by T. C. Edge
"I'm not talking about them," the man says with a dose of derision, eyes darting back to the other prisoners once again. "I'm not one of them. I only joined them to seek revenge and nothing more. Oh no, the true tonic to the sickness here will come. I have witnessed the goodness, and the power, in them. I know they won't stand for this wickedness and evil long."
"Haven," I whisper, peering closer at him. "You're speaking of Haven, aren't you?"
He lifts his eyes, sitting back with bearded chin raised. He seems to enjoy the light tone of fear that ripples through my voice.
"So you know," he says, nodding slowly. "You know your awful actions have been seen."
"Not mine," I breathe out, almost pained by the insinuation. "And not those of most of us here."
"I'm sorry, girl," the man growls, "but I don't believe that for a second. You, perhaps, are of good nature. Maybe others here are too. But it isn't you or they who matter. It is those at the top who need to fall. You're just a servant of their will, aren't you? You don't have any power to act freely."
"I do," I say, growing a little too flustered. "Of course I do. I choose to be here. I choose to fight to protect my people. Who wouldn't do that?"
My words spill into the carriage, and the colour of my armour begins to glow brighter. The man leans back instinctively from the heat, a heavy frown cast over his eyes as he presses himself back.
I take a steadying breath and cool my blood, easing the heat within the carriage. A silence falls for a moment, giving us both a chance to calm.
"What exactly are you?" comes his voice eventually. "I saw you out there. You were like living flame. I've never seen anything like that."
"I'm a Fire-Blood," I say proudly. "A Fire Elemental. And you seem to hate Heralds? Well, you're looking at one. I'm a Herald of War. And I'll do all I can to protect my people."
He shakes his head slowly at that, a saddened, almost disappointed cast to his eyes.
"A weapon," he says. "That's what they've made you. That was their intent for me as well. I wonder...how many others here have been sucked into their web of lies?"
I find myself without an answer, a conflict beginning to brew inside me once again. I turn my eyes from him and out of the carriage window, looking into the thick yellow-brown smog that coats the plains. Within them, the faint shadows of great statues loom. I notice one that looks like the Prime, the dual figures standing side by side. And with the sight of them, a warmth comforts my heart once again. I turn back to the man with a smile.
"My name is Amber, and my title is Herald," I tell him defiantly. "Out there, the great city of Olympus awaits. You will witness strength and power like you've never seen before. Any information you have, and are trying to hide, will be easily extracted. And perhaps, soon enough, you'll come around..."
"I will never come around," the man growls. He stares at me with an azure fire in his blue eyes, hating the world and everything in it.
And in that face another faint memory stirs inside me.
Wasn't I like this not so long ago? Wasn't it the Overseer himself telling me that I'd come around and see the light, just as I'm doing with this man now?
"I have no desire to lie. I have nothing to hide," he goes on. "Do whatever you will with me, Herald Amber. My name is Marius, proud husband to Mandy, hunter and tracker from a peaceful village far from here, and I don't care for you or your lofty titles."
I go quiet, my energy quelled by his rebuking, disrespectful tone. I feel suddenly like a child being reprimanded by someone much older, much wiser. Someone who has experienced the world and isn't to be in the least bit intimidated or lectured by a stupid girl of just seventeen, no matter how powerful and gifted.
And yes, right then, I do feel stupid. It's a feeling I hate, and one that brews anger.
I set my eyes on him again, back against the wall, belligerently fighting my own corner.
"We'll see what you care about soon enough," I tell the man called Marius. "Oh, you say you've seen the power of Haven, but just wait until you look upon Olympus. I know it was two soldiers who took out Herald Nestor and his men. I know they must be highly gifted to do such a thing. But do you think we don't have people like that ourselves? You saw Herald Perses. And you saw what I could do. Oh, we are the tip of the iceberg, Marius. Olympus is a place of gods, and no mortal city will defeat us."
He stares at me, shaking his head slowly, unperturbed by my speech. A bored grin works up onto his face, and then a huffing laugh coughs up from his lungs.
"Take me to your gods then," he smirks, full of contempt and scorn, "and let me tell them what I've told you." He leans forward, muscular body drawing his chains tight. "Your time is coming to an end," he growls. "Your evil has been seen, and will not be tolerated. Whatever happens to me, whether I'm killed or turned into a slave like you, it doesn't really matter. In the end, good will always prevail. And no force of evil here can stop it."
He leans back again, smiling in a strange, deranged sort of fashion, and then shuts his eyes tight. It is a clear sign to me that this conversation is over. And one that leaves me feeling uneasy in so many different ways.
My mind turns about, pondering his words in a renewed silence. Oh, I always believed as he does, didn't I? I always believed that Olympus and those within it were corrupt and cruel, a wicked people living off the sweat and blood and toil of others, controlling them through strength and lies. Yes, there are people like that still, of that I cannot deny. Yet there are many others of good and kind nature as well.
It isn't an evil place, not really. From what I've seen, the city is peaceful, forward thinking, and progressive. And though the people of the Fringe do live to serve them, perhaps that's just how it's meant to be. During my time there, I saw few people who were unhappy with the status quo. Who was I to ever doubt the shared feelings of a sprawling populous? Who was I to question their faith and devotion if it made them happy and content?
There are certainly black marks within my experience. The execution of Raymond and his allies was an unfortunate, harrowing event, one I fear was designed in part to reveal me to the world. It was, above all, about maintaining control, and preventing any type of mutiny from rising up from the embers of Raymond's heretical preaching.
A part of me, perhaps, can understand that. Not agree with it. Not like it. But at least understand the reasoning behind it.
I look at Marius once again, sitting almost content now, a faint smile upon his bearded face. He witnessed evil, that is for sure, and Nestor's methods certainly cannot be endorsed. But he saw only a snapshot of what life is like here. He doesn't truly know who and what we are.
I sit there as the convoy rolls on, and convince myself of it all. I tuck the dark thoughts deep within, and let the light consume me. Sliding nearer to the window, I turn my eyes back out and watch the world pass by. My world. Not perfect, by any means, but the one I've been given.
And the one I must protect.
16
The last hours upon the road are uncomfortable, and not only because I'm travelling in one of the functional military carriages rather than Black Thunder. No, it is being in the presence of Marius that does it, sitting there enveloped by his dark, brooding energy.
We share no further words as the city finally looms ahead, the thickset man sitting with arms folded and eyes closed. While the other captives look up through the windows in wonder and dread at the mighty walls and great gate, Marius merely ignores it all as I once did, reflecting my own experience from weeks ago.
I notice a slight change in the outer bastions as we reach the drawbridge and start to cross the moat. Above, set upon the walls, I see a larger contingent of soldiers, eagle eyed Farsights searching the distance for any looming threat. And when we enter into the courtyard, paved in its multi-coloured stone, a further military presence reveals itself, several large troops of men seemingly preparing to march out and protect the borders of the Fringe, as Perses ordered.
By the looks of the gath
ering of citizens and interested onlookers, word seems to have spread beyond military boundaries of our fatal mission. Many of them stand in solemn silence as we roll gently into the city, the convoy now lacking one carriage that set out in another direction to deliver the grieving Devotees to their new homes and villages.
Headed as always by Black Thunder, the people bow and dip their eyes in respect. I don't know if it's for Herald Perses that they salute, or whether they somehow know the dreadful cargo his great carriage now hauls. Either way, a reverential silence accompanies our way back into the city and out of the main square, our path taking us towards the very same dungeons that I once inhabited not so long ago.
When we arrive in that dark, austere square, flanked by barracks and other military transports, the soldiers step out and move over to Black Thunder. There, they carefully gather up the dead to be taken to the morgue, their official burials down in the crypts set to be undertaken the following day. I watch from outside the rear carriage as Perses oversees matters. Only when all the fallen have been moved does he turn and march towards me, Krun and several snarling soldiers at his side.
"Take them to the cells," Perses orders his men, pointing to the door of the carriage. I step to one side and watch as the carriage is opened up, and the bound captives torn out from within like wriggling guts from an disemboweled deer.
Led by Krun, who carries that same raging look as when he taunted Jude and I in this very same spot, all five prisoners are hastily drawn away, Marius the last to be removed. As the others attempt to struggle, wild like rabid dogs, the large hunter merely casts his eyes upon us all as if hoping the glare will curse us. His eyes pay particular attention to Perses, who so easily bested him in their bout. With a scowl and a snort, he shakes his head, and then, casting his eyes about, begins to bellow in laughter.
"Another fort," he roars. "Another cell. There's nothing more you can do to me that I haven't already endured!"
Krun, standing significantly taller and stretching significantly wider, steps before him at that. He peers down his bulbous nose at Marius, teeth barred in a snarl. "That sounds like a challenge, little man," he growls. "Five minutes with me and you'll be thinking again. Or not at all."
"Captain," comes Perses's calm, commanding voice. "The prisoners are not to be harmed, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Krun drones deeply, still staring down at Marius. He grabs the man by the arm, coiling enormous fingers around his thick bicep. "Come along, runt. We'll find a cell to fit you."
He bellows cruelly at that, following behind the others. A sense of deja vu takes hold of me as I watch them depart...
"Amber," says Perses, demanding my attention. "What did you find out from him?"
"I..." I turn back to him, slightly confused by his meaning.
"He seemed of the talkative variety," Perses elaborates. "Not the sort to need torture and interrogation to give away information. Did he say anything of interest?"
"Well, some things, yes," I say. Then I frown. "Did you put me with him because you thought he might speak to me? Or...or because you thought I'd nosily seek answers?" I don't know why, but the thought irks me somewhat. It's the thought of being used that I don't like.
"Amber, that is not the reason at all. The Overseer will have no trouble at all getting all the information we desire. I merely thought you best for the job, that's all."
"Hmmmm," I mumble, not entirely believing him. "Well, I did speak with him a bit. He told me that Nestor killed his wife and sister, massacred his people, held sacrifices, and pretty much did the worst things imaginable. I can see why he hates us."
"Yes," Perses muses, hand to chin. "I would never blame a man for that. I assume he was freed by the two soldiers from Haven? He must have come this way seeking vengeance. I know many would do the same if they had lost everything they cared about."
"That's pretty much what I got from him, yeah," I say. "He's not a part of the Cure, and seems to really dislike them actually. He seemed to me to be broken, Perses. Like he doesn't care if he dies or not. It's...sad, really."
"Tragic even," Perses says. "But a man who comes to our lands seeking retribution is still our enemy, Amber. Nestor and his men are dead. He would aim his fury at any one of us, innocent or otherwise, and not care either way. That is a man who belongs in a cell."
"But isn't the entire point of the Heralds of Awakening to discover new Children like Marius, making him one of us now?" I ask. "Didn't that very thing happen to you?"
"It did, as it did many of us here..."
"But it was different with you," I cut in. "You didn't suffer like Marius did. Your powers were awoken and you were brought here willingly. Marius had to see his wife and sister die during their transformation. In fact, he said everyone did except him." I narrow my eyes on Perses. "Is that what all Heralds of Awakening do? How many innocent people have to die before they find someone who survives the process?"
Perses raises a hand, fingers stretched out, palm down. "Calm, Amber," he says. "Do not allow the fire to run free on your tongue. I told you before, Nestor's techniques were particular to him. He used a highly perilous method to extract the very deepest threads of divinity from within his subjects. He believed that only those with significant power were worthy of ascension. Those who didn't survive were, in his eyes, unworthy."
"And so he killed them," I whisper, my voice full of gloom. "That's sick, Perses."
"I find it hard to disagree with you, but you don't know the full story. The world isn't quite as black and white as you see it. It comprises many shades of grey, and unless you're privy to the full spectrum, it's difficult to make a complete judgement. The problem is, people act rashly upon evidence of darkness, even if it is balanced by a great deal more light that they never even see. They see the evil and consider it the norm. That is so rarely the case."
"You're talking about these soldiers from Haven, aren't you?" I ask. "You're saying that they saw the darkness, the evil, that Nestor committed, and now imagine that we're all like that."
Perses nods, smiling softly. "Wars have been started for less," he says sagely. "And when they start, they are difficult to stop. Like pebbles that begin an avalanche, they can end up causing great and terrible destruction and strife."
"Then send out emissaries," I say, just as I suggested before. "If you really think a war is coming, wouldn't it be better to try to prevent it without any bloodshed? I just don't understand."
"You will, young Herald," he says. "You'll learn that some fires are difficult to put out when they are set aflame. Our culture here is so different to down south and across the sea. We have hugely disparate ideologies, and that is often a cause of great friction between cities and nations. I fear that no matter what we say, the Havenites and their new allies will see us as a terrible threat to them. It may be something that no form of diplomacy can stop."
"And conquering new lands?" I question bluntly. "Spreading from here and establishing new cities and outposts? Dominating this continent and placing all under our rule? Is that not something the Prime desires?"
Perses's eyes creep behind a bushy frown, pondering my words and wondering just where they might have come from.
"This Marius told you this, did he?" he asks.
I nod. "He told me that he heard Nestor's soldiers talking about such things. That conquering new lands was always the plan."
"And what do you think of that, Amber? Do you think it so wrong?"
"I...I don't know. It depends."
"Yes, of course it depends. Things are never so simple, are they. It depends on a great many things. If, for example, those lands are occupied by dangerous bandits and raiders like those of the Cure, then wouldn't it be better to wipe them out. Perhaps free the local people living in fear under their rule, and the constant threat of violence they bring? There are others out there too, just like the Cure. Dangerous tribes and gangs of wicked men who seek only primitive and base desires. They swarm like vermin, taking what they wish, kill
ing with impunity anyone who stands in their way. That is the state of these lands, Amber. There are few shining lights here."
"And Haven?" I ask. "Is that a light in your eyes?"
"It is. Or...was," Perses says. "Haven is a complicated, multi-faceted society. I have never heard of any intention from the Prime to seek to conquer those lands. Their only desire is for peace, and to spread that peace into savage and untamed realms and regions. If Marius heard our soldiers talk of conquest, that is what they meant."
I think on his words a bit, not wanting to push him or doubt him too much. And how could I ever doubt the Prime? How could I question their great wisdom and foresight, their deep and profound knowledge on our past, and our future, and everything that lies in between.
"I guess that's all it was," I say after a time. "And surely it's our duty to spread the good word beyond our borders. To make safe lands where people live in fear?"
"Precisely. I have been on many missions to that end during my years as a Herald of War. I have seen the wildness of the world, and have helped save the innocent from the tyrannical far beyond our borders. We have been building our strength, Amber, aided so greatly by our Heralds of Awakening. Yet the further we go, and the more we stretch, the more dangerous our own circumstances become."
"No good deed goes unpunished," I murmur.
"Indeed," nods Perses. "And there are no easy decisions when determining the fate of so many. That is something you will discover as you learn to become a good leader."
"I'm starting to see that already," I say. "How do you deal with the responsibility of it all. Like when something goes wrong, and people look to you to make things right? Or they start blaming you for..." I cut myself off, snapping my mouth shut. My eyes dart sheepishly to the side.
"Ah, so someone had some unfavourable words for me, did they?"
"I...no..."
"Hestia," murmurs Perses. I snap my eyes back to him with a glancing look. "Yes, Hestia," he repeats, my foolish expression giving it away. "Don't worry, Amber. She won't get in any trouble for it. What sort of leader would I be if I couldn't take criticism. Especially," he adds, voice clotting, "when it's been earned."
