Chapter Fourteen Page Eight, Bren, The Memorial Center

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“It’s an idea,” Seymour said, “But it is nothing more than that.”

            “We should consider it,” Jacqueline said, sounding hopeful. There was a shift in the room. Everyone seemed to grow uncomfortable at once.

            “You like this idea?” Blackwell asked.

            “We were already thinking of it, all of us,” she said, “Bren was just the only one brave enough to voice it.”

            “I would not dare to consider such a dangerous and foolhardy plan,” Blackwell said, “We would be putting everyone at risk.” He paused, looking at every face in the room, “And who would we send to destroy the Bricklayers? We have no combatants. Our only soldiers died long ago. We have only the grace of the Autarch protecting us, and who knows if he may drop his support, should we ask him to turn his ire on our enemies?”

            “But you have weapons, right?” Bren asked, “Just no soldiers who know how to use them?”

            “Yes,” Blackwell said, “Ancient weapons of awesome power. But we don’t know how to channel their energies for offense. We have only ever been able to use them to defend our home.”

            “Let me give ‘em a whirl,” Bren said, “I’ll figure something out.”

            “Are you sure?” Blackwell asked.

            “I’ve used an ancient weapon pretty extensively,” Bren said, “A weapon that, unfortunately, was stolen from me.” She looked around the room. She eyed Seymour for a particularly long amount of time, hoping to draw a guilty look out of him. “Anyway,” she said, “I used it to attack my enemies. So... I might be able to figure out any other ancient weapons.”

            “She has the blood of a soldier in her,” Seymour said, “Her parents…”

            Bren gave him a look.

            “Her parents were soldiers,” he said.

            Blackwell sighed.

            “Even if Brenda can use the weapons,” Jacqueline said, “What about the rest of us? What can we do to help?”

            “You won’t need to do anything,” Bren said, “If these weapons are as powerful as the one that was taken from me.”

            “Very well,” Blackwell said, “A vote? All those in favor of Bren’s plan?”

Hands were raised. Bren didn’t attempt to count them.

“It is decided,” Blackwell said, “Bren will attempt to harness the power of these ancient weapons to use them against our enemies. Does anyone else have a suggestion for the evening?”

            Silence again. Bren listened and heard that, somehow, everyone’s breathing rhythms were synced up again. Everyone but her’s. She was also the only one in a white robe in the room. She wondered if the two things were linked.

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