by T. C. Edge
With a few older members among us, we take time helping them make the climb, finally reaching the top of the great steps as the sun continues it's climb through early morning. We find my grandmother and Burton there in conversation. It seems slightly strained. As soon as my parents appear, however, grandma steps right over.
"Richard," she says, stepping towards my father, her son. "I'm happy to see that you are safe."
"Mother," says my father, dipping his head. I sense a similar shame in him as when he spoke earlier with me. "I...I had no idea you were... I'm sorry."
"How could you have an idea, Richard?" grandma says. "I never told you who I really was on purpose. It wasn't your fault."
He nods, the greeting slightly awkward. Their relationship has broken down over the years, getting to the point where they'd hardly ever see one another. My grandmother, my parents thought, was a bad influence upon myself and Lilly. She corrupted me, of course, but they wouldn't let her do the same with my sister. Eventually, she stopped coming by, and they stopped going to see her.
It was one of the great tragedies of our family, seeing it split like that. And when it did, I suppose I fell down upon my grandmother's side. It will, despite all these truths coming out about who and what my grandmother was, take time to heal those rifts.
"It's wonderful to see you again, Alberta," my mother says, stepping in and drawing her into a hug. "I...I came by, when everything happened with Lilly and Amber. I wanted to see you, but...you weren't there. Or, wouldn't answer."
"I've been...busy, Madeline," my grandmother says. "A lot has been happening across the Fringe, and for some time now. Yet much more remains to be done." She looks back towards Burton, waiting nearby as the Fringers group towards the top of the cliff. "We cannot stop here long. We need to get these people to safety."
We move off towards the others, as I scan the group ahead. It isn't only the Fringers there among them, of course, but several therapists as well. I can see them looking on sheepishly, trying to make themselves small. Their eyes glance over to me, knowing full well who I am. It's something that still concerns me. Should they return to Olympus, what I've done here will get out, and may reach the ears of Herald Kovas. I fear for Lilly's safety should that happen.
"What shall we do with them?" I say, looking towards them. "We can't kill them, but can't let them go either."
"Why not?" asks Burton, as we gather into a group. "Let them fend for themselves out there. They're no concern to us."
"But if they report to Olympus," I start.
"Then what?" Burton cuts in. "The Children of the Prime already know we're at war. What does a skirmish like this matter to them."
"I don't want them knowing about my involvement," I say. "Look at them. They know me. I don't want that being reported."
"There's little you can do about that now, Amber," says grandma, understanding my wider concerns. "I'm afraid to say it, but word will travel quick enough to Olympus that you're siding with the invaders now. It won't come as much of a surprise, given what you've told me."
"But...Lilly," I say. "Grandma, if Kovas knows I'm killing Olympians, he'll..." I draw a breath and stop myself, seeing the look on my mother's face.
"He'll do nothing to her, Amber," grandma assures me. "Don't think too much into it. We control some things, but not this. Not right now. It isn't worth you thinking too deeply on it."
"I know," I say, hating the idea. "But I'd rather not give Kovas anything extra he might use. I know I'm probably being paranoid, but I can't help that. I'd feel more comfortable if we don't let the therapists go."
"Then kill them," I hear someone say to the side. I turn to see a middle aged man stepping towards us, his voice croaky. He looks pale, his greying hair lank and balding in places. There's a horror to his expression that suggests he's been here, at the camp, for some time. "Kill every one of them," he says grimly. "They deserve it. They all deserve it."
His words, spoken loudly, draw the crowd's attention. I see a number of them joining in, nodding vociferously, or vocally calling out their support. Within moments only, much of the group are engaged, some of them actively grabbing at the three remaining therapists as they cower and back away.
Then, before I even know it, everything descends into a frenzy, as a violence suddenly spills over. It escalates more quickly than I could have imagined, several of the men and women among the crowd physically attacking the therapists, pushing them to the ground and swinging fists and legs and whatever else they can find.
Our little leadership group reacts immediately, my father and Jude and Burton first to rush in and try to break things up. I follow, lending what aid I can. Without using any of my powers, of course, I'm not particularly strong when compared to the likes of Jude and Burton.
The short riot, however, is quickly broken up as the crowd, their anger boiling over, is temporarily calmed. My father, once more, proves his worth, calling out to them to clear their heads and think.
"Violence won't get us anywhere," he shouts to them, as the therapists are drawn away, protected by Burton and Jude. I wonder, briefly, if they were the very same people who saw to Jude's therapy here. This can't be easy for him, protecting those who put him through so much. "I know you've all been through a lot, but it won't serve us to look for vengeance here," my father continues. "If we kill these people then we're no better than they are."
"We are better than they are!" the original protester calls out. "They think they're divine, but we know that's not true. That's why we're all here, isn't it!" he looks around. "The Fringe is waking up. We need to fight for ourselves now."
"This isn't a fight," my father returns. "These people are defenceless. What you're talking about is murder."
The man takes a heavy breath, my father's words starting to get through to him. "Then...what?" he asks. "We can't let them go. They have to pay somehow."
"They're just part of a system," I say, stepping forward. All eyes turn to me. I sense a flicker of awe at my presence, at the woman of fire who saved them. "A system we've all lived in all our lives. Yes, maybe they're all terrible people who took joy in what they did to you. Or maybe they were merely forced to do it. We can't judge them all that easily. It's more complicated than that."
"And...who are you?" asks the man. Unlike the others, he doesn't seem in awe of me, doesn't seem so afraid. He seems a man who's given up on such things. "You're one of them, aren't you? Why are you speaking as if you've lived like we have? How can you know what it's like living on the Fringe?"
"Because I'm from the Fringe," I say. "Until a few months ago, I'd spent my entire life not far from here. I was taken to Olympus and drawn into a lie. I have seen both sides, I assure you."
"So...it's you?" the man says, coming to a realisation. "You're the Fringer who became a Herald?"
A murmuring spreads. Some may have already come to that conclusion. Those that haven't widen their eyes as they look at me.
"I'm no Herald," I say. "Not anymore. I'm just someone who fights for my people. All of my people."
"And what does that mean? All your people?" asks the old man.
"It means I'm fighting for the freedom of all good people across these lands, both here and in Olympus." I turn to my grandmother. "This woman is called Alberta," I call out. "She is my grandmother, and a Fire-Blood like me. She is of Olympus, but has lived here for many decades. Now, she fights for the Fringe, as I, as all of us, do. She has been leading the charge for many years. She is the one we should follow."
Another murmuring sounds as the people look at her. They saw, of course, the fire flooding from the top of the quarry, but don't, perhaps, realise it came from her.
She steps forwards, exuding that natural authority I now know she bears.
"My granddaughter is right," she says. "There are many good people in Olympus, as there are across the Fringe. We are going to tear down the boundaries that separate us. Rid these lands of the corrupt and cast off the yoke of slavery and service." S
he looks around, as the people whisper and murmur. "Many of you, perhaps, have heard the rumours. There is an army coming from the south, marching here to defeat the Prime. As a people, we need to support them. That should not begin with murder."
The people look again to the therapists, cowering on their knees behind Jude and Burton. I feel the overall angst of the crowd starting to disperse. Whatever these people have been through, they are not killers. I can tell that much already.
I slip to my grandmother's side, taking a moment to speak to her alone. "We don't have transport for these people, grandma," I whisper. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave them alone out here."
She nods, considering it. Then she raises her voice once more. "Where have you all come from?" she asks. "Does anyone live nearby to here?"
Most of the people appear not to know by the looks on their faces. Like Jude, it's quite possible that they were brought here blindfolded, and have no idea where home really is. A couple, however, do appear to be aware. Perhaps they already knew about this place before being taken here.
"I come from a town about ten miles away," a young woman calls out. She points towards the plains, brightening as the sun continues its climb. "A town called Millwater, on the edge of an old reservoir. It's no more than two or three hours walk from here."
Burton steps over at that, leaving Jude and my father to guard the Olympian therapists. "I know it," he says, joining my grandmother and I. "Decent sized town. I'm heading that way anyway. Got a few people there who are part of the League." He looks around. "Seems we may have a few more now."
My grandmother nods. "We'll take these people there," she says. "Keep the therapists prisoner somewhere for the time being."
"I can lead them, Alberta," Burton says. "You have other things to be getting on with. No need to come as well."
"Are you sure, Burt?"
"It's no trouble," he says. "I'll find a carriage there easy enough. It'll take me a day or two to rally the people. Then we'll head for Hunter's Station."
"Thank you, Burt," grandma says, resting a hand on his upper arm and squeezing. "We'll see you there in a few day's time. Be safe."
"I'm always safe," he replies, raising a grisly grin. He lifts his rifle. "Especially with this around. I'm keeping it, by the way," he says, looking to me.
"Oh, you've earned it," I say, smiling. "Some good shooting back there."
"Lots of practice," he says. His eyes flick to Jude nearby. "The boy's a fine shot," he goes on. "He'll fit in nicely with us I think."
"He will indeed," grandma says. "We'll find him something to fit his talents when we gather at Hunter's Station."
"If you're sure. I could do with his help, if he's up for it."
I feel a minor throb of worry at the idea. My grandmother, quite in tune with my feelings, looks over me. Then, she begins shaking her head.
"Sorry, Burt," she says. "I'd love to help, but Jude's the only one who knows how to drive the jeep. You'll be fine without him. Get to Millwater as soon as you can, and find your supporters."
"Fine," he says. "But I'm setting a quick pace. They'd better be able to keep up."
"Burt," grandma says, a little sternly. "Get them to Millwater. All of them. OK?"
He lets out a sigh, idly looking over at the more elderly members of the small group. Ten miles is a lot of ground for some people to cover.
"I will," he says eventually. "But I'm doing it my way. Don't worry about it, Alberta. You've got plenty to think about yourself right now."
He nods at us at that, and then moves off, calling out to the group. I hear him quickly assemble them and pass on his orders. Then he asks for the fittest and youngest to step forward, and asks for volunteers to run ahead to Millwater and return with a wagon or two for the less able-bodied.
"Good idea," I say to grandma as we move off, Jude and my parents coming with us. "Nice way to cut a few corners."
"He's efficient, I'll give him that," she replies. "Always has been. We need good leaders like him."
We move off towards the jeep, the morning successful in some ways, and a failure in others. Yes, I have my parents back, and we've saved plenty of others. But, in doing so, many innocents have fallen. It is this war, I suppose, in a microcosm.
I find myself falling into a short period of self-rebuke as we go, knowing I acted rashly when I saw my parents being whipped.
You have to be smarter than that, Amber, I tell myself. You can't act so rashly or be led by your emotions. One day, it'll get someone you really care about killed.
Because that's the thing, sometimes...
The more you try to save someone you care about, the more danger you're likely to put them in. And just as down in the camp, as we try to liberate the Fringe, and the good people of Olympus, the more innocent life is going to be lost.
It is something, I suppose, that is unavoidable.
Something we all have to learn to live with.
149
The occupants of the jeep have changed again, Burton now replaced by my parents.
It's a slightly tighter squeeze, though nothing we can't handle, as I sit between my parents in the backseat, filling them in on the many things that have happened to me.
It's not the same, of course, as when I did the same with Jude, or my grandmother. My relationship with those two has always been different, more open and honest. Now, despite the changes my parents have been through in their outlook and perspective, the exchange of information doesn't come so easy.
It will take time, I know, for us all to rebuild the relationships that had decayed over the years, my bond with my father particularly fraught. And though I take them through the broad strokes of my experience, I don't do so with the same energy and enthusiasm as I have before. Years of conditioning, of believing the Children of the Prime, and the Chosen and Heralds in particular, to be divine, isn't easy to completely strip away. And as I speak of those I've met, of the things I've done, my mother, in particular, can't help but look at me with a note of awe.
The journey, of course, allows for further discussion between the others as well. As Jude - after what can only amount to an hour or two of proper sleep at most - continues his vigil behind the wheel, my grandmother turns back and tries to mend a few bonds of her own with her son. It's at times heartwarming, and at times awkward, but within that little jeep, there's little else for us to do.
The drive back to Pine Lake lasts only an hour and a half or so, giving us time - but not too much time - to explore the larger issues we've faced over the years. Some we skirt over, others we spend some time with. My grandmother's past, as a Chosen in Olympus, is something else that my mother, in particular, finds it hard to get her head around.
She can be forgiven for that, of course. It's a lot for anyone to get their head around, and her reaction and interest is much like Grace's was; quite overwhelmed to learn about the full extent of her mother-in-law's past.
I find myself, however, marginally frustrated by the direction in which we're travelling. I understand, certainly, but that doesn't lessen the growing urgency I feel at wishing to get back to Hunter's Station and, more importantly, the fort to the north. Pine Lake isn't on the way home. In fact, we're going in almost the opposite direction right now, heading there for the simple reason of picking up Grace.
It wasn't, in the end, something that was even up for debate. Grace may well be safe now at my grandmother's cabin, and might well be too if she returned to her own home, but it's not a chance any of us, Jude most of all, are willing to take.
And, as a small side-benefit, it may give grandma another chance to see the other leaders of the Fringe Liberation League. With what we saw down in the faith-realignment camp, there may be more for us to discuss.
It's still morning when Pine Lake comes back into view, the main square still lying in ruin as we drive past. I see my mother, face up against the window, look on in distress as we pass by. I wrap my arm over her shoulder to comfort her.
&n
bsp; "It's OK, mother," I say. "It won't take much to rebuild. Pine Lake got away a lot lighter than other places we’ve seen."
"It's not that," she says, shaking her head. She reaches for the brand on her cheek, still raw to the touch. Her hand retracts quickly, as though it's something she can't bring herself to think about.
"Who did it?" I ask gently. "Do you know?"
She dips her eyes. "Who do you think?" she says.
I frown. "Ceres?" I ask. "Ceres did this to you?"
I look to my father, and then back at my mother. She nods, grimacing as she recalls the recent memory.
"Grace never mentioned that," I say, bunching my fists as I look to grandma. "She never said it was him."
"Why should she have?" grandma says. "She doesn't know of your past with Ceres."
I narrow my gaze to an alarmingly tight level. "He did this because of me," I growl. "He knew I'd find out." I turn to my mother. "I'm...I'm so sorry, mother. Father," I add, looking to him. "This is all my fault."
My father's hand comes down onto mine. "This isn't your fault, Amber. It is mine. I should have controlled myself better."
"But Ceres," I growl again. "I humiliated him in Olympus. This is his way of getting back at me."
"A bonus for him, perhaps," my father tells me, remaining stoic, "but not the main reason." He reaches to my mother, and wipes a tear from her eye. A tender moment that I've so rarely seen them share. "I'm sorry, Madeline," he says softly. "If I hadn't spoken out, then this would never have happened."
"You did what you had to," my mother says weakly. "You spoke out for our daughters." She turns to look at him with a smile. "And I love you for that."
With me in the middle, they look across lovingly at one another, something I've seen too little of over the years. If nothing else, this experience has brought them together, made them closer. Everything they have been through - we have been through - will forge us into a closer family in time.
