Page 10 of Echoes of War

“What? Is your name Amaia or somethin’. Last I checked I don’t take orders from the lapdog.” She released a mocking bark, grinning as she swiped the letter from my hands.

“It’s nothing we don’t already know,” I said, watching her thick brows scrunch as she scoured the letter again, “If you’re here to help, why are you hiding?”

“I was going to speak up, but … you scare me. I was hyping myself up for it,” he stammered, shadow-boxing the air on bouncing toes. “And there’s nothing new on the letter because the knowledge I hold is up here. I just brought it as proof because, well, like I said, you scare me. I figured I’d need some tangible evidence.” He thudded a finger against the temple of his head.Scholar, of the Seer sort, like Moe.

“Go on.” My voice was rough, impatient.

Amaia wouldn’t like this one bit. Riley having made use of a literal child as a spy. The way Riley had spoken of him, he’d been here since the end of the war. He would have been solidly under the age Amaia had allowed to staff her troops. Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t as hesitant as Sloan to arm them. Everyone in a position of power would have to bend over and let their morals fuck them at some point. Figure out which line is worth crossing and which one isn’t. It was possible that, at one point, he was needed. Shit maybe it was his choice.

His stammering was probably endearing to some. I could see how he could be a good choice to welcome people to the area, but you don’t leave someone at the gates who can’t hold their own in some capacity.

I’d keep an eye on him.

“I’m Abel. Riley said you’d be expecting me. I’m his inside guy, I work Duluth’s front gate. Mostly responsible for greeting new arrivals. More specifically tasked to escort each emissary that arrives. I know who can help us, and who we’ll need to focus on using more … convincing tactics.” He gazed at Reina knowingly.

“Why would Riley tell you that?” I asked, suspicion creeping in. They were a tight group, they didn’t expose each other’s gifts unless absolutely necessary.

“He didn’t, he saw it.” Reina grinned and looped arms with him. “Now tell me, Abel, who may I have the pleasure of seducing?” She tossed her head back, brown hair blowing in the wind as she let out a brisk cackle.

Amaia

Iglanced out the large arched window that took up a wall of Sloan’s study. The city of Duluth was dimly lit by the night sky beyond it. People hunched around bonfires in the distance. I appreciated that about Duluth. During the day, they were serious. Despair filled their eyes as they moved through the settlement, the question of who was next at the forefront of their minds. But at night, shit, they partied like it was their last night. And maybe it was.

Smoke dissipated in the air as Sloan’s whiskey burned down my throat, warming the depths of my chest. She ashed her cigarette, fingers tapping to the classic rock she played on the CD player when I’d arrived. I hadn’t even realized how much I missed basic electricity. Building a dam should have been the least of their priorities, but I couldn’t say I blamed them for wanting it.

This was becoming our thing. She’d call me to her office to debrief her, and I’d have to answer her summons. It was hard, pretending the space I’d previously dedicated in my evenings to Jax and Prescott was now dedicated to this … bullshit. I missed how things used to be.

There was a time where I wished that I could turn back the clock, go back to The Before, but now, I just wanted my life in the immediate After. When things had been good, when I’d had my family.Shit, at least in her office there was judgment-free liquor. It wasn’t good booze, but anything was better than nothing.

“I need more people, Sloan,” I said, leaving her little room for resistance.

This constant, never-ending conversation was growing tiresome. It was no longer a request. She needed to heed my warning, or her people would die.

“That can’t happen and you know that.” Her fire red hair grazed the ground as she leaned her head back in her chair, trying to tune me out.

“Sloan …”

“No, Maia.” Sloan’s voice cracked, her sad blue eyes met mine. For the first time in weeks, I saw the emotions that tormented her, the thoughts she tried to keep everyone from seeing. “I can’t. You know that.”

Violet, her daughter, giggled from the balcony, her dolls slamming into each other with force. Sloan watched her with caring, watchful eyes, a small smile forming as she lost herself to daydreams.

“There are over fifty-thousand people here, Sloan, and only eight-hundred soldiers. It’s not sustainable. Hell, it’s not even operational if you want me to be honest.”

“I promised Morgan I would keep these people safe. Give Violet a shot of normalcy, a good place to grow up. Similar to what you have out in Monterey, in Salem. They deserve that, and wecan’t give them that if we arm the innocent. Armchildren,” she said in a hushed tone through clenched teeth.

Morgan was Duluth’s fallen leader. I’d worked closely with him during the war between territories. He’d been a sensible man, still had his morals intact. Learning of their romantic relationship had taken me by surprise simply because I hadn’t seen any remnants of romance in their interactions during the time I’d spent here. But things change quickly when life goes to shit, and I could see how she’d be drawn to the kindness I’d seen in him.

It was a good balance; where he was kind, she was hopeful. In their leadership, that hadn’t been a good mix. In his death, she had realized that, making her wary of learning another lesson.

The lesson of balance. A lesson she was on the cusp of learning, whether she realized it or not. A lesson she needed to master. Ruthlessness must be checked by kindness. Hopefulness must be checked by reality. One without the other was a recipe for disaster in this world.

A good leader can be both ruthless and kind. Hopeful but realistic. Unfortunately for my friend, she only presented each flaw one at a time.

“Then keep them safe. Train them, help them be prepared. Eventually I have to leave, Sloan, go back to prepare my own people. Your citizens deserve a fighting chance, and you need to give them that. Because if you don’t, when war comes to your walls, this place will fall.”

Her round lips closed over the butt of her cigarette before she put it out. My old friend stared back at me, pleading to help make the decision easier. I would offer no help here. This was a decision she needed to make on her own. There was no one who could press the red button but her.

“We don’t get to preserve innocence anymore, Sloan. I hate it too, but now is for fighting, for doing what we can to make sure at least some sliver of it will remain. Meaning, we have to nip this shitin the bud. Fast. And to do that, we need numbers.People. I agree, we shouldn’t be arming children, but they still need to know how to fight should shit go bad. Everyone under sixteen can shelter,Violetcan shelter,” I said, reaching across the desk to grab her hand. “Besides that, get them ready to fight.”

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