by Jacinta Jade
Mocery didn’t hesitate but leapt through the small gap into the new tunnel straightaway, Deson close on his heels.
And as they disappeared through the entrance, the sound of shouting, running feet, and cries of alarm and pain beat against Siray’s ears.
She rushed forwards to poke just her head through the gap to look, and as she peered through the doorway, she saw that havoc reigned beyond.
People in Resistance uniforms were fleeing past in the passage, but sprinkled amongst them were Faction soldiers in their own uniforms of black and gold, the lead scouts for an advancing company. The scouts were taking down targets of seeming specific interest, using a varied array of weapons to injure or knock out prey.
Siray took it all in with wide eyes and then whipped her head around to look at the others, including Baindan, whose face was grim as he edged forwards to lay a hand on her back.
‘Deson!’ cried out Jorgi. ‘Look out!’
Siray’s head snapped back to look at the tunnel, her eyes seeking the point where Deson and Mocery had first landed when they had entered the tunnel.
But they were no longer there, and a quick scan found them both bolting up the tunnel, away from the advancing soldiers, where they had moved into the centre of the fleeing masses.
And that put them squarely in the target zone of the advancing enemy, whose first line were lowering the bows from which they had just loosed a storm of arrows.
Apparently now that they had picked out the choice captives they wanted from the escaping horde, they were less concerned about killing.
Everything slowed down for Siray as she twisted her head, her training intuitively telling her exactly where those arrows were going to fall. She felt herself lurch forwards to jump through the gap, her arms reaching out for Deson, but she was stopped from running to save him by someone grabbing hold of her around the middle.
Fighting against someone stronger than her, she was unable to complete her leap and was forced to watch helplessly as those arrows reached the top of their arc and began to plunge down in a deadly rush.
As the torrent of arrows fell upon the panicked crowd of fleeing people, Deson and Mocery, caught in the centre, had no chance.
Siray heard a terrible scream rip from someone’s throat as Deson’s body jerked several times as each time arrow impaled him, but she didn’t realise the cry rose from her own lips.
Siray … I’m so sorry, Siray. I failed …
Deson’s thought came to her dimly, as if it was travelling across a great distance, and Siray shook her head, not willing to understand why his mental voice was so faint, and growing weaker still.
Suddenly, the air was free of arrows, and time was speeding up again. Wrenching her shoulders forwards, Siray tore herself away from the person holding her and, unimpeded, vaulted from the hiding place in the tunnel, not even glancing to see how close the Faction soldiers were as she landed and took off in Deson’s direction.
Deson! I’m coming! she thought to him, as she dodged other injured and dying Resistance members strewn about the tunnel.
But even though her feet nearly flew across the ground, she wasn’t fast enough to catch Deson before he collapsed limply to the ground, multiple arrow shafts rising from his body. A sudden yank inside her mind almost made her stumble, but she managed to reach Deson two breaths later, dropping to her knees beside him.
But now there was an emptiness in her mind where her link with Deson had once been.
And she knew.
That didn’t stop her from calling out his name, again and again, and from placing one hand on his forehead and using the other to grip one of his still-warm hands, as if her touch might help call him back. Her mind seemed afloat in the emptiness as she stared into Deson’s lifeless eyes, still not willing to believe.
‘Deson,’ she whispered now. Then she shouted it within her own mind. Deson!
‘Go,’ croaked a wet-sounding voice from nearby.
Lifting her head was an effort, and it took a couple of blinks to clear the water from her eyes, but Siray eventually managed to raise her head enough to look past Deson to where Mocery lay.
His clothes were bloody from his numerous wounds, his head was tilted towards her, and his eyes were at odds with his dying body, their fading spark showing that he still clung to life by a hair.
Siray looked at him, her hands still clutching at Deson, her body tense and frozen. She couldn’t leave Deson. Leaving would mean acknowledging that he was de—
No. Her mind blanked out the thought. She couldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t leave him.
Mocery’s mouth moved again, still forming the word, still urging her, but no sound came from him this time. Then he stilled as a trail of blood snaked from his mouth, and his eyes went dull.
An arm came from nowhere to seize Siray then, its indomitable strength dragging her to her feet. ‘No! No!’ She thrashed her arms and legs, determined to get back to Deson.
‘We’ve got to go!’ a voice was yelling from behind her.
As familiar as that voice was to her, she couldn’t remember the name that went with it. It didn’t matter.
‘Let me go! I’ve got to help him! I’ve got to get him out of here!’
A face interposed itself between her and her view of Deson lying there, and a new voice—different to the one from behind—shouted at her. ‘Siray! The soldiers are coming—we’ve got to leave now!’
She moved her head, trying to see around the face that was blocking her view. Then someone grabbed her head, and the face moved closer, blocking out anything else.
‘Listen to me!’ A pair of golden eyes glared at her. ‘He’s dead. Gone. There’s nothing you can do!’
Those golden eyes were close enough that Siray could see her own scared face reflected in them, and the colour told her who it was. Zale. And he wanted her to do something.
‘If we don’t run now, we won’t make it!’ yelled the other voice from behind.
Run? Why would they need to run? Her head felt light as these curious thoughts ran through it. Then the desperate black voice within her rose up again. Deson would never run again …
Siray’s mind began to float towards that empty space within her again, and she wanted to dive into it, follow where it led, see if Deson lay at the other end.
But then a sharp pain erupted in her left hand.
Startled, Siray glanced down at her hand, expecting to see an arrow impaled there. But there was nothing. Another memory flashed before her eyes, of her grabbing for a door handle … and she remembered what had come after. Capture. Torture. Death.
It was a warning.
She had already died once at the hands of these monsters.
She wouldn’t die again.
The thought pierced the fog in her mind, and Siray twisted around, away from Zale’s alarmed and burning eyes, to see Baindan standing there holding her and the Faction soldiers pointing and running towards them.
‘Go!’ she yelled, echoing Mocery’s last word.
The hand Baindan was holding her with tightened further to pull her along with him, and she felt Zale grab her other arm, also hurrying her along.
After a couple of strides, she was steadier, and she shook off the hands holding her arms, her breathing fast and ragged, each stride taking enormous mental effort. But she kept going and, looking ahead, saw the backs of other familiar fleeing figures.
Beyond them she could also see that the passage split off into three different tunnels.
Having lost Mocery, and with Kinna and Zale trailing too far behind to offer an opinion, Kovi and Tamot hesitated for just a breath before they both lunged for the smaller tunnel on the left.
‘Keep going!’ gasped Baindan from Siray’s left.
She glanced that way as she pumped her legs. Baindan. He was the one who had pulled her away from Deson. She twisted her face back again to look where she was running, pushing down the resentment she felt. And then she found herself leaning forwards and working h
arder as she ran on, her lungs burning.
The tunnel was sloping upwards, and muffled yells of pursuit still sounded from behind.
They had to outrun the Faction. And there was only one way to do that.
‘We need to Change!’ she called breathlessly to Baindan and Zale.
A growl from her left, and Siray twisted her head to see Baindan in his cripwof form, his large grey eyes looking at her expectantly. She snapped her head to the right and spied Zale in the midst of Changing.
The colour of his golden eyes appeared to consume him as his body shifted and grew, the molten glow licking up and over his body as he hunched over onto all fours. As wings burst from his back and more feathers sprouted across his body, Zale leapt from the ground, flaring his immense wings as he took to the air.
Zale was a fiorify.
Blinking the golden haze away from her vision, Siray also Changed, the instant strength and fiery nature of her yeibon form a familiar and welcome feeling.
And she was so much faster in this form!
She galloped along, Baindan sprinting beside her and growling at intervals. From the corner of her eye, she could also see the golden glow Zale was emitting as he flew close by, his wingtip almost brushing her right shoulder.
More confident now in their escape as the three of them also entered the leftmost tunnel, part of her wanted to turn and bring the fight to the soldiers.
To run them down.
To spear them on her horns.
She was sure that the three of them together could do it.
Cold logic reasserted itself quickly, though, and she narrowed her large eyes, forcing herself to move faster still. Indulging her impulse for revenge wouldn’t win them the day. If they killed the first wave of soldiers, there would be another wave. And another.
Escape. Plan. Fight.
That was what she had to do. In their animal forms, they were gaining rapidly on the rest of their group, while the distance between them and the pursuing soldiers increased.
The Faction soldiers could, of course, Change. But they had the numbers, and thus, the advantage, and they seemed confident that they would catch their quarry soon.
As Siray, Baindan, and Zale rounded a corner in the tunnel, they spied the others all standing together, looking down at something ahead of them.
Siray snorted. Why hadn’t they Changed? Why weren’t they running?
Jorgi spun at their approach, his eyes going wide as he glanced at the golden glow that was Zale. He raised his hands to signal them as Tamot stepped to his side, also eyeing Zale’s new form. ‘There’s a bridge,’ Jorgi called when they were a few body lengths away.
Surprised, Siray slowed rapidly and Changed back at the news, her own two legs slowing to a brisk walk as she approached the others, Zale and Baindan also Changing.
Patting Jorgi on the shoulder in thanks for his warning, she edged forwards to stand by Genlie.
Her jaw dropped.
The bridge, if you could call it that, was made from wood and rope, and was extremely long and narrow. And below it and to either side was a black chasm.
Zale moaned. ‘Wrong tunnel. The fast way out definitely does not have a bridge crossing.’
‘No choice,’ Kovi said, gritting his teeth as he stepped out onto the bridge. His hands gripped the rope tightly on either side as the bridge swayed and groaned. Obviously, this was one part of the facility that command hadn’t gotten around to modernising.
Kovi kept moving, his steps getting faster and faster as he grew more confident, and soon he was on the other side of the abyss, the bridge still swinging wildly as he turned around and waved for the rest of them to cross.
It was clear to them all that this was a bridge that was meant to be crossed one person at a time.
Yet the rumble of many approaching feet was growing louder from behind that last bend in the tunnel.
They all looked at each other.
‘Flame it all,’ growled Genlie. ‘I’d rather die out there than let them catch me.’ And she Changed and ran out onto the bridge, the dual fluffy tails of her oxy form floating through the air as she scurried across.
That settled it. Barring Baindan and Zale, whose wings could carry them across the huge space, the rest of them speedily created a file and prepared to cross the bridge.
Only to hear the roar of voices from behind.
Whirling around, Siray saw that about ten or so Faction soldiers, almost a squad, had rounded the last bend in the tunnel and were sprinting towards them.
This sight proved too much for Loce, who pushed his way past Tamot and Jorgi to dart to the front of the line and race across the bridge.
Siray stared after him in disgust, which rapidly turned to horror, as she watched the bridge begin to bounce and sway violently under Loce’s feet.
And just as he gained firm ground on the other side of the chasm, a series of snaps rent the air, and the bridge began to twist.
Tamot and Jorgi, who had already taken a couple of steps onto the bridge, hurriedly stumbled backwards, Tamot pulling Jorgi along with him as the other’s clumsy feet foundered.
When the pair were safely back with Siray, Baindan, Zale, Wexner and Kinna on the ground, they all turned to eye the bridge.
Which was now hanging on its side, its length suspended by only the left-hand side rope ties.
Siray’s breath was shallow as she risked a glance behind her. There were just moments until the Faction soldiers reached them.
‘Surrender or die!’ a female in the lead yelled at them.
Siray glanced to Baindan and Zale, about to tell them to Change and fly to safety, but the words failed her when she saw them both gazing calmly and stubbornly at her.
They were not about to leave her, or the others, she saw. They both drew in closer to her, their instincts and bond greater than any rivalry.
Siray took in a deep breath. She would not surrender. She would fight. She prepared to Change.
Instead, a big, furry arm plucked her from between Baindan and Zale and pulled her in close until she was tucked in tightly to its body alongside a surprised Tamot, Kinna, and Wexner.
Siray gasped—Jorgi had Changed! Thick red tufts of hair tickled her face as she was pressed close against the bony plates that covered his torso, and she looked over the long arm holding her in time to see Baindan and Zale Change into their winged forms and take flight across the cavern. Then the female Faction soldier was there, drawing back her sword to swing it at Jorgi …
The world spun as Jorgi whirled and jumped. Into the abyss.
Siray screamed along with Kinna as they fell, wrapped in Jorgi’s arms, Tamot’s yell of shock accompanying them while Wexner remained silent.
Then they stopped with a bone-shaking jerk.
Siray opened her eyes, not knowing when she had closed them, and then almost wished she hadn’t when she saw she was hanging upside down, suspended in one of Jorgi’s arms, who in turn was holding on to the half-suspended bridge by his large, hairy feet.
The Faction soldiers screamed to a halt at the edge of the chasm, their faces stunned as they beheld Jorgi hanging there, holding four others.
Jorgi, however, was already rearranging his passengers, pressing Kinna and Wexner into the crushing embrace of his two middle limbs to join Siray and Tamot. Then, curling his head upwards, he grabbed on to the bridge with his front hands and used the four gripping limbs to start climbing across the abyss, hanging all the while from the bottom of the broken bridge.
The movement seemed to shake the Faction soldiers out of their daze, and the same female who had yelled at them earlier rapidly organised her soldiers, sending two males to climb out after Jorgi onto the bridge, which made the ropes groan alarmingly under the additional weight.
‘Better move it, Jorgi,’ Wexner urged from somewhere beneath a hairy arm.
Siray winced at the command, but Jorgi did indeed heed Wexner, his movements growing faster. She stretched her neck in an attempt to see betwe
en the hairy limbs moving before her—they were getting close to the other side.
‘Fire!’
The shout made Siray look up at the other side of the chasm—the squad leader had positioned two archers by the edge of the chasm, and they were preparing to loose their arrows.
Siray felt the movement as Jorgi also took a quick look back at the other side, then she felt him shift his body closer to the bridge and his arms tighten protectively around her and the others.
‘Rwwwaargghhhh!’
Jorgi’s roar shook Siray’s ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut against his bellow of pain, unable to protect her ears with her hands, pinned at her sides as they were.
‘Oh, Mother, he’s been hit!’ Tamot yelled, panicking.
Siray twisted her neck, but she could only see Tamot’s half-turned face.
Then the authoritative sound of Wexner’s voice sounded. ‘Move it, Jorgi. You can handle it—come on!’
Siray was shocked at the lack of empathy in Wexner’s voice, as was Tamot who stiffened beside her, but what else could they do?
‘Come on, Jorgi, you can make it!’ shouted Loce from the far side of the chasm, his usually quiet voice loud and urgent.
It seemed to work.
Jorgi began moving again, albeit more slowly than before, and soon they were only body lengths from where Genlie and Kovi were kneeling at the other edge of the chasm, reaching for them.
‘Fire!’
Siray twisted her head in horror as more arrows fell towards them, praying to the Mother that they were out of range.
‘Rwwaaaarrr!’
Jorgi’s animal scream this time was truly deafening, but not enough so that Siray couldn’t fail to catch Kinna’s scream as she fell from Jorgi’s grip, his hold on them all loosening momentarily.
‘Jorgi!’ yelled Tamot.
But Jorgi had already stretched out one foot to snatch Kinna back up, groaning in pain as he dragged her weight upwards until he could position her once more in the grip of one middle arm next to Wexner.
Siray managed to free one arm far enough to grip Kinna’s shoulder, who was shaking and crying.
Then Jorgi was moving again, his breathing laboured and Genlie and Kovi were there, pulling on Jorgi’s hairy upper shoulders to help heave his injured mass onto the rock, while Loce peered anxiously over their shoulders.