Chapter 64: Tale 6, Ch 8: Choosing Sides

Aela only hesitated slightly after Darren had stolen her point. “Nothing?”

“For now at least. The push failed. The Torins aren’t ready to negotiate and the Joyans and Ierilans might just be able to get the Torins out of this city. Maybe even cross the Crash Mountains, who knows. Point is, the Prophets have pulled out and we need to join them.”

“That’s what you think the Sept is ordering?”

“That’s what I know is happening.” The siblings walked around the remains of a wall that had collapsed into the middle of the street. Slowly walking over the pile of bricks, they cautioned a little light from their weapons so they didn’t trip over any of the debris. “We’re almost to the square. We know how to get to the river from there. If we’re lucky we might get beyond the city limits by morning.”

They walked toward the square, making as silent an approach as possible. Neither were worried about lensers with conditions as dark as they were. But neither wanted to attract any unwanted attention. Both thought it still possible scouts on either side of the city could have entered the square.

A few minutes later, when they’d reached the square, Darren whistled long and low while looking at the remains of the Hersh building. “I guess I don’t blame Hendar for leaving if he thought I was under there,” Darren said in a whisper as his sister walked up beside him. “Even I can’t believe I survived it.”

Aela crossed her arms and looked up at the gap between the square’s other buildings where the glossy windows of the Hersh department store once shined. “Do you even know what this building looked like?” Aela asked.

“Not really. I was too busy fighting to shop for shoes, Aela. Come on, we’ve got to—”

“It was copper colored. The roof was tinted with copper and even the windows had a light copper finish that you could see through only from the inside.” Aela smiled as she thought of the old building. “I saw it when the siege first started, and even then it was such a fantastic sight. I can only imagine what it looked like before the war.”

Darren kicked at a little chunk of the copper roof. It crunched and rolled away, clattering against the stone walls that had collapsed into the square. “I’m sure it was great. Now unless you think there was a radio in there or something, I suggest we make our way to the river.”

Aela shook her head. “I think I’d rather stay.”

“Yeah right.” Darren laughed, smirking as he tried to see his sister’s facial expression in the dark. He couldn’t tell she stood with a face determined as the day she told her parents she was going to become a Prophet.

Aela didn’t respond, only pulled her shield off her back and let it light a bit so her brother could see her clearly. “Yes. I’m staying,” she said.

“What?” Darren replied, trying to laugh again as his sister’s shield turned dark. “Oh, okay, Aela, I get it. Look, I’m sorry I snapped about the whole sides thing. But you can’t do something irrational just because I was right about this war.”

“You always were good at encouraging talk, Darren.”

“Look, I’m sure this is a nice city worth fighting for and all but it’s not our fight. Every Prophet in this city is gone or dead and why? Because our supposed allies are now fighting us when they should have helped us fight their enemy. I should have seen this coming. Did you know Hendar said we were supposed to have a whole Ierilan division with us yesterday? One hundred Prophets and not a single allied soldier to give us support.”

“I don’t care. I’m staying. You can go if you want, Darren, but I’m not going to leave this city until I know for sure why our allies attacked us. And I’m not quitting till the Torins…”

“The Torins what? Give the state back to the monarchy? Bring democratic rule to their people? Dissolve and give away their power and resources to the Joya Union and Ieral?”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Yes,” Aela said, and crossed her arms.

Darren sighed in annoyance, pulling at his short hair with his gun hand. “Look, it’s like I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said with a slow, deliberate tone. “Other than invading the Joya subcontinent, there is nothing wrong with Torin. What they do works for them, I’ve looked into it. As long as their system doesn’t get corrupted they’ll be fine. And if it ever gets that way then I’ll be right there with you to tear that country down.”

Aela scoffed at the statement.

“But it’s not corrupt,” Darren continued. “Neither are the countries in Joya. But for some reason they’re fighting over their borders and I only care about stopping that. Turns out they don’t want our help. Fine. I’ll go back to Prosper then.” Darren turned and walked away, hoping his sister would follow him as he headed toward the street that led to the river.

“Just doing what the Sept tells you then, Darren?” Aela asked to her brother’s back. “Can’t make your own decision?”

Darren turned around so quickly it made Aela flinch. “Don’t push me, Aela, I’ve had a long day.”

“No. No pushing. I’m just sad to see you haven’t changed. Mom and Dad tell you what to do, you do it. The Sept tells you what to do, you do it.”

“What? I do not…” Darren nearly ran back to his sister, fuming. “You were the golden child, miss Gold Prophet. I was the problem child. I was the one who always got into trouble. While you were the one trying to talk yourself out of things I’d already have broken something else.” Darren pointed to himself, proud of the claim. “The Sept doesn’t have claim over me.”

“Then stop acting like it does.”

“You… I…” Darren bit his lip, trying to come up with a good excuse to leave.

“You can’t find a White here and you’ll have just as little luck finding one outside of Gradennes. Who cares if the Sept abandoned this war? I haven’t. Now if you want to get into some real trouble stay with me and we’ll make sure this war ends.”

Darren crossed his arms and looked away, pursing his lips as he thought. “What good will it do?”

“We’ll keep everyone out of this square. We’ll make sure that both armies know there are Prophets here — there will always be Prophets here — and that we all want this war to end,” Aela explained, looking around at the square. “And I think we just might have the means to pull it off.”

“A minute ago you said you wouldn’t stop till Torin was gone now you want to stop this war?”

“I didn’t say I wanted the war to stop Torin. I said I wanted the Prophets to. And we can’t help people if all they’re doing is killing each other. We’re not soldiers, we’re not politicians. We’re Prophets. Maybe picking a side was wrong but this is our time to fix that.”

“So you agree then, picking a side is wrong.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did.”

“So you’re staying then?” Aela asked, smiling up at her brother.

Aela couldn’t see it, but Darren rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to explain how I left you behind,” he said.

“Thanks. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you almost chickened out.” Aela walked away, heading to the street’s edge so she could begin fortifying the square.

“Hey, hey! I’m not the chicken you’re the chicken you gold can-carrying… chicken!”

With every sunrise since Aela had been in Gradennes, a new burst of gunfire would echo in the new day. She quickly began to equate the pop-popping of bombs as they fell on both sides with the morning as much as she used to the pungent smell of her father’s coffee.

This morning was different. No more pot-shots from lensers. No echoing repercussions from fighter-bombers. The morning sky even lacked the tell-tale smoke clouds of fires lit across the city. Only one thing signaled that a war was actually going on in the city.

“You hear that?” Aela said as she let her enhanced strength give out, all the streets effectively blocked.

“Sounds like tanks,” Darren noted, spitting on his hands and wiping away the thick dust covering his skin.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Spit on your hands like that. It’s disgusting.”

“I don’t exactly have access to a shower, Aela.” Darren spat on his hands again, cleaning the rest of the dirt off his palms. “Do you think they’ll stop when they see what we’ve done?”

“No. But I’m sure your gun can convince them to stay back well enough.”

The Gradennes Central Square used to have four entrances. The northwest street corner had been so blasted out that the tall buildings had collapsed into each other, damming the street in a mountain of debris. In the northeast corner, Darren and Aela had packed together every single leftover vehicle they could find, supplementing the barrier of equipment with the larger pieces of collapsed buildings.

With the south sides, Darren had blasted out several walls in buildings that were already nearly collapsed, caving them in and blocking the streets. This work had taken all night, Darren using the blasting power of his gun to turn debris into barriers and blow holes in the streets beyond, nullifying the danger of tanks entering the square. All the while, Aela used her Prophet-enhanced strength to stack vehicles and debris in all possible directions.

Satisfied with their improvised fortifications, they sat together in the ruins of the fountain, taking a breath before they started the last part of their work.

“They’re getting closer,” Aela said.