Tempest’s Fury

“Cyntaf’s right,” Magog said, her raspy voice unfazed. “They’ll believe the labrys. And we need something to believe in,” she added, reachingouta small hand and placing it on Gog’s thigh as he drove.



For his part, Gog looked at me in the rearview and gave me a wink and a tooth-deprived smile.



I wanted to argue more, or at least ask exactly what part I should play. When Anyan had called me a hero after battling Graeme, that had felt good. But kicking the ass of one’s nemesis was a lot different from being asked to persuade other people to fight. Unfortunately, before I could air my concerns, we were already at our destination: a terraced house in Hove, next to Brighton.



Following the others, we made our way down the steps into a basement apartment that reeked of cat piss and probably hadn’t seen a paintbrush since it was built. We walked through a low door and then into a small foyer that had crumbling tile and no furniture. Blondie led us further into the house, down a narrow hallway that led into a large, if disheveled and filthy, kitchen.



Sitting around on chairs, on countertops, and even on the dirty floor, were about twenty beings. They were a mix of identifiable, probably purebred creatures loyal to the rebel cause and other beings that might have been halflings or purebloods. Everyone had the same expressions on their faces, however: boredom that turned to curiosity mixed with a tangible element of fear as we entered.



I hung back, uncomfortable with my role in this room. I didn’t even know what we were doing, and I was supposed to be leading these people? Luckily, Blondie was more than happy to do the talking.



She walked around, first, like a politician, greeting individuals and shaking their hands, or offering them a hug. Only after she’d said hello to everyone did she come back towards me. Blondie didn’t yet single me out, however; instead she started talking.



“My friends, my comrades,” she began. “Thank you for coming this evening and for volunteering to help.”



A few people looked at each other, as if they were still on the fence about the volunteering part.



“We are facing an enormous challenge, and one that many of us thought would never happen again. The Red and the White are rising.”



Everyone shifted around at that admission, and the level of tension in the room rose palpably.



“Many of you are probably wondering what that actually means. Very few in this room were alive the last time the Red and the White appeared, and they have not been our enemies for entire generations. Instead, other enemies have arisen and it is to combat those enemies that you took your places as soldiers.



“In fact, many of you are probably wondering whether the Red and the White have anything to do with you. Why you should care. Why you should waste your resources fighting something that’s not necessarily Alfar.”



Most of the faces, by this point, were watching Blondie with rapt attention. She really knew how to work a small room like this, and her charisma was undeniable. But only a few nodded at her words. I realized that the rebels, while Blondie’s natural allies, weren’t necessarily our natural allies in this fight. After all, the Red and the White weren’t the enemies that the rebels had been fighting for so long.



So while it made sense for Blondie to go to the soldiers she knew for help, we were going to have to work to convince them that this really was their fight.



“Make no mistake,” Blondie said, “The Red and the White must be fought. And while they are not being awoken by the Alfar that rule this land, they are being raised by Alfar who have proven themselves, time and again, to be the enemies of halflings and those they believe to be lesser factions. The two Alfar seeking to raise the Red and the White were responsible for heinous crimes against our halfling brethren, and now they seek even more power. Power that, if achieved, would make them nigh on unstoppable.



“So I would ask you to expand your definition of ‘the enemy.’ The Alfar who rule this Island may be cruel and power-hungry, but nothing you know can prepare you for the depths of depravity that will be unleashed if the Red and the White are allowed to rise.”



“I entreat you to join with us. Help us defeat those Alfar who’ve come to our Island, seeking to destroy it. For that’s what the Red and the White will do. They won’t discriminate. They’ll destroy everything. Human, supernatural, Alfar, and halfling. We’ll finally be equal, but it will be in death.”



Blondie’s speech was making an impact, and I could see the fear in the eyes of the people sitting before me. I also knew that these were, as Blondie had said, soldiers—they were not civilians, easily scared. But as Blondie made her speech I tried to think through what the Red and the White meant to the people of this Island. They were a combination of history and bogeyman… it was as if Adolf Hitler were threatening to rise from his grave, only armed with all the power of the damned. I realized that we were asking them to fight the creatures of legends—the stories they spoke of in hushed voices.



We are asking them to fight, I thought. And some will die.



It was only at that moment that I realized what we were doing in that little basement apartment. We were creating the first cadre of soldiers for what would become an army. An army that we would lead into a battle with unspeakable power and evil, and an army made up of individuals who might die in that fight.



Only then did I understand what it meant to be Joan of Arc. I’d been so busy making martyring jokes that I hadn’t thought through what she’d been responsible for, which was leading people to kill others and be killed, themselves.



My skin had grown clammy, and I felt woozy—my head spun suddenly in the oppressive, smelly air of the tiny room. It was like I was very far away when Blondie turned to stand beside me, her arm around my waist.



“But do not think you are alone, my comrades. Do not think we have been abandoned, and do not think we have no hope. For just as the Red and the White rise from legend, so does our champion!”



And with that, Blondie pushed me forward gently. Yet I still managed to stumble, my legs gone numb as I saw the faces peering at me.



Just as I thought they would, their faces showed a mixture of uncertainty and dread. I looked over at Blondie, pleadingly.



“Call the weapon of the champion, Jane,” Blondie said, smiling at me with encouragement. “Show them the labrys.”



And so I did. I reached into that place where I knew it waited, and I called.



It came to me, and I held it aloft.



The room, quiet before, went as silent as the grave. I could feel all eyes on me, their uncertainty changing to something else.



“Light it,” Blondie murmured. And as if answering her command, I felt the power of the creature thrust itself through me and into the ax.



The light it gave off was almost blinding, and there were shouts as faces were averted. I didn’t understand what they were shouting about, as my own eyes had been forced to shut at the brightness of the labrys. But as I toned down the power, getting it under control and dialing down the light pouring forth from the ax, I saw the faces of the soldiers in that room.



They were looking at the labrys, at me, with rapt faces, all traces of doubt or fear wiped clean away. Some even had tears in their eyes, and one tough-looking woman was openly weeping.



If the Red and the White were creatures sprung from legend, so was the champion, the person they’d been taught about as children. I thought back to all of those books in the Great Repository, those textbooks they’d all been forced to study that talked about the champion and her power. No wonder they reacted to me as if I were King Arthur brandishing Excalibur.



Blondie’s hand closed on my shoulder from behind me as she stepped forward to join me.



“Who fights with me, fights with our champion. Who fights with our champion?” the Original called.



A loud howl tore through the chest of an incredibly beefy man sitting front-and-center. “Me!” he shouted, beginning to pound his fists on the floor. Others joined him, either stamping their booted feet or slapping their hands on walls or tables.



“Me! Me! Me!” they chanted, declaring their allegiance to their champion.



“Who will follow us to victory!” yelled Blondie. The chant continued, swelling in volume and speed until it was deafening.



Looking out at that audience, watching me with adoration, tears burned in my eyes.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN



I still felt nauseated, but the cool water on my face helped. Bent over the sink, I filled my palms with another handful to splash on my cheeks, before drinking deeply from the faucet. Then I raised my still dripping face to the mirror, looking into my own eyes.



“What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?” I whispered to myself. But I had no answers.



“Jane?” Anyan called from outside the bathroom door just as he knocked, softly. “You all right?”



I opened the door for him, and he frowned when he saw my face. I probably looked as good as I felt.



We’d returned only moments ago from the little apartment where I’d met the troops. We were staying in a lovely big town house courtesy of one of Blondie’s local contacts, and I should have been thrilled that Anyan and I finally had our own bed with it’s own en suite bath. But I couldn’t care less.