, it's our only lead. Now, I'm thinking it's best if we sleep in the jeep. It gets cold out here at night. Let's head back and eat something. We can discuss the sentry schedule then."
I don't particularly like it, but don't argue either. Shuffling back from the edge of the cliff, we quietly make our way back towards the keep and enjoy a quick dinner from the provisions we brought along with us. Being early, it's decided that grandma will take the first watch so she can have a full rest afterwards. She may be powerful, but she's also the oldest among us by far. If she's going to remain effective, she needs to rest more than we do.
As she heads back off to begin her watch from the edge of the cliff, and Burton settles in to rest inside the jeep, Jude and I sit on the front bonnet, quietly discussing everything we've learned.
It seems quite amazing that all of this was going on under our noses, and we never even knew.
"She must have been travelling around the Fringe more than anyone realised," Jude says, looking off towards the edge of the cliff ahead, where the small figure of my grandmother sits alone. "Did you ever know about that?"
I shake my head. "I mean, there were periods when I didn't see her much. I guess she just slipped away without us knowing."
"She must have used the merchant routes," Jude says. "I've travelled a fair bit around the western reaches, but it sounds like she's been all over. Can't have been easy doing that. She must have a knack of making connections."
"And here we were, thinking she was just a hermit in the woods," I say.
"That wasn't us, Amber. That was everyone else. We knew what she was."
"Did we?" I ask, looking at him. "We never knew she was a Chosen, Jude. We never knew she was the leader of the Fringer uprising."
"Well, no," he admits. "Obviously we didn't know that. But we knew she was more than she was letting on. We always thought she might have come from Olympus originally."
"Well, we got that right at least," I nod. "I suppose we can be forgiven for not guessing the rest."
We muse on the topic for some time more, until grandma's shift comes to an end, and Burton moves over to take her place. She arrives before us, finding us sitting on the bonnet still, my body very faintly glowing to combat the cold.
"You two," she says. "Thick as thieves as always. Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"
"You go ahead, Alberta," Jude says. "We'll keep it down, don't worry."
She smiles and continues on towards the back seat.
"See anything?" I ask, turning back to her.
"Guards changed," she says. "The original two went off and two others took their place. That means at least four of them down there."
"Right," I say. "Nothing else?"
"All quiet otherwise," she says, pulling the door open. "It'll be the same all night I'm sure. Try to get some rest you two. Enough nattering out here."
"Goodnight, grandma," I say, as she smiles, shakes her head, and slips inside the car.
We lower our voices accordingly as we continue our discussion, doing what we always did back home. We'd often fail to keep track of time when we sat by the lake, or in some beautiful spot in the woods or mountains, talking until the darkness was pushed back by the dawn. There's something about Jude that soothes me, helps me relax even in trying circumstances. And, right now, he's just what I need.
Eventually, however, he suggests we try to get some sleep before Burton's time is up. We slip from the front of the car and look through the window to see my grandmother sleeping peacefully i
nside. Neither of us have the heart to open the door and wake her up, so decide to simply lie on the ground instead, as I further warm my body to beat off the growing cold.
"I'll go next," Jude tells me as we lie there. "It'll give you a good stretch to sleep."
He rolls onto his side and strokes my hair, the moonlight working its way through the clouds above. I brighten my glow just a little, further illuminating his face. Those warm brown eyes reflect the light within me. I feel as connected to him as I ever have.
"You look so...beautiful," he whispers, looking down at me.
I smile and don't rebuff his compliment, his charm. I lower my shield and wait.
When he leans in to kiss me, I don't fight him off. When our lips touch, caressing gently, I don't pull away. I indulge the moment that seems so right at the time, and let it play out to conclusion. It lasts only a few seconds before he draws away again, as if not wanting to push his luck, not wanting to give me much time to think.
We don't speak after that. We merely smile and lie back down, as I dampen my glow and let the world fall into a greater darkness around us. And there, still smiling, I begin to drift off to sleep, my mind temporarily unburdened of all concerns. Worries that, for now, can be put to one side.
If only for a few short hours.
146
I'm awoken by a hand, shaking at my shoulder, and open my eyes to find my grandmother looking down at me.
"It's dawn, Amber," she whispers. "Time to act."
I lean up from the earth, feeling a little stiff. Ahead, the sun is starting to break upon the horizon, the world bursting alive with colour. I look down towards the edge of the cliff, where two figures already wait, Jude and Burton furtively looking down into the camp below.
"I haven't had my watch," I say. "Did...did Jude take it himself?"
"You'll have to ask him," she says. "It doesn't matter much now."
I get to my feet and quietly follow down towards the edge of the cliff. There, Jude and Burton are already set up with rifles, both of them provided by the Havenite and Neoroman forces. They are City Guard rifles, and highly potent. Not the pulse rifles they use, but extremely useful for ranged fighting, accurate at a far greater range than the hunting rifles and other archaic weaponry available to the Fringers.
