by T. C. Edge
With a slightly cowed look to her face, Amber begins to nod. "I agree with him, President Orlando," she says, glancing to Perses. "It's a long way from here, and...well, a long way from anywhere. It would take a force of thousands, I think, to storm the city itself. But...even then, getting through the walls, and the gates, might not be possible, depending on what sort of weapons you might use for it." She looks around the room once more, glancing across us nervously. "Maybe there's a better way?" she suggests. "You only need to eliminate the Prime. It's not like what happened here. This is about them, only, and anyone like Kovas too far gone to escape their controls. And," she says, her voice growing a little darker around the edges, a devilish expression creeping upon her face, "I think most of us would like to kill him anyway..."
The room reacts with a few huffs of laughter, everyone in firm agreement on that point.
"What I'm saying," the young Fire-Elemental goes on, growing in stature and confidence, "is that perhaps there's a way the Prime can be taken out without, you know, entering into a full blown assault like what happened here. It would only cost lives on both sides. There are only really two that need to be taken."
"All options will certainly need to be considered," President Orlando agrees. "It is why you are both here. Your insights and inner knowledge may prove invaluable to us. And you, Perses, in particular, given your experience at the highest end of Olympian society for so many years. The enemy, as far as we know, still believe that you are dead. That is another advantage we must use."
I feel a growing frustration building inside me, a more urgent matter that needs to be resolved. I lean in again and look right at President Orlando. "And Brie?" I ask. "Your granddaughter is out there now, President Orlando. From what we hear, she might be locked away in Olympus within a week. How exactly will we get to her then?" I shake my head, and draw in my voice. "We need to send out an advance team," I say. "We can take some of the best we have right now and begin to follow. We'll catch up quickly enough if we use the resources at our disposal, and follow the tracks they've made. If and when the Neoroman reinforcements arrive, they can follow on behind, joined by the rest of our troops once they're fully prepared. We'll get Brie back, and prepare for your arrival. That's what I'd do. And I'd do it right now."
I continue to stare at the President alone, until she begins to nod, and turns her eyes around the room. "Kira has set out a possible path," she says. "Is it one we could follow?" She looks to Dom. "Emperor Domitian. What do you think?"
Dom, perhaps grateful to be handed the floor again, stands as he speaks. He's so used to doing so in the curia when debating with Lucius and the other senators, that it comes extremely natural to him. "We all know how important Brie is to most of the people in this room," he says. "She is a wife, a granddaughter, and a dear friend. Yet this goes beyond mere personal ties. I believe what Kira is saying is true. We must try to get Brie back before she reaches Olympus. I have seen, first hand, how my mother assumed control of the Neoroman hierarchy, how her madness began to seep into the city itself. If we lose Brie to the Prime, she may become even more powerful than Vesper was. That is a very real threat to us all." He begins to nod, and looks down at me with a smile. "Yes, I believe Kira is right. An advance force must be sent to try to save her."
As he retakes his seat, still smiling at me as he does, Secretary Burns stands and offers a similar sentiment.
"I, too, find myself in agreement with what has been said," he begins. "I think it's impossible to deny Brie's worth and great contribution to this city. She is widely loved and admired, not least by those in this room. That, alone, might be enough to try to rescue her. But, as Emperor Domitian says, it is so much more than that now. We must send out a party immediately," he says. "If nothing else, the elimination of the Prime can wait. This cannot."
The President looks to Perses. "Perses, you understand the dynamics of your travelling army. How likely might a rescue be?"
Like the others, he chooses to stand as he delivers his words, filling the space across the table as he launches to a considerable height. "I don't," he says commandingly, "know the full nature of your own capabilities, but it certainly sounds possible, if not difficult. They will not erect their energy shields when stopping to make camp as was the case here. They may be moving, in fact, with such haste as to merely sleep within the carriages, and may not make camp at all, allowing the soldiers to rest while they travel. These different circumstances present different problems, and opportunities. Knowing where Brie is being kept, and how carefully she is being guarded, will not be easy. To rescue her at night would be easier than during the day, or when the convoy is in transit. There are many factors to consider. But yes, I believe it is possible."
"Then you are to go as well," President Orlando says swiftly. "Your advice might prove critical. As is your knowledge of the lands to the north, and the route back to Olympus."
Perses bows his head. "I would be happy to help," he says. "However, know that I will not participate in the killing of my own people, if it comes to that."
"I wouldn't expect that of you," says the President. "Our trust in you is growing, Perses, but you will remain under watch for the time being, with your powers suppressed. I hope you understand."
"I do," he says. "I would do the same myself."
"Good." She turns her attention to Amber. "You would wish to travel as well, Amber?" she asks.
The young girl nods. It isn't too surprising that she'd want to be given a free ride home...
"I'd...like that," she says softly. "If we were to reach the Fringe, I'd like to see that my family are OK. We could begin preparations in securing their safety, while we wait for the main army to arrive."
"Yes," says the President. "Ideally, we'd kill two birds with one stone: retrieve Brie, and eliminate the Prime in quick succession. But we can do nothing until we have confirmation from Neorome."
"We'll get it," says Dom, leaving no space for doubt now. "I will stay behind and greet them when they arrive. We will then follow on to war."
"But," comes Hendricks's voice, a little more cautious, "we're hearing that a siege might not be possible?" He looks skeptically towards the two Olympians beside him. "What is the use in sending a large army if they're only to sit and do nothing."
"Because we will need them one way or another," says Ares, offering a more positive outlook and counter to Hendricks's distrust. "This Olympian threat is always going to hang over us if we don't act now. We have our methods of bombardment and besieging cities in Neorome. We are very experienced in all forms of military strategy." He looks to Dom. "We should request that they bring tools and weapons for this purpose," he says. "One way or another, we will find a way to victory. It is in our blood. We always do."
Dom nods, as the room falls quiet for a few moments. I feel a humming excitement beginning to build as the meeting starts drawing to a swift conclusion.
"Time is of the essence," the President says, her words further bolstering my intent and urgency. "If Brie is to be retrieved, then we cannot wait. We will send a large enough advance force so that we can at least stand our ground until the reinforcements arrive. There will be no way for you to communicate with us while you're gone, except via the use of runners. If you are in agreement, Emperor Domitian, then I would suggest that the majority of your Imperial Guards set off with the advance force."
"I was of the same mind, President Orlando," says Dom.
"And Hatcher's Stalkers?" asks Hendricks. "We know how useful they are."
"They can go too," says the President. "They will help guard the troop if attacked. I would suggest, Commander Hendricks, that you take over their leadership while Colonel Hatcher is out of commission."
"I will assimilate them into the City Guards we bring with us," says Hendricks. "With some of the Nameless troops, and along with the Stalkers and Neoromans, we might be able to assemble five hundred or so immediately..."
"Isn't that too many?" I ask, not exactly agreeing
with the scale of this operation. "We need to approach as quietly as we can. And we need to travel fast. If we don't achieve both of those we will lose our chance to get Brie back."
"We have no choice," says Burns, drawing my eye. "When the time comes, the advance force can split into two components; a larger one to prepare for when the main reinforcements arrive, and another smaller unit to perform the insurgency role and rescue Brie."
I consider it briefly and nod. "Fine," I say. "But if it comes down to it, and we need to speed up, I'll be heading right in with anyone who can keep up."
"Well, I won't be one of those," says Burns, with a simmering smile, "but I would certainly like to accompany you all northwards. If the Emperor is going to stay here and ensure that the Neoroman reinforcements arrive in good order, we will need at least one functioning telepath going ahead."
"If that is your desire, Leyton," says the President. "I'd like to convince you otherwise, but I know you won't bend." She turns to Rycard, so far silent. "I'd prefer it, then, if you'd stay behind, Rycard," she says. "You'll be needed to help assemble and organise our own troops, should we need to send them out. And run the city's military forces that remain to protect us here."
Rycard nods quietly. He was a capable soldier not long ago, and still is, but is too burdened with injuries now to be effective in a full blown fight of this sort. He'll do better here, seeing to the city's safety in our absence. "If that is your wish, President Orlando," he says.
"Good," she smiles. "Then it seems we are decided." She swivels her old gaze around the room. "There is little time. Every hour lost will hasten Brie's path to Olympus. There is plenty of light remaining in the day. I'd like you to get a good head start before night falls."
I stand at those words, leading the others to do the same. The enemy have a good few hours on us, I know, but it won't last long if we're quick. At least, I hope it won't.
As a few of the others stay behind, I swiftly depart with Dom, Max, and Ares, ready to collect our Neoroman contingent and get them ready for the march. As I stride by Dom's side, my mind turns briefly to Adryan, still wondering if Dom had a chance to speak with him.
"Adryan was silent through the meeting," I say, "but looked a little more positive. Did you talk to him about Brie?"
"We...touched on the subject," Dom says. "Honestly, I've been busy negotiating with Neorome. I'll have plenty more opportunity over the next week, don't worry."
"Dom," I say firmly. "Make sure you do. When I get Brie back here, I want Adryan to be the man she needs, OK? You can help with that."
"A happily ever after," he grins. "You have become awfully soppy these last few months."
I slap him on the arm. "I just want my friends to be happy," I say. "Nothing wrong with that."
"Nothing at all. But, rumour has it, Brie's been getting very friendly with Captain Marcus." He frowns. "I don't suppose you found out anything else about him, did you?"
The conversation turns sour. "Nothing," I say. "But if he wasn't among the dead, then perhaps he's been captured like Brie. If they've been getting along as well as you say, then he might have tried to save her."
"He is a heroic one," Dom nods. "Heroic, but foolhardy. It sounds like something he'd do."
"Then perhaps this will turn into a joint breakout. It...may complicate things," I say.
"Don't concern yourself with it until you have confirmation, Kira," Dom says. Ahead the world grows busy as we enter into the comms centre. "Just focus on one thing at a time, OK? And don't do anything stupid yourself. I'm counting on Ares and Maximus to make sure of that. Your position won't give you power over either of them, Ares in particular. If and when there's a mission to breakout Brie, or even Marcus, then Ares will lead. Understand?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I say. "Like I'd try to lead ahead of Ares."
"I know you, Kira," Dom says sternly. "Your friendship with Brie will force you to take action. Just make sure it isn't rash."
"I promise," I say. "Don't worry so much. You'll turn into Adryan. Who knows, maybe it'll be him who has to speak with you next time."
He lifts his eyes. "Just, be safe, OK. I know you always are, but I also have to say it."
"I know," I say, pulling him into a kiss. "I know you do."
An hour later, after a hectic rush, I smile at Dom, and kiss him again, for the final time in a while. And entering into the convoy of over fifty vehicles, with five hundred of the finest warriors we can muster, we set off in pursuit of an army many times our size.
Off on the long journey north.
17
Brie
"Is this damn rattling ever going to end!"
Marcus isn't usually one, I've learned, to get annoyed by much, yet the current rattling of the chains in the carriage have clearly begun to bear him down. He sits, bunched against the chains in the wall of his cell, able at least to stop them from moving as the carriage rumbles along. The others cells, however, he cannot access. And in each, those chains continue to jingle with a seemingly never-ending energy.
"Just block it out," I say, sitting at the back wall of my own cell, helping at least to stop some of the constant clanking by pressing my back against the chains and shackles there. "Ignore it, Marc."
"Ignore it? Ignore that!" he points towards the other cells, as the carriage rolls onto a particularly bumpy track. The chains respond by rattling even more loudly than normal.
I have to admit, it is extremely annoying. But, with Marcus being annoyed enough for the both of us, I find no reason to add my own frustrated voice to the mix.
The trouble is, it never really ends. We've been a couple of days on the road now and haven't stopped once, at least not for more than a few minutes at a time to allow the soldiers to relieve themselves in the woods. During those stops, Marc and I are given the same liberty, guarded by Bull and Dozer as we're escorted to the woods, or whatever privacy we can find, to release whatever bodily fluids we need to. It is often during those times, too, that we're fed our drugs.
Those breaks, however, are the only ones we get. We don't stop for the night. We don't halt the convoy to make camp. It seems that Kovas and the Overseer, or whoever the hell is in charge, is keen to get back to Olympus as soon as humanly possible. And that means travelling quickly too, which doesn't much help with the volume of the rattling chains either.
"It's torture," Marcus barks. "That's what it is. They're trying to break us before we get to Olympus. And I'll tell you what...it's working!"
"Oh, man up Marc, for goodness sake," I shout. Yes, to combat that rattling, I really have to raise my voice. "It's bad enough for me having to listen to this racket without you moaning on as well!"
I have, it seems, reached my breaking point too. I think it's clear that both of us are feeling the stress of our captivity now.
My words do have an impact on him, though, by the contrite look on his face. "Sorry," he says. "You're right. I should be more positive."
"Thanks, Marc," I say. "I know this is a pretty raw deal, but we just gotta get on with it, OK. We have to deal with it together."
"I know. It's just..." He grits his teeth as we hit a bump, the chains all clinking and clanking together, as though intent on driving the knife in deep. He draws a breath and raises a smile, as if to combat his growing anger. "It's fine. It's all fine..."
The other problem, of course, is the total discomfort we're in. No, we're not chained up, but the floor is hard, filthy, and littered with little splinters and jutting bits of wood. Trying to sleep has been a nightmare, with the carriage constantly rumbling along at such speed, and the chains never relenting in their torturous cacophony. I must have snatched an hour or two at most. By the redness around Marc's eyes, and his current disgruntled mood, he's had even less.
And, in some small way, the idea of reaching Olympus has grown more appealing to me. By this point, with the speed at which we've been travelling, I've come to accept that a daring rescue by our own people isn't going to ha
ppen. If we continue at this pace, we'll be at the gates of Olympus in four or five days from what we've been told, getting snippets of information from Dozer, in particular, during the short breaks. Frankly, the idea of being treated to some comfort on arrival, something the Overseer has assured me will happen, is growing rather appealing.
And that, perhaps, is part of his plan. To make the journey so utterly horrendous that we're grateful for the comfort when it comes. The idea of a proper bed in a room that doesn't stink or endlessly rattle is becoming wholly attractive to me. And we're only two days in...
I sit back, aching all over - not least in the head - as the sun streams in through the small windows at the tops of the cells. On a couple of occasions, Marc has managed to clamber up there to take a look outside, wondering just where we might be. It's too high for me to jump and cling onto without my gifts, but Marcus can just about manage it. Each time, he's dropped to the floor with a report of woods, plains, hills, and highways. Little of interest, really.
Eventually, after what seems like an age without a break, the clanging of the chains begins to calm, and the wheels of the wagon begin to slow. We've grown used to these stops, happening every eight hours or so, no matter the time of day or night. Given we need to be fed drugs more regularly than that, we've found that Bull also visits us between those stops as well, climbing through the door of the carriage while it's in transit. I can only assume that he's a gifted Dasher, owing to the speed at which we're travelling; to be able to keep up with the moving convoy, and transfer from one vehicle to another, can't be too easy for a man of his size.
"We're slowing," Marc says, standing to his feet as we do so. "Finally," he adds, glaring at the chains as they begin to relent. "I'm going to talk with Dozer," he says. "Maybe he can help."
I raise my eyes. It'll be a good test to see whether Marcus's plans to befriend Dozer - he's picked up on the nicknames I've given the two men - will actually yield a positive result. Every time Dozer has come along to check on us, Marc has swiftly brushed off his temper and painted a smile to his face, interacting with Dozer in his usual, carefree, way. If Bull comes too, he doesn't try so hard. Frankly, we've realised that Bull is the 'bad cop' in the partnership, too surly to warm to Marc's charms.
