by T. C. Edge
Kira, I think, drawing up a picture of my friend. Is she alive still? Was she...was she there at the fort?
"That matters little," the Overseer says. "Look at Brie here. She is doing the most wondrous work. Work that, really, makes all of this of such little concern."
"Little concern?" says Avon. "Two thousand good soldiers died the other night, Master Overseer. That is not of little concern to me."
"I apologise, Herald Avon," the Overseer says, maintaining his equanimity. "I chose my words poorly. Please forgive me. But I stick by the essence of them, all the same. Brie will first win us this war. And then she will do a whole lot more. All the rest - Perses, Amber, Marcus - it is merely a distraction."
"Then you seem to know something we don't, Master Overseer," Avon says. "I do recall you expressing a similar confidence when we headed south to siege New Haven. That didn't turn out so well, did it?"
"Oh, on the contrary," the Overseer says, "I think it turned out perfectly."
He looks towards me. I feel as if I'm in a dream, watching things through a screen which I cannot penetrate. I am a passenger, only, within a body and mind that isn't under my control. I am aware of things only loosely, now. The rare moments of clarity, moments where I am myself, are becoming more few and far between.
"Our journey south led us to Brie," the Overseer goes on, addressing the group. "A war is more than just one battle, Herald Avon. To lose a battle is not to lose a war. We have lost, now, several times, and the cost of life has been dear. But in the end, it will not matter. We are all just servants in a grander game, stitching in a sprawling tapestry that we cannot fully perceive. Kovas knew this, before the end. He lost his life, and did so willingly. We must all accept this path. To die in the name, and service, of the Prime, is the great honour we all are given. In the end, each death paves the way towards a more profound victory."
Each person there begins to nod, faces of acceptance coming to dominate those that were just now contorted in concern, fear, and indignation. I find a sudden relaxation spreading among the group. I feel it myself, even though I am merely a bystander, that light inside, that warm glow that casts the darkness away.
A period of silence follows, where the Chosen and Heralds turn inward to their thoughts. When enough time has passed, the Overseer speaks again.
"You all know that our army is being strengthened," he says. "You know, too, that many thousands of Fringers are being awakened. Heralds Mendel and Zakiya are unearthing some gems, powerful individuals who will be great assets in the fight. It is...tragic, in a way, that so many will die to serve this cause. But, there can be great honour in such tragedy. The few who perish, will service the many, many more who will live free, and peaceful, in the generations to come."
He stands from his chair, drawing the eyes of the group up towards him. "Captain Marcus will make a fine addition here," he says. "He has knowledge of Neoroman siege tactics that may prove extremely useful. He will fight with distinction, I promise you. Take him under your wing, Avon. He has a power set very similar to your own."
Avon nods, accepting it. "Of course, Master Overseer," he says. "I will see it done."
"Good," says the Overseer. "Regarding Perses, and Amber, we cannot yet know their path. Yes, perhaps they are serving the enemy now, but can we blame them for that? Is it their fault that they have been manipulated so? Don't you think they're saying the very same about Brie, now, and Marcus? 'The Overseer is controlling them', they will say. 'They are not truly themselves."
He smiles to himself. "It's all very complicated, isn't it?" he goes on. "But in the end, we know our path is right, and thus we must do all we can to bring people onto it, have them travel it alongside us." He looks around the group. "We may yet have a chance to bring Perses, Amber, and Elian back to their rightful path. Do not give up on them, yet, my friends. Have faith, and you shall see it rewarded."
He takes a few steps towards me, and reaches out to take my hand. I grip it lightly, and he draws me to my feet. With a smile, Minerva steps in. He places my hand into hers, and she begins to lead me away.
The Overseer turns a final time to the group. His eyes work toward Krun, trying to look small, despite his great size. "You look comfortable there, Krun," the Overseer says, a quite contrary comment, as far as I can make out. "Hmmmm, perhaps there's no need for you to venture back down the steps quite yet." He smiles. "Given the circumstances, I think you'll be of some aid up here..."
Krun stands to his feet, his knees trembling. "A...a Chosen?" he asks.
The Overseer lifts a mighty grin. "It is wartime, my dear boy," he says. "And we need to fill our numbers." He looks into Krun's shimmering eyes. "A Chosen," he says, nodding. "Why not. Welcome to the family, Master Krun."
With that, he turns away, and steps to my right flank. With Minerva on my left, we walk back towards the stairs. A triumvirate, turning the tides of war.
171
AMBER
"Don't go, Pen," says Bryan, his voice heartfelt. "Please, don't do this."
I stand, separated from the moment, alongside the remaining leaders of the League. To the western edge of Hunter's Station, thousands of people have gathered. Bags are packed full on backs. Carts and wagons are laden down with stocks and supplies. Men, women, and children of all ages huddle in family and village groups, set to march south, as far as they can go.
"I have to, Bryan," Penelope says, her face fixing into an expression that refuses to wilt. "I...I can't let her go alone. She and her people may not have the strength, but with mine too..." she nods. "We might just make it."
"You can make it here, with us," Bryan stresses. His face has cracked, eyes shining with impending loss. I wonder if these two are more than just friends. "Don't leave, Pen. We're safer here, together."
She draws him into a hug, responding only through her touch. Pulling back, she looks to my grandmother, who steps towards her.
"I hear it's safer in the east," my grandmother says. "East of New Haven, towards the coast. There are villages there that live in peace. The Neoromans come and go from that coastline. It will...it will become more ordered in the coming years, as ties between Neorome and New Haven strengthen." She takes her into a warm hug. "Watch out for bandits on the road. Keep men on watch, night and day. Stay together, and stay vigilant. You'll make it, Pen, if you're smart."
"And lucky," Penelope smiles. "I'm not foolish enough to think luck won't count."
"It always plays its part," my grandmother says sagely. Her eyes smile too, as they look fondly at the younger woman. Then they grow sad as they lift to the distance, where Judith waits at the head of her people. "She'll need you," she says softly. "Be strong for her, OK?"
"Of course, of course I will."
"You have enough food and weapons?" grandma asks.
"We do."
"You're certain?"
"I'm certain, Alberta. More than enough to start fresh. We'll send people back when we settle. Who knows, maybe you could join us when all this is done?"
"Of perhaps you could return here?" grandma says.
They smile at one another again. I hardly know Penelope, or anyone within this cause, but the moment is touching for me to witness.
My grandmother's eyes turn to the moody skies. "You should go," she says, her voice ready to crack. "You have a couple of hours of daylight left. Don't travel long into the night, Pen. Remember, there are people out there who can see in the dark. Daylight is your ally. Don't fight it, OK?"
"I know, Alberta. I know what to expect."
I wonder if she really does, but trust that she's the right person to lead these people. She has something about her, a composure and determination that will stand her in good stead. Alone, I don't think Judith and her people would stand a chance. With Penelope, perhaps they may.
I dearly hope that is the case.
Once more, my grandmother draws her into a final hug. Penelope lifts a smile and turns to the rest of us, holding her composure as her eyes turn to
Burton, Keith, and finally to Bryan once more. She lifts a palm to his cheek, as tears run down through the cracks in her fingers. And with a final look into his weeping eyes, she turns and steps away.
We stand for a time, watching as thousands of Fringers leave these lands, a great exodus journeying south, venturing into places unknown. Though I'm sad they're leaving, I hope with all I have that they find somewhere to settle. Never before have so many Fringers escaped the yoke of Olympus. It is a landmark moment, one built on hope and yet tinged with sadness and regret. A moment I pray doesn't end in tragedy.
"They will find their way," my grandmother says, as we watch them disappear into the distance. "Do not doubt your decision to stay. I promise to make sure you won't regret it."
Her words seem to be aimed specifically at Bryan, disconsolate as he stands there. Burton was never intending to go. Keith, it turns out, didn't give it much thought either, too committed to these lands to leave them without a fight. Only Bryan found himself on the fence, caught between his deep caring for Penelope, and the duty to his own people, who remain loyal to my grandmother and the bulk of our forces.
My grandmother moves to him now and draws him into a maternal hug. "The dawn will bring lighter thoughts," she whispers. "We remain strong, and will still get stronger. We will battle this loss by taking a stand. We will not leave the rest of the Fringe to suffer at the hands of their masters."
Her words are inspiring, always well delivered, even if now isn't necessarily the time. I'm sure we'll take a day or two to lick our wounds and consolidate our position. I'm sure nothing will happen now until the main army arrives, and we feel secure enough to act, and lend aid where we can. But, within all that, I wonder if something Judith said was true. I wonder whether my grandmother truly does seek vengeance on the Olympians who cast her out, on the Prime and Overseer specifically, who tore her from the life she knew, and set her on this path.
I ponder it, as I look at her, and listen to her dramatic words. There is something there, certainly, that drives her beyond a mere love for her people. This isn't only about them, I know, but I don't consider that a bad thing. Vengeance can be a powerful motivator, so long as it doesn't become all-consuming. And though I know my grandmother seeks retribution against those who wronged her, those feelings haven't overpowered her duty to the Fringe. They are a secondary factor, I'm certain, in directing her on this course.
We break up eventually, as the skies continue to darken, unable and unwilling to dwell any longer on the fracturing of our people. To the west, more people continue to arrive, some trailing in tiny groups of three of four, others in much large convoys of hundreds, emptying from villages in far flung corners of the Fringe. A sizeable contingent seems to be arriving, giving an opportunity to distract Bryan from his woe.
"See them housed, Bryan," grandma says. "It's best for you to stay active and busy now. Turn your mind to your work. You will see Penelope again, I'm sure."
Her words serve to give him strength, enough to refocus and continue in his purpose. With the loss of thousands from the town, space has certainly been freed up, especially where Penelope's people had first settled on the eastern side. The loss of a number of our militia, however, has given Keith a bit of a headache. He will now need to rearrange patrols and sentry rotas, make sure that the eastern flank is being watched, a duty that was being seen to by Penelope's people.
As the town begins to return to its flow, I move with Jude and Keith to see where I can lend a hand. I have no official position among them, of course, knowing that I'll be coming and going. It allows me to focus on what I know best, keeping vigilant should the town come under attack.
"The Olympians must know we're gathering here now," I say to Jude and Keith, as grandma sets off with Burton elsewhere. "If they didn't know already, they'll have found out from Edgar's people. It might be wise to double the watch."
Keith nods, seeming of the same mind. "I plan to, Amber," he says. "But if they come here, they'll be in for a rude awakening." He lifts his eyes. "Excuse the pun."
My lips crack, his dry humour delivering some light relief. It's the sort of thing we need right now. There's little better than humour, intentional or otherwise, to dispel the fog of tension and despair.
With new conscripts continually being added to the militia - each influx of new people, of course, brings more willing to join up - I find my time best served in helping outfit them. Under orders from Keith, Jude and I head for the weapons store room to hand out arms for those sent our way. I can't be certain, but I suspect Keith is happy for my help, if only to inspire the newcomers. Word of my exploits is quickly spreading, of course, and I'm already well known across the Fringe. For me to be the one handing each new member a weapon, gives them something extra to cling to, some further vindication, perhaps, that they're doing the right thing.
I'm happy enough if that's the case, and have grown used to staring eyes. I've had them ever since I went to Olympus as an outsider and supposed heretic. Ever since I competed in the Trial of the Chosen against those who looked down on me. Ever since I became a Herald, and then was taken in by the Havenites. Oh, it's been months, now, of sideward glances and secretive stairs, accompanying the downright glares and looks of hatred I've also had to deal with.
Frankly, it doesn't make me uncomfortable anymore. And in this case, dealing with looks of awe and veneration is quite a pleasant turn when compared to what I've had to contend with before.
We set ourselves up in the weapons store room, then, handing out the weapons to the new recruits sent to see us. Some of the firearms, of course, are far more potent than others, the Olympian rifles considerably more effective than the old hunting rifles that the Fringers are used to. It is down to us to arbitrarily select who to give the better weapons to, a matter that usually involves a little bit of questioning.
Jude, as it turns out, is quite useful in that regard, given his experience as a hunter. His first question, of course, is always along those lines.
"Have you used a rifle before?" he'll ask. "Do you have any hunting experience?"
He's intuitive enough to see who's telling the truth, and who's lying to make themselves sound more experienced - perhaps, I suspect, in the hope of getting a better weapon. We're told that, in the coming days, Keith and Burton will be arranging target practice to further determine how the better firearms should be distributed, but right now this is all we've got. And Jude proves himself very capable at judging character.
He does, however, have a slight soft spot for certain individuals, something which tends to override his reason. When a man or woman walks in, sporting a brand of Defiant on their cheek, I see his eyes change every time. He leans in, and listens carefully, as they speak of their experience, of their desire now to seek revenge.
The questions fall to the side. He doesn't query them on their experience. He doesn't ask them if they're hunters. He merely takes possession of an Olympian rifle, and places it into their hands.
He may not be impartial, but I doubt it will matter. We have plenty of Olympian rifles, now, to go around, and it may all turn out to be a moot exercise anyway. Will they actually see combat, these hardy men and women? Will those rifles ever be put to use? None of us can know.
It isn't until some time later, with the night air turning to a bitter cold, that I see the door opening and my father walking in. Even though I knew of his intentions to join, I remain surprised by his sudden appearance. He marches forward, adopting a military step, acting as a regular soldier might to a superior, even though he's addressing his daughter and her friend.
"Father," I say, sitting up in my chair. "How...how are you?"
His manner doesn't crack or change. He steps up to attention, his hands behind his back. "I'm well, Amber," he says. "I was told to come and be fitted with a weapon?"
Jude nods, and steps immediately towards the great stacks of rifles. He returns a moment later with one forged in Olympus.
"Here you are, Richard," h
e says, handing my father the weapon. He asks no questions, as he already knows the answers. My father is a fisherman, not a hunter. He has never held, let alone fired, a rifle before. But he gives him one of the best anyway. "They'll be holding weapons training tomorrow, teaching everyone how to use them. They'll give you a good grounding on it, don't worry."
My father nods, not insulted as he might once have been to be talked to in such a way. He's a proud man, but rational too. He knows his place here, just as he does Jude's.
"How's mother?" I ask him, as he looks briefly over the weapon, large and yet light, the weapon of men he once worshiped and revered.
His eyes turn up. "She's worried, Amber, as you might expect. She...she doesn't want me here."
Nor do I, I think, though I don't utter the words.
"I heard about what happened at the fort," he goes on. "You returned last night?"
I nod. "Sorry I didn't come and see you. I've been so busy, we just ended up staying here, and..."
"You don't need to explain, Amber. Not to me. But, if you get the chance, go and see your mother. She knows you're safe, but won't fully believe it until she sees you. You...know what she's like."
"I'll try," I say. "I'll be here for the next couple of days, probably. I'll try to come by tomorrow if I can."
"Good. She'd like that. So," he glances to Jude, "you're not staying?"
I don't really know how to answer the question. Part of me would very much like to. I feel a part of this cause, a leader among these people. But, when the time comes, I know I'll want to join the main army, march upon the city walls. It isn't a desire to do any more killing that drives me, but a more singular focus that beckons me back to Olympus.
My sister, Lilly.
She remains there now, trapped in a city set to be besieged. I have my parents back, I have Jude and grandma here with me, and Elian safe within the coalition high command. Now, only Lilly remains in immediate, and unknown, danger.
