Heroes of Darkness

XXIV

HECTOR

The cavern of Meteor Falls was enormous. It seemed to Hector to be a world apart from anything he had ever seen. The ceiling of the cave was so high up, and the air still so fresh, he found it hard to stop believing he was still outside.

Where is all this light coming from? He wondered to himself as he walked in alongside King Brandon Brightflame and the King's Blaziken. The deep rivers seemed to illuminate a soothing light wherever they snaked their way through the rocky floors.

They had taken the cavern settlement easily. Brandon had led the charge through one of the entrances to the mountain caves, the other pathways were watched carefully by Odara's fiercest archers and some keen-eyed bird Pokemon. Hector had been in charge of one of those groups. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time a fleeing Sootopolis soldier was struck in the back, the legs, or the neck with an arrow.

They wear the Blue Orb of the Empress Glamour, he told himself. They are our enemies. Yet, inside he couldn't help but wonder if they really served the Empress or not. How many of these men had been conscripted from all across Hoenn to take part in the occupation of the villages and cities of the land? How many of these men and their Pokemon had Hector might have known from his childhood in Slateport?

He looked at his friend, Brandon Brightflame. The rightful King of Mt. Chimney wore a proud look on his face. Hector had seen one of his friends, a soldier, die by Brandon's hands, in the past. That was before everything changed. Seventeen years had passed, yet he still remembered that it was Brandon's strength that had seen him through the death of Hector's other friend and king. He looked down at his left arm. He tried to flex his fingers, but the scars still were still pinkish red, and his nerves had trouble responding.

For a moment, his thoughts turned to his bride to be, waiting faithfully for his return home in Odara. Brandon saved my life. For that, I owe him this debt. I'm sorry, Alicia, our love must wait.

They had arrived at the great waterfall. Pouring down from what seemed like golden heavens above, the crashing sound echoed off the cave walls and played like music in Hector's ears. Brandon's mercenary captains were chatting casually amongst themselves. Not a house was destroyed in the battle, not a single villager's life lost.

"How many men did we lose?" Brandon asked.

Captain Joseph responded in kind. "A dozen or so. These men that patrolled the caverns were the only ones armed. As soon as we broke through their first line, you saw how they ran like little Poochyena with their tails between their legs."

"Aye, they did," Brandon said. There was a glimmer of pride that Hector hadn't seen in a long time. "Our first victory it was, but a hollow one. As hollow as this mountain." He gazed up and down the falls. "The force the Empress left here was nothing but a shell, a peace-keeping unit. Designed to put a stop to uprisings from unarmed villagers." He looked at Hector. "Did any of the men slip through your ambush forces?"

Hector remembered each and every man who dropped dead to the ground outside Meteor Falls, fettered with arrows. "No, my King."

"Joseph, did you capture any officers?"

"Aye, we did," Joseph whistled louder than the crashing of the waterfall. A disheveled man was brought before Brandon. He was middle-aged, his hands bound by thick rope. The Odaran soldiers laughed as he was kicked down in front of the company.

Hector watched Brandon Brightflame kneel down before the captive. "Where are you from?" the red-haired exile King asked.

"Here," the man said. "Meteor Falls."