by T. C. Edge
The dead are mostly of the Cure. They pile high beyond the parapet, cannon fodder sent forward to test our defences and clear a path. No doubt an Elemental tore the stone apart here, just as the man did over at the southern breach. We got him in the end. I wonder if Colonel Hatcher got his man too.
Inside the wall, however, the dead are mixed. I see Cure soldiers. I see City Guards. I see Nameless, and even a couple of Stalkers, their black robes so easy to spot. We step through them carefully, venturing eastwards as the sounds of battle once more grow distinct. And with the mist fading, the darkness spreading, the glow of orange, of a thousand fires across the city, hover atop buildings and fill the spaces between them.
The soundtrack isn’t as it was when we left the city last night. When we ventured to the outerlands through the underground river, the city was beset by a constant wailing. And the chatter of gunfire, and relentlessness of the explosions, was more regular and endless. Now, it has grown less regular, less loud. It suggests to me that most soldiers are now dead. That the fighting has quelled, reduced to smaller pockets.
And those pockets aren’t nearby.
We hear no gunfire within the surroundings streets. The closest appears to be quite a way away, somewhere nearer the inner districts here in the west. I turn to my brother, his ear for such things better than mine.
“Sounds as though they’re battling at the inner security cordons,” he says. “And dispersed through the streets around them.”
“So…you don’t think they’ve reached Inner Haven yet?” I ask hopefully.
“Hard to tell. I’d say it’s unlikely.”
Buoyed by the news, we press forwards, moving sleekly as a duo, watching each other’s backs for signs of the enemy. We consider looking for a radio station near the western gate, but conclude that the detour isn’t worth it. Instead, we set our sights due east, and cut a path straight there, searching for some sign of a radio as we go whenever we pass any of our downed soldiers.
The battle grows louder with every step we take. Everything seems to be centred closer to the core now, the Cure tightening their grip, surrounding our forces. The additional battalion we saw pass by in the outerlands will have added their considerable weight. It’s possible others were added via the breaches in the south and northeast too.
As we venture towards the middle districts, we begin veering away from the louder songs of war. It’s an alien thing for us both, my brother in particular, to be avoiding conflict like this. At any other time, we’d seek to engage and add our bodies to the fray. Right now, that isn’t top of our agenda.
Instead, the plan is to get to Inner Haven as quickly as we can. I ask whether the underlands will aid us in that goal, and am told that it isn’t an option here.
“We need to stay topside,” says Zander. “The fighting seems to be concentrated around the main streets. We can work through the quieter alleys and have to hope the walls to Inner Haven aren’t under siege. Or worse - already breached.”
We work along the border between the western and northern quarters, avoiding the battle that is clearly raging over towards district 5 here in the west. My old hunting ground appears to be one of the main focal points, the huge central road heading for the western gate well protected and, by the sounds of it, holding firm. As we angle around it, far enough away to remain unseen, it appears that there’s little fighting beyond, given me hope that Inner Haven remains safe for now. Whether that’s the same in the other quarters, we won’t know until we get closer.
The network of alleys here are so well known to me I could venture through them in my sleep. For once, my knowledge of the place rivals Zander’s, and together we form a route that takes us through safe zones until we manage to bypass the main fighting altogether.
Each side street and alley we cross, we stop and search before moving on. Many have already seen some action, bodies of the Cure littering their entrances. With drone guns fixed to walls and often hidden, and other large blockages set with the aim of sealing off roads entirely, we need to be extra careful. Over the last few days, whilst preparing these very defences, we have both managed to get a good idea of where such traps lie. Yet our knowledge isn’t total, and neither of us want to rush down a seemingly empty street to find a series of automatic sentry guns cutting us down.
The bodies of the Cure are often signs of which alleys to avoid. Working through the maze, we manage to make good progress, and only rarely do we encounter little pockets of enemy soldiers, still trying to get through. Eventually, they’ll no doubt join the main battle and give up their flanking attempts. That was the very idea all along for our defence strategists, and it appears to have worked a charm.
Some we avoid, and let pass. Others get close enough to force action. We wait like trapdoor spiders, hidden in the dark, ready to step out and draw these men to our lair. When the odds are in our favour, we expertly dispatch them. When Zander thinks the risk too great, we ignore them and continue on our way.
Bit by bit, we navigate eastwards, always alert, always careful. On a couple of occasions, as we get ever closer to the core, we walk past a trigger and set off a gun. They spring from walls, opening out and unfolding, before immediately peppering us with violent barrages of gunfire. Set off by proximity, some are too well concealed for even us to see. Yet we’re just about wily enough to step behind cover and seek other paths. Unfortunately, the sentry guns are unable to tell friend from foe. Fortunately, we’re quick enough to avoid them.
By the time the first signs of Inner Haven come into view, the light has faded, night pulled in quicker as the clouds above grow thicker. Dark grey turns to black, and soon the rain has begun to fall, the skies bellowing with thunder and flashing with lightning, mimicking the many battles below.
On instinct, I seek cover beneath an awning as the rain starts pouring. I test it with the bare skin of my hand. The toxicity is mild, not enough to cause serious harm. Still, we make sure to cover any bare skin before pressing on, the rain and growing darkness hindering visibility. It slows progress, and heightens threats. Both enemy and sentry guns will be harder to see.
We barely consider, however, that friends will too. Moving down an alley carefully, the end suddenly bursts with a fierce show of yellow light. From behind a barricade, half a dozen guns start spitting, forcing us to hurl our bodies low and into the recess of a side door giving entry to the building to our right.
As the guns shout and rattle, I hear Zander calling out loudly, “We’re Nameless! Hold your fire!”
His voice isn’t enough, concealed by a sudden burst of thunder. I join my voice to his and we try again.
“Hold your fire! We’re Nameless!” we bellow.
They don’t hear us.
The gunfire continues, but it isn’t alone. My ears and eyes pick up the tapping of metal on concrete, and I look left to see a grenade rolling down the street towards us. It veers our way, trickling calmly and ready to blow.
Zander sees it too, and immediately we stand and, together, surge at the door to our right with our joint weight. It takes no discussion, no eye contact, to know what to do. Our minds are so linked that we act as a single entity, only our combined weight and force capable of smashing through the locked, metal door. It takes two hits, not one. The first weakens it. The second bursts through, and just in the nick of time as the grenade explodes and rips into the wall of the building.
We tumble inside the tenement block, cursing.
“God damn it!” roars Zander.
I grab his arm and pull him further into the building.
“Good to know the streets are well protected,” I say.
Outside, the rattling gunfire has abated. Zander pulls his arm away from me and moves back to the door, the frame around it ripped up by the explosion. As he goes, he calls out again.
“We’re Nameless! Stop bloody shooting!”
His voice, quite aggravatingly, is once more cut off by a crack of thunder, so loud and close the lightning must have b
een just outside. It’s enough to set a tremor to the air, and finish the job the grenade started. It may only be coincidence, but at that exact moment, the doorway collapses completely, burying the exit into the alleyway, and forcing Zander to jump backwards to avoid being crushed.
As the dust settles, I search through the darkness down a long corridor.
“Guess we’d better find another way out.”
It’s not quite as easy as it sounds. The building was intact down the alley - at least until our own men decided to play a game of friendly-fire - but elsewhere we discover that it’s already been affected by the previous fighting. Our battle with Cromwell’s men prior to this one saw certain areas suffer tremendously, and clearly this building got caught up in the mess.
The front is caved in, cutting off the exit. The rear has also seen better days. We waste precious minutes searching, before finally coming across another large metal door on the other side, leading into another alley. We take our chance and open it up. Immediately, we’re accosted by gunfire once more.
I can see my brother’s fuse shortening by the second. Breathing heavily, he stands behind the door as bullets clatter into its facade, waits for a slight lull, and then roars, “It’s Zander you bastards! Hold your damn fire!”
This time, the stars align. There’s no thunder to hide his words, no gunfire to interrupt him. A second passes and there’s total silence. Then, a booming voice calls from he ends of the alley.
“Commander Zander…please confirm your identity. Step out into the alley.”
I stop him before he does, gripping his arm tight.
“What if it’s a trap? What if they’re Stalkers or Con-Cops?”
“They’re not. I saw City Guard uniforms,” he says.
“Yeah…and a lot of City Guards are still supporting Cromwell. How can we be sure…”
“Commander Zander,” comes the voice again, cutting me off. “Is anything wrong, sir.”
“Nothing wrong,” calls Zander. “I’d appreciate it if you’d identify yourselves first. Who’s out there?”
There’s a short delay. Then the voice booms again, and something inside it rings a bell in my head.
“Part of the central security cordon down the western road, sir,” says the voice. “We’ve met before. I know your sister.”
The pieces click into place. A smile hauls up the corners of my mouth.
“Titus,” I whisper.
Zander looks at me with a frown.
“Titus? The Brute?”
I nod.
He calls out to the alley again.
“State your name, soldier.”
“It’s Titus, sir. I was ordered by Commander Burns to secure the flanks here. We thought you were Cure soldiers. How many do you have with you?”
Zander lets out a sigh of relief.
“Just two,” he says, looking at me.
“OK. We’ll hold fire. Please, come out. We’ve been holding the line from here. It’s safe on this side.”
Safe on this side. Holding the line.
That means…they haven’t yet broken through. At least, not in this part of the city. And probably not anywhere else. If Inner Haven was breached, all our soldiers would be called back to defend it.
We just might have gotten back in time…
We step out into the rain, and quickly move down the alley towards the barricades at the end. Several figures appear, mostly shapes of normal size, with one rather gigantic figure in their midst. He steps forward, growing visible as we approach, and swerves his eyes from Zander to me.
“Brie!” he says, big eyes opening in shock. “I’m so…so sorry we shot at you.”
My smile widens.
“Not to worry,” I say. “I’m glad to see that you’re safe, Titus. Is your brother OK?”
The light in his face disappears. It takes on the impression of night. His eyes move away, losing contact with mine. He draws a sharp breath, composing himself. I feel a tug at my chest. I know what’s coming.
His head shakes ever so slightly.
“Magnus. He…”
There’s no need for him to voice it. I press forward, gazing up at him. His eyes fall and make contact once more. The giant stands before me, colossal, yet broken. I’ve seen eyes like his before.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper over the falling rain. I reach out and take his hand, wrapping my tiny fingers around his. I can barely grip more than one.
“So am I,” he whispers. “But he died saving others. He died…a hero. It was a good death.”
He smiles at the memory of his brother, so recently departed. A man I barely knew, and yet who helped ease me through the uninviting facade of Inner Haven when I first ventured there. Who stood guard at the gate, always smiling, always positive. A man drawn into a fight he never should have been in, huge and mighty, yet still overcome.
We share that quiet moment together, my fingers around his, thinking of Magnus. Then I pull away from him, and he nods at me. And Zander, standing by, watches solemnly, respecting the moment before pressing forward.
Magnus has fallen, and so have countless others.
Our job, now, is to ensure that we don’t all follow.
8
Setting personal loss and emotion aside, we quickly gather what information we can from Titus. He leads us away from the barricade and under cover from the rain, passing orders to his men to hold the line while he’s gone. It seems he’s in charge of several possible incursion avenues here, including the first alley we ventured down before being forced into the apartment block. Down the street, I notice little units of men set at various points along the main street. By the looks of things, no one from the Cure has yet ventured this far. Or, at least, they’ve haven’t managed to get through.
Stopping in a suitable spot, we learn that he has indeed been holding the line.
“No one’s penetrated the defences here,” he says. “Some units have tried, but our sentry guns mostly force them down these particular streets, and they run straight into our gunfire.”
“Good. And what about elsewhere. Have you been in contact with the other quarters?” asks Zander.
“On and off, yes,” he says. “The main fighting is mostly collected at the major streets in each quarter. We’ve been holding them off since the mist faded and the wailing stopped.”
I share a look with my brother. We don’t tell him of our part in all of that.
“But how come the Cure are trying to attack us where we’re strongest?” I query. “Why not try to sneak through tighter streets like this?”
“Several reasons that I can think of,” says Titus. He seems slightly frayed, as if he needs to keep talking to hold back thoughts of his brother. “Firstly, well…they’ve been trying to test us around the narrow lanes and alleys, but they’re so tight that it’s mostly too dangerous for them. We’ve killed several dozen here without losing a single man. Unless they flood these passages and are willing to lose lots of men, they’re not the best areas to attack. And I don’t think they have the numbers to be throwing soldiers away anymore.”
“My thinking exactly,” says Zander. “And, we have to remember that they’re here to kill our people, not just to try to take possession of the city. Flanking us would be a good way to close in, but if they can’t do that, then they’ll merely flock to where we’re gathered and try to take us out in large batches. I think their inexperience of sieging such a large city is beginning to show. Without their tricks - the smoke and the sound - they’re not quite so formidable.”
“No, they’re not,” says Titus. “As I say, we’ve been holding them off here and it’s the same elsewhere as far as I’ve heard. Our radio’s been playing up a bit, so contact has been limited recently.” He looks to Zander, then me. “Do neither of you have a communicator? And…what were you doing out there in the outer districts?”
“Long story,” says Zander. “We had a mission that took us beyond the city. My radio got damaged and so we haven’t had con
tact for hours. We need to get to Inner Haven immediately. Can I assume there’s been no breach?”
“No. Like I’ve told you, the fighting’s been in the middle districts of Outer Haven. They haven’t managed to get any closer, other than the odd pocket. But they’re hunted down as soon as they’re spotted. The odd little unit can’t do much to disable us behind our lines.”
“So, that’s good. That’s real good,” I say, looking at Zander.
He nods, though remains stoic in his expression.
“And, the Stalkers and Con-Cops,” he says, looking again at Titus’ enormous head. “They’re still fighting alongside us?”
Titus frowns.
“Erm, yes. In fact, I have a number of Con-Cops in my unit. They’re protecting an alley down the street. Why do you ask?”
“Because…” I start, before Zander cuts me off.
“We’re not sure, yet,” he says. “We may have a problem with them. I’d suggest you keep a close eye.”
“Zander, you’re going to have to explain this to me. They’ve been fighting alongside us for days. What are you suggesting?”
“Again, we can’t be sure…” he begins.
This time, it’s me who cuts him off.
“We’re suggesting that Cromwell’s got a secret plan to take back Inner Haven,” I say. “We think he has a secret force of Stalkers at the REEF, and he’s going to use them to finish us off and retake control of Haven once we’ve defeated the Cure.”
Titus’ eyes widen a little as he listens. Then he begins to nod.
“That doesn’t sound too unreasonable,” he says. “I’ve heard of secret Stalkers and super-hybrid soldiers at the REEF. What exactly were you doing there?”
“We tracked Cromwell there,” I say.
“So, he left the city? That sounds very dangerous. I thought he was heading to the protection of Inner Haven?”
“He didn’t go there willingly,” I say. “We were chased to the outerlands and then had to…”
“Like I say,” cuts in Zander, flashing an impatient glare at me. “It’s a long story, and we don’t have time for it now. Suffice to say, yes, we think Cromwell’s going to set his loyal men against us once the Cure are no longer a threat. I urge you to keep an eye on any Con-Cop under your charge, and any Stalker you see. Even City Guards loyal to Cromwell need to be closely watched.”
