Chaos. The only word that could describe it was chaos. Caleb had never seen the rebels so unorganised, so fearful. And it struck him, deep down in his bones. And he was afraid. People yelled, scrounging around the city in desperate attempts to salvage as much as possible before darting out of the masses of rebels into the outer areas. Children of the rebellion; born to this side and orphaned or taken to the rebellion with their families for protection, wailed. Their sobs of fear, confusion, pain, echoed together as the few women of the group ran to them, picking them up and following the others out to the outskirts of the madness. Not a word was heard clearly in the sea of voices and Caleb's head started to throb again. He needed to get them organised, in control. He needed them to be the rebellion he'd known for so long, not the scared people that surrounded him now.
"Hey!" He yelled out, but no one heard him. Glancing around the area, he saw the Elders meeting table still intact and decided to make use of it. Running over, he hopped on to one of their chairs before stepping on to the table. Cupping his hands around his mouth he hollered out, in a loud commanding voice; "HEY!" People slammed to a halt, deciding to listen to the authority figure. Those who didn't stop, choosing to be ignorant, rammed into the others, complaining and whining before a man hissed at them through the shaking, "Shut up! The boy wishes to speak!"
Boy. The one word sent shivers of uncertainty through Caleb. He knew he was young, but he always saw himself as more mature than the others, more mature than most of the men there too. He was more than a boy. But of course, the rebellion held little respect for those who were not Elders, even if they were the main authority figures. Blocking out his self-consciousness, he focused on giving a strong order, one that radiated his authority through and through and made sure he was respected. Silence had fallen over the group, though the rattling and rumbling of the ceiling continued; large holes coating the once pristine green marble. "Be quiet—" "We are quiet!" Caleb glared ferociously at the ignorant rebel; a smart ass boy a few years younger than him who believed he out-ranked everyone because of the stubble on his chin and his imposing height. "Move silently or the enemy will follow. Now, gather everything and go silently to the new base. The Elders are not here to guide you; I am. So move it!" And so they did.
****Rebel Fire****
The rebels had eventually gotten what little dignity they had, back, and moved towards the caves in the upmost stealth. The caves had been the homes of dragons centuries ago, but once the creatures started to die out, man took over. They had been mapped out and were the new home of the rebellion; thought of in case of a retreat. Each rank had their own cave with a series of tunnels to connect them to the other rebels. The Elders and the rebel leaders such as Caleb and Aldarn, were housed in the top caves, the least damp ones that received the most of the sun while it shone. They were also the only caves with furniture like structures in them. Rock slabs made beds and tables, while small boulders made stools. The other rebels would have to sleep in tents or along the cave floor. For that, Caleb felt lucky.
He led them through the Infinite City to the hidden staircase, that descended into the nearest walkway to the outside world. It was linked up with the Mage's quarters, but hidden well enough that even if they did find the Mage, they would never find the staircase. The rebels grumbled multiple complaints, but seemed to carry out their orders without much else protest. The only frequent thing that annoyed Caleb, was the constant bickering among the men and women, complaining about snivelling children; all of them frightened, which caused the rebel leader to snap, demanding they shut up immediately or he would gut them like a fish. But he didn't tell them to shut up because they irritated him, or because they needed the silence. Caleb told them to shut up so he could think.
Questions swirled around like tornados in his head, each question screaming at him, with a voice, demanding an answer that he could not give. How had they been discovered? Was it the girl? Had she done this to them? He doubted it but maybe she knew how to track him magically. Or was that possible? Stupid, he thought, of course it's possible, Phobos does it all the time to search for his missing sister. Phobos' missing sister. The true heir of Meridian. The girl who would end the Tyrant's reign and restore the world to its former glory. She would bring peace, if only they could find her. She had been kidnapped when she was a baby, taken away from the tyranny for her own safety, and no one knew where she was, except that she was on Earth. Earth…
Maybe that was where the girl was from. Maybe that was why she was never at the palace, because she was on Earth, searching for Phobos' sister. But maybe she wasn't. Caleb wasn't sure, he didn't feel like thinking about this. The only thing he wanted to know was, would the girl have done this to him? He didn't know…maybe that was what the red head regretted doing. Caleb sighed. He didn't even know if she knew magic let alone if she was advanced enough to trace him. Shaking his head he looked up. Ahead of him, in a fork, were three trails; one on the left, one on the right and one going straight ahead, down the middle. He frowned. Which way was it? The Elders had only taken the rebels down this pathway once or twice…so long ago. Sharing a look with Aldarn, who shrugged his shoulders, his face showing creases of confusion, though they were difficult to discern from his many battle scars. Which to choose….? The left? The right? Or the middle? "Sir," his head turned to face the group again, "which way?" Glaring back at the tunnels he sighed again, something he was doing far too often. "We'll go left."
****Rebel Fire****
After searching the left and middle trails, following them to their dead ends, they discovered, the correct trail, was in fact, the right one. Obviously. The Elders had chosen it because it was obvious; the right trail was the one on the right. Duh. Caleb almost laughed at his own stupidity. But he supressed it. Tired rebels continued to trek onwards, groaning and moaning their exhaustion as Caleb ground his teeth together. His patience was legendary, one of his best qualities, but they were getting on his last nerve. He was all for the rebellion, honestly, because if he wasn't, he'd already have joined Phobos…and maybe have found the red head— but he didn't care about how tired they were when the Infinite City, his home for more than ten years, had been attacked and potentially, destroyed. They could rest when they got to their new home.
"C'mon men! The faster you move, the sooner you rest!" A large moan was received in reply but no other protest was made. It was a good sign, or so he hoped. Rallying the troops was never his strong suit. It was the maker of a leader and though he led them in battle, gave orders, marked their next move, took lives in the name of the rebellion and was their authority figure; Caleb was no leader. And most certainly not of the rebels. Though they listened and followed him, he knew deep down they saw him for what he was. When he was as mature as a man and the age of a teenager; he was really a child. And they saw him for that.
"Finally!" Aldarn cheered, smiling wildly as they reached the large series of caves along the mountains. The weary eyed troops, men, women and children, beamed grubby smiles, muck and sweat covering them as well as nicks, gashes and bruises, almost all covered in blood. Caleb could honestly find it amusing that they smiled so brightly after cursing and grumbling for so long. For so many hours. "Alright men! You know the drills! Go set up camp!" Aldarn bellowed as the rebels clambered into their many caves in the mountainside, torch light brightening up the darkness of the damp rocky caverns. The caves were damp, freezing cold and dark, on the side of a snow covered mountain yet their smiles never left their faces. Caleb found his thoughts drifting to the red head, as they often did, and he wondered if she could smile like that. Did the minions of Phobos even smile? He had only ever seen them smirk. But he was sure, if not them all, than at least she was capable of smiling. And he was sure when she did it would be beautiful, strong and confident; radiant, just as she appeared, just as her voice promised him she was. Sighing contentedly for once, he let a new thought overwhelm him. If he saw her again, would she smile for him?