by T. C. Edge
That, I guess, is my duty, I tell myself sarcastically.
I speak briefly of the visions I've had, mainly of small settlements and towns being attacked by Eden soldiers. He doesn't seem interested. Such attacks are commonplace and well known now, highlighted by the steady stream of refugees flooding into the city. When I tell him I've seen nothing more, he appears somewhat disappointed.
“Nothing at all? No attack on this city?”
I would have thought not seeing a vision of his city being attacked would be a good thing.
“No, sir. This city seems impenetrable.”
“That was the intention when it was built,” he says. “But Augustus is as cunning as they come. If anyone can find a way to break us, he will.”
“You have a lot of respect for him, don't you?” I ask.
He glares at me, and coughs.
“I wouldn't call it respect, no,” he growls. “I just understand what an adversary he can be. And how ruthless.”
He disappears into his own thoughts again, and I see his mouth move silently, mumbling gently to himself. Years out here, years of seeking revenge, may just have had an impact on his mind.
I don't tell him of my vision of Ellie, Theo, and Jackson dying. I don't see the point. That is personal to me, not something to be shared. Ellie drew the truth from me at a low moment, but right here, right now, I'm not going to spill to a stranger, no matter who he is.
In any case, until further details emerge, there really is nothing to say.
I find the conversation strained and uncomfortable. The way it mimics my first meeting with Knight is certainly not lost on me, and within the face of the Master, I see some similarities with the man. There's a lingering arrogance on his face, a depth in his eyes, a slight twist to his smile that doesn't appear natural to me.
It makes sense, I suppose, if he was once right there alongside Knight on Eden, directing the course of the world. I wonder how much input he had, whether he was instrumental in implementing the Duty Call and the Pairing. What part he played in shaping the inequality of the world.
I wonder what happened between the men to see him banished. Whether he lost faith in it all and was discarded as a result? I hope that is the case, that his conscience grew too heavy and he voiced his concerns. But in his eyes, I see that same lust that I saw in Knight's; a lust for control, a lust for power.
When our meeting ends, he gingerly stands and walks me to the door. Once again, he moves in close, inspects me. So close I can smell his scent, stale and ancient.
“Remember, Cyra, if you see anything in your dreams, come to me immediately,” he says, echoing the words of Augustus Knight. “And remember, we are at war, and you are now a soldier. I have plans for you and your friends. Don't get comfortable here.”
And with that, he opens the door and I slide out into the corridor, feeling just a little more dirty than I did when I entered.
11 - Fresh Recruits
“I don't like this, Ellie.”
I'm sitting back in my room, Ellie propped up on her arm in bed. She looks sleepy, and more relaxed than she has in a while.
“Honey, what's the problem,” she asks, yawning. “I thought you wanted this.”
Over the last half an hour, I've told her about my impromptu meeting with the Master. One that left me with a decidedly unpleasant taste in my mouth.
“It just felt so much like meeting Knight.”
“Yeah, and naturally that's conjured some bad feelings. But Cyra, we're on the right side now. However creepy you found this guy, it doesn't matter. We're going to go and take down Knight and save everyone. Doesn't that make you feel good. Doesn't that excite you?”
Ellie, despite what she's been through, still has an innocent and less sceptical way of looking at the world. My personal view, over the months and years, has been to not trust anyone. At least, not until I know them deeply. And right now, I don't trust the Master.
“Well, what if this guy's no better than Knight? What if he just wants to take power for himself. There's no point in replacing one tyrant with another.”
“You're being overly cautious. Ask yourself this – what alternative do you have, do we have?”
Her question is a good one. It stumps me. Really, there is no other option but to comply with whatever the Master says. We are visitors here and have been taken in. As part of this cause, we need to commit.
“Fine, but I'm going to keep on eye on him. My priority is to keep you and Theo and Jackson safe. Where you go, I go.”
She slips out of bed and comes over to give me a hug.
“That's sweet, Cy. But we all think the same. We all want to protect each other.”
The day passes by without further incident. Time passes by slowly as my thoughts drift back to Jackson, trekking through the wilderness, day after day. When Drake finds us later that afternoon, I put it to him that they send out more vehicles to gather up some of the refugees.
“They have no capacity to take them all, Cyra, so they won't go and get any. Resources are precious here, they can't waste fuel. They have plenty of food and water now. They'll be fine, don't worry. We'll see them in two or three weeks.”
His words give me some solace, as always, and placate my negative thoughts for a while. They will, I know, keep on coming back unless I keep busy. The problem here, is that there really is very little we can do.
Ellie and Theo feel very much the same, and together we go to Drake to ask him if there's any way we can contribute. He tells us he'll have a think and will get back to us. Later that day, our second in the city, Lieutenant Murphy approaches with that familiar beaming smile.
“We've had an idea,” he says. “You were all well trained on Eden with weapons and fighting techniques, yes?”
We look to each other and give a communal shrug. Theo is the first to speak.
“Fighting styles not so much. For any of us who could see into the Void, you didn't need to be a good fighter as you could see the punches coming. We learned some stuff, but not much. But weapons, yeah, we learned how to shoot all sorts, how to aim, hit moving targets on the run, that sort of stuff. Anyway, why do you ask?”
“Well, we don't have many soldiers here, but we have lots of stocks of weapons. They're mainly old weapons, pretty much antiques, so maybe you don't have experience with them. However, there are lots of willing men and women here to be trained. Perhaps you could help?”
“You want us to train new soldiers?” I ask.
“Sure, you're more experienced than the majority of people here. These people are already starting to look up to you. If nothing else, you inspire them.”
We all look at each other once more, and this time we nod in unison.
“We'd be happy to help,” says Theo.
The following few days are interesting. First of all, we're fitted out with soldiers' outfits to make us look a little more professional. Then we're sent off to the armoury deep in the mountain to check the weapons stocks and decide which ones we have experience with.
Some we do, many we don't, but the general configuration of the guns are more or less the same. We spend some time re-honing our own skills before being presented with a troop of men and women who have no military experience, but a willingness to join the fight.
The age range is what strikes me the most. There are men of 50 who have worked as farmers all their lives. There are young girls of 16 who, like us, have only just entered into adulthood.
Their backgrounds vary as much as their ages. Some, mainly the older ones, were once living in the regions, but were banished for minor indiscretions. Others were born in the Deadlands and have never known anything else. Wherever they've come from, however, and whatever their age, they all share a communal spirit to help. It's a spirit that I feel ringing out through the city, an excitement for what's to come.
We are ordered to offer simple training. How to hold a gun right. How to aim. How to fire. The ammunition stocks are deep, but we're told to not use up to
o much. So we devise ways to be as frugal as possible, offering as much teaching as we can before getting each recruit to fire. Few shots are wasted, and we quickly make progress with the group.
After a couple of days, many have discovered a natural propensity for sniping. Others are more wayward but have potential. Others still remain nervous and don't appear to have what it takes. They are discarded and sent to work elsewhere, thought to only be potential hindrances if sent to war.
Everything is packed in tight, the training short and intense. Those who distinguish themselves in any particular skill are sent for advanced training. Those who are merely capable are put on standby within the new reserve army being constructed.
With their brief training over, a new batch is sent to us. We go through the same process, and our days began to fall into a pattern. Each night I fall asleep more soundly, and have fewer dreams of pain and suffering, waking with a spring in my step and a focus that sharpens my mind.
Each day, deep in the mountain, we don't see the growing flood of refugees seeking sanctuary in the city. Only when we return do we notice a slight swell in the ranks, notice the central chamber filling.
Word begins to spread that the city might have to shut its gates. That it is beginning to reach breaking point, the stocks of food unable to cater to so many. Drake reassures me each time that Jackson and the thousands he leads will be allowed entry to the city regardless. That the city will never close its gates and lock off those in need.
Parties are sent out to scour nearby settlements and gather further stocks of food. Each day cars and trucks return with a fresh bounty. And each day, their loads get lighter.
Lieutenant Murphy continues to liaise with us, checking our progress. He offers snippets of inside information, saying that war councils are being held daily, that a plan is forming. We're kept in the dark, mainly, as is Lieutenant Murphy, but the signs are that the pieces are moving, and soon a strike will be made.
In our spare time, Ellie, Theo and I speculate on what the Master will do, what course of action he'll choose to take. With what we've seen, on both sides of the wall, none of us come to the conclusion that we can match Eden in strength of arms. In any case, the idea of pitching the troops here against those of Eden makes me feel queasy to my core.
“They're all innocent,” I say one evening as we sit around a fire in the main chamber. Around us, similar debates rage regarding the war.
“The soldiers here are innocent. The soldiers on the mainland are innocent. Hell, even the Eden soldiers are innocent. Think about it, if Jackson hadn't been captured, he'd be an Officer right now, leading troops into the Deadlands to hunt down settlements, even hunt us down. Does that make him guilty? He'd just be following orders.”
“We get that, Cy,” says Ellie, sharing a look with Theo, “but this is war, right? It's just a matter of point of view, of ideology. Both sides think they're right. You know how it is, growing up in the regions. We all thought the rebels were the bad guys; the guys who dropped the nuke and created the Graveyard, who killed people for food and weapons. They even told stories of cannibalism. So that's probably what people still believe.”
“Over on Eden,” adds Theo, “we were taught the same thing. There will be no doubt in anyone's mind there that we're the bad guys. They will all be right behind Knight in wiping out the rebels.”
I shake my head, frustrated.
“So, innocent people are going to kill innocent people because of the lies of one man? I don't know if I can go out and kill soldiers who I know are good people. Some of them might be from Arbor, from my home town. They're good kids. They don't deserve to die.”
“Well, what choice is there?” asks Ellie. “I know boys who were sent to train at the wall as well. But you can trust that they'll be shooting to kill, Cyra. They'll hate us.”
“It's just so unfair,” I say, exasperated. “We've been on both sides of this. We know the truth. There's got to be some way we can spread the word out there, make people doubt it.”
“No chance,” says Theo. “You have to accept the situation as it is, and accept there will be casualties. That's what happens in war. Innocent people die. The world grieves, but it moves on. You have to take a tougher stance, Cyra.”
I fall silent. So do the others. Around our fire, we all aim our looks away from each other. The chatter of the great chamber fills my ears again, flowing with an endless cacophony of debate.
“Anyway, it won't be like that,” Theo says finally. “We don't have the strength here to fight Eden. They have greater numbers and better weaponry. An open battle would be a massacre, just like it was before.”
“So what then?” I ask. “What will the Master do?”
We return to the question, one which has inspired so much speculation but no real answers. And still, none of us come up with any solution.
The only thing we agree on is that Knight needs to be destroyed. Ellie adds in that the entire council need to go too, tactlessly forgetting that Theo's parents are among them. A see a grimace flow through his face, but he doesn't correct her. Perhaps, after how he was treated, he agrees.
More days pass, and more fresh soldiers are trained. They come to us with rough edges, and we work to iron them out. And each day that passes, I search for word of Jackson, trekking through the desert, wondering how far he's come, how far he has to go.
Has he begun to climb the mountains yet? Are they all walking the mountain path, away from the plains below? With two weeks having passed since we left them, I grow more anxious by the day, desperate to see him march into the city at the head of the thousands that follow.
Right now, though, there's nothing I can do but wait. Train soldiers, debate the future, and prepare for what's to come.
Two weeks since my meeting with the Master, I'm summoned to him again. Once again, I speak with him alone. And once again, I feel an echo of my time on Eden, my time with Knight. He asks me if I've seen anything new, if I've had any more visions. Again, I have to disappoint him.
He seems weary to me, more weary than he was before. He slumps a little in his chair, eyes drooping on occasion. I ask him if he's OK, and he merely responds with an irritated wave of the hand.
“Just tired,” he says. “And old.”
He straightens up his posture, then fixes me with those deep eyes.
“Tell me, Cyra, what would you do if you were in my position? How would you approach this war?”
The question catches me completely off guard.
“I...well, I'm just a 16 year old girl, sir. I have no idea.”
“But you're not just a 16 year old girl, are you? You have power, you're wiser than your years. I'd like your opinion.”
I take a deep breath.
“Well, I debate this a lot with my friends, actually. It doesn't seem like you have the strength to fight Eden head on.”
He begins shaking his head.
“No, we don't. The armoury is well stocked, but with old, inaccurate weapons. We have some military vehicles, tanks and artillery, but they'd be considered obsolete by Eden, relics of a bygone era. We have no hope to win through direct force.”
“That's what we thought.”
“And the rest of the people? Do you speak to them?”
“I hear debates going on. It's all they seem to talk about.”
“And the general feeling?”
“The same, sir. People are scared, but they have hope. I suppose this fortress offers them that.”
“No,” he says firmly. “This fortress will become nothing but a tomb unless we act. We have to strike at the heart of the enemy. It is the only option we have.”
“Eden? You mean to attack Eden?”
He doesn't answer, but merely repeats his previous question.
“What would you do, Cyra?”
“I...I'd kill Knight. Cut off the head of the snake, and the rest will take care of itself.”
“Ah, wise words.”
“The people aren't loyal to Kn
ight,” I continue, building pace. “Most of the soldiers are from the regions. If they realise what Knight really is, we'll find they have no allegiance.”
“And this is how the mainlanders feel?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. Well, certainly where I'm from. And, by the sounds of it, in Lignum too, where Ellie comes from, and Fossor, where our friend Link was from. People hate Eden.”
He smiles.
“Yes, people hate Eden, but they hate the rebels more. It's amazing what the power of propaganda and lies can do. Augustus is a master manipulator.”
“Then he has to die.”
“Oh, he will, Cyra, he will,” he mutters.
With those words hanging in the air, I'm dismissed. I walk out, down long passages back to the main chamber, and once more feel a growing unease inside me.
12 - Athena
“Hey Cyra, come here, quick!”
I'm at one side of our training room, which is more of a large open cave somewhere below the main chamber. Standing patiently in front of me are a dozen new recruits, all of them listening intently and watching as I show them how to load an automatic rifle.
Theo's voice, however, breaks me from my lesson. I turn to see him waving me over to him from across the room.
“Excuse me for one moment,” I say to my class, before jogging casually over to Theo.
“What's going on?” I ask him.
Theo stands with another group, spread out in pairs. They're being taught some basic fundamentals of hand to hand combat, as we were in the Grid. Only this is a proper crash course, a few simple lessons on what to do should you find yourself up close and personal with an opponent.
“Take a look at this,” Theo says.
He turns to a couple of girls, evenly matched in height and weight. One looks a little older than the other, but both appear in their late teens.
“OK, Trish, try to hit her again.”
The older girl looks a little sheepish and unsure. The other one stands confidently, eyes focused.
“It's OK, Trish,” she says, “you know you won't hit me.”
