Rescue

XXII.

The Light Police gathered, plotting their attack on the remains of the Lighthouse, now controlled by The Glare. They hoped that The Glare would be unaware of the secret passageways that would lead directly to the prison cells, hoping that they could ascend unawares and disarm the guards, freeing the prisoners before the alert could go up. If that failed, they doubted that anything could solve their problems. They were almost certain that this would be their only shot, attacking while the city was still in disarray, adjusting to the change and lurking in the rubble, yet to rebuild. The Glare would be at their weakest, still ecstatic from their victory and the retreat of the Light Police, perhaps even doubting that they would return at all. In any case, the time had come. The Light Police had returned to the city and were making the rounds to prepare for the assault. Tiesa seemed in perpetual dusk, a minimal amount of light shining. Although certain parts of the city appeared to have more daylight than others. Around the remains of the Lighthouse, darkness remained, with the Light being used inside, likely to light the corridors and rooms, but probably not the prison cells, confining the Keepers in shadow.

The city was beginning to come alive, increasing the tension of the Light Police, waiting for the opportune moment to begin their assault, where they could seem to appear from the people in the streets and later assimilate back into the crowds, but early enough that the people wouldn’t see enough of them to identify them later. It would be a short leap to identify them, because no one else would launch an attack on The Glare, but if they could limit the number of people that saw them, before, during and after, that would be ideal. The fewer eye witnesses, the smaller the chance that they could be identified by facial features, allowing them to change clothes and effectively reintegrate into Tiesa, until the time was right to further bring down The Glare.

A crystal was raised, the light glinting off of it. It was time.

The Light Police swarmed the tower, some guarding the exits, while a squad of ten began to ascend the secret passageway that would lead them directly to the prisoners. The Glare had yet to notice, everything was going according to plan, when there was a shot fired from across the rubble strewn courtyard. They had been seen! The Light Police scattered and hid themselves behind large pieces of rubble, preparing for the attack. More shots came and a group of The Glare’s agents came. The Light Police fired back, having spent their time in the past few days modifying their clubs and crystals into long-range weapons, ready to fire. Light Police and Glare agents were hit and fell, some injured, some mortally wounded. As the shootout continued in the courtyard, the tower began to stir, more agents of The Glare rushing to the courtyard, surrounding the Light Police.

The Light Police rushed the stairs, bursting through to an ambush. The guards had either been warned or known about the secret entrance. They had no choice but to push through, the front line, taking the hit for the others, hoping to buy enough time for the Light Police that followed to disarm the guards and grab the keys to free the prisoners. As the fallen Light Police fell, those behind grabbed their bodies to use as shields from the weapons of the Glare’s guards. Pushing through and fighting in close quarters with the guards, a nimble bodied policeman grabbed the keys and rushed to the prison doors, unlocking them, while the guards were engaged in combat. The prisoners stood, confused as the policeman called to them to get out. Thaddeus arose and helped herd the prisoners out of the cell, guiding the bearded, blind man, issuing words of comfort and encouragement. The guards were overpowering the Light Police and reinforcements were rushing up the stairs. The Light Police held back the guards long enough for the prisoners to escape, hoping that the scene outside was better than theirs by the prison cells. A few of the Light Police jumped down the passageway after the prisoners, closing and barricading the entrance behind them. They had taken heavy casualties.

As the prisoners reached the bottom, they stopped before opening the door. The policeman with the keys, and others with useful weapons, unlocked or broke the chains that had bound them, freeing them to use their arms and legs at will.  They listened, hoping to hear some comforting sounds to reassure them of the safety of the Light Police on the other side, but instead there was the sound of continuous Light fire. They waited, hoping for a definitive ending, that would signal the victory of the Light Police. With nothing coming, they decided that it was now or never, that they needed to make a break for it or they might be trapped forever.

They busted through the door and ran for their lives, the remaining Light Police with them shooting in all directions to serve as a distraction, simply hoping to protect the Keepers that they had rescued. The Glare’s agents were surprised and turned to begin shooting at the escaping prisoners. The trapped Light Police used this as an opportunity to run out, firing back and diverting the attention again from the prisoners to the escaping Light Police. The confusion was sufficient for most to escape, but Thaddeus was in the rear, helping the bearded blind man, when a shot was fired that would have killed the blind man. Thaddeus pushed him out of the way, the shot hitting Thaddeus in the arm and knocking him to the ground. He struggled to get up, but the Glare’s agents shot his legs, leaving him immobilized.

“Run, blind man!” Thaddeus yelled from his broken position.

“Thank you, Thaddeus,” came the whispered reply in a familiar voice, before he began to run, arms outstretched, hoping to intercept any walls or boulders that would block the path.

Thaddeus looked after the running blind man, realizing who it was that he had saved.

“Bartholomew? May you have learned and unite the remaining Light Police and Keepers to save the remnants of Tiesa.”

As Thaddeus spoke under his breath, a group of The Glare’s agents approached and lifted him up, holding his arms and leading him back to the prison cell. Many of The Glare ran after the departing Keepers and Light Police, hoping to catch or kill as many as possible before they reached some place of security. Thaddeus was bound and returned to a prison cell with others that had been wounded or captured in the fracas. The numbers were slim and it seemed likely that many would die from the wounds they received if they were not treated shortly. Thaddeus was slightly in shock over the survival of the now blind Bartholomew. If only he had known earlier than they could have had a plan for the inevitable number of prisoners and members of the Light Police that would be captured. On the other hand, it probably wouldn’t have done much good, as they had no idea that others would come to rescue them, they had assumed that they were going to die there or be killed before death could naturally occur.

Thaddeus knew that it would likely only be a short time before they were killed. They were a liability and in the eyes of The Glare, an imperfection needing to be purified to allow Tiesa to reach its fullest potential. Thaddeus only hoped that Bartholomew had made it and that the Keepers could unite to restore the Lighthouse and the good that it had done, learning from the mistakes that led to the rise of The Glare and their downfall. Perhaps it was time for someone else to take over and the Lighthouse had become too corrupt, there simply needed to be a transfer of leadership. Thaddeus could only hope that something would be done for the good of Tiesa, since his part had been played. He would soon be departing the world, unable to influence the plans and movements of any organization.

Elsewhere in the tower, Roxanne and The Glare continued to talk, relatively undisturbed by the attack and jailbreak. The Glare had ordered his guards and armed agents to be ready to respond to any threat, detailing the secret passages that he had used as a kid, with the joy of sneaking around the Lighthouse. The thought was almost enough to make him genuinely smile. Almost. Roxanne remembered ridiculous amounts of information from their youth and seemed to truly care about him, but he was largely indifferent to her feelings, having removed himself from emotional connections years ago. Yet, there was something. She was able to elaborate on ideas and actually understood what he was saying, not just the words, but why he chose those specific words or what he meant behind the words. Of course, they had been like brother and sister, but it had been at least ten years since they had last met. However the bond remained, something tied them together.

“How will you spread the Light to all? As I stood in the crowd, it was clear that the Light rested in the hands of a few. They had monopolized the Light, using it to hold themselves above the rest.”

“I gave the Light to the people and they chose what to do with it. There is nothing more to be done. You cannot force them to share the Light equally. Perhaps the inequality is meant to happen, to separate those that are worthy from those that are not. The world has always taken the strong over the weak, purifying the stream. That is all that is happening.”

“But, the Light is supposed to bring us together and help us reach out to others, caring, inspiring us to more than just the Light.”

“The Light is everything. What more is there?”

“Love, Patrick. You know, ‘Love extends beyond choice, to the deepest, darkest crevices where the Light cannot reach’?”

“I know the adage, but it means nothing. It’s simply a phrase that the Keepers used to placate those that wanted more of the Light, claiming that something was more valuable. Nothing trumps the Light. When has Love led to conquest and power? When has Love toppled towers and brought oppressive regimes to their knees? Ha, the Light is where the power is. The Keepers knew that and that’s why the Lighthouse became more and more controlling, they wanted the power that the Light brings.”

“You can’t control the Light, Patrick. The Light is meant to be free, shining of its own accord. The Keepers were only to keep the Light, to protect it and ensure that its glow was felt by all. That is the legacy of the Lighthouse. The true age of the Light that once was. We can bring that back. The peace and devotion to each other was astounding.”

“No, the Light is a tool, to be wielded for the purpose of the holder. Nothing more, nothing less. You speak of this grand ideal that can never be reached. The best we can do is to scatter the Light and hold on to as much as possible. The people will decide who should hold the Light and what it should be used for.”

“No, you don’t understand. The Light will not be controlled. That is what led to Bartholomew’s downfall. I can’t have the same happen to you.”