by Jacinta Jade
Once there, Jorgi rolled his body away from the abyss and opened his arms, allowing Siray and the others to tumble out.
Baindan and Zale were there in an instant, helping Siray and Kinna to stand.
Shaky, Siray thanked Baindan, then turned to assess Kinna, who was still holding on to Zale and sobbing.
Meanwhile Tamot was leaning over Jorgi, his face concerned. ‘Both arrows punctured his sides—I don’t think he should Change back. It’ll be worse if he does.’
But then the hopul was standing up, and a moment later, Jorgi’s pale face looked out at them all as he wavered on his feet.
Siray leapt towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck but holding her body slightly away from his to avoid his injuries. ‘Jorgi, you saved us!’ she said gratefully.
‘I know,’ he replied, giving her an exhausted smile as she released him.
Tamot stepped forwards to put one of Jorgi’s arm around his shoulders. ‘Let’s sit you down and—’
‘No, we’ve got to keep moving,’ Genlie said regretfully. ‘They’ll be across soon,’ she added, nodding to the two Faction soldiers halfway across the bridge. ‘Let’s move a bit farther along, then see what we can do.’
Wexner nodded at Genlie’s words, but instead of leading them away from the chasm, he strode forwards towards the still hanging bridge, pulled a short blade from his boot, and knelt by the remaining ties holding up the structure. He made short work of the last of the ropes on their side, and two high-pitched screams sounded as the rope bridge fell away into the darkness, its sudden fall breaking the Faction’s soldiers’ grips.
Siray gaped at Wexner, but he just shrugged.
‘This is war. Plus, it’s only a matter of time until they get a unit that can fly across.’
Siray was attempting to harden herself to the cavalier way he had just killed the two males, when she remembered Deson. It was like putting out a fire—one moment it was burning hot, the next simply smothered. Her doubt over Wexner’s actions died just as quickly, and she turned away to Jorgi to offer him another arm for support.
They fled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
AFTER A PERIOD of running through the tunnel, broken up only by a brief stop to see to Jorgi’s wounds and remove the arrows, the ground began to slope uphill once more, and light appeared ahead of them. Baindan had let them know that the tunnel—leading away in a different direction from Gonron than the one they had approached from—should carry them into an area where the desert began to give way to grasslands, but Siray would only believe that when she saw it with her own eyes.
Yet when it grew bright enough that none of them could deny what they were seeing, Tamot said excitedly, ‘We’re almost out!’
‘I think it’s daylight!’ Siray agreed, Jorgi half groaning and half sighing in relief from between her and Tamot.
The thought filled them all with new energy, and they hurried towards the light that promised freedom from the tunnel.
When they saw figures silhouetted by the light, Siray grew concerned, but Zale encouraged them all to keep moving.
‘I recognise those people,’ he exclaimed. ‘They’re Resistance!’ He began waving at the figures as he, Siray, and the others ran towards them. ‘Hey! Matri! Canvell!’
Reassured, the group increased their pace, keen to be with allies, and to be safe, Loce sighing loudly with relief as he joined Zale near the front of the group.
The people near the entrance turned as they heard Siray and the others approaching, but something was odd about their expressions. They were sad. Almost shameful. As one female looked Siray directly in the eye, she read the extent of the other’s silent alarm.
‘Zale …’ she said hesitantly.
He was also slowing. ‘Wait,’ he warned the others.
Too late.
As they emerged from the tunnel, several Faction soldiers stepped into position behind them, cutting off their retreat. Before them, another squad of Faction soldiers pointed weapons at them.
At the front of the group, Zale and Loce froze.
‘Stay where you are and do not attempt to flee,’ came a loud voice.
‘Oh no,’ gasped Kinna.
One of the soldiers was walking forwards, a smug grin on his face.
‘I see our captives here have managed to draw more of you out.’ He stopped a short distance away from them. ‘Anyone else coming to join you?’
None of them spoke.
He turned to his patrol and gestured, some of them moving immediately into the tunnels. The Faction male moved forwards, looking all of them over closely. ‘You’ll all suit our program very nicely, I think.’ He spun away from them again, yelling, ‘Take them to the others!’
Several soldiers moved in closer and directed the group’s attention down the sandy hillside.
‘Try to escape, and we’ll cut you down,’ warned one. ‘Move!’
***
The guards marched them for best part of a span at a ruthless pace on an almost direct line from the outskirts of the desert and into the nearby savanna. Scared and tired, Siray couldn’t remember the name of the grasslands, although she knew that more typical Kaslonian forests bordered its far edges. Instead, she focused her remaining energy on trying to think of a plan to escape, keeping her eyes on the back of Baindan, who was walking ahead of her, while she helped Tamot to support Jorgi. Because there, where the odd trees of the savanna started to grow closer together, she and her friends might have a chance of escaping.
She kept her thoughts pinned on that hope. Continued running through plans and scenarios. Assessed the condition of the others. Assessed the condition of the guards, and who she would attack first.
She had to keep her mind busy, because the silence of the group allowed too much time for her thoughts to turn back to the tunnels. And to Deson.
The mere thought of him opened that cold hole within her, the extent of that missing connection she had once had with Deson making her gasp and stumble slightly. Seeing Tamot shoot her a worried look from the other side of Jorgi, she bit down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood. Don’t lose it! she berated herself. Think of a way out of this. Think!
The trees grew in number as Siray and her friends were continually forced to march, until the thick foliage finally imposed upon the straight path the guards had been taking, and the soldiers were forced to escort them through the vegetation in a file.
Now with a better grip on herself, Siray kept a close eye on the guards once more, looking for the weak points in their formation, which some of the others were also doing.
As they rounded a tree, Jorgi stumbled, and Siray helped Tamot straighten him up quickly again.
Siray looked with concern at Jorgi. He wasn’t looking up at all, and while his feet were moving, his head hung low and his grip on her shoulders was weak.
Tamot met her eyes from Jorgi’s other side and gave the smallest shake of his head. Behind him, Zale was looking at her.
When her eyes met his, he made the tiniest movements with his head, moving it from left to right, before his gaze moved from her, to Jorgi, to the soldiers, and back again.
They would never be able to escape with Jorgi in this condition, Siray realised. And she refused to leave any more of her friends behind.
The soldiers led them up an incline, still weaving through the trees, but when they reached the top of a small, grassy hill, Siray almost stopped in despair at what she saw. Thankfully, with her arm still supporting Jorgi, his and Tamot’s momentum kept her walking forwards, and the guards didn’t notice her pause.
Ahead, the hillside ran steeply down away from them until it met the valley below. It was obvious to Siray that this had once been a beautiful part of the savanna, a perfect example of why her people worshipped this land and the life that thrived on it.
But now, the trees within the valley were being cut down, corrals made, and other Resistance captives were being herded about.
The Faction soldiers ma
rched Siray’s group right up to one of the new empty corrals and ordered them in, giving each of them a healthy shove to speed up the process.
Kovi immediately pulled Genlie to him, wrapping her in his arms, while Kinna, Wexner, and Loce began looking earnestly about them, as if there might be some way to escape unseen from the corral. Meanwhile Baindan and Zale were muttering quietly together.
Siray had helped lower Jorgi to the ground where Tamot was currently tending to him, and she was now standing gazing numbly at her surroundings, separating her mind into parts.
There was the piece of her mind that wanted to be scared, so she locked that up tight, while another portion of her wanted to scream and rage—had been screaming and raging silently ever since she had watched, and felt, Deson die. So she secured that away somewhere deep inside as well.
Which left the colder, more analytical share of her mind free to ponder.
Baindan moved up closer to her, Zale accompanying him. ‘They’ve got this place locked down pretty tight,’ Baindan commented quietly.
She nodded, cleared her hoarse throat, then asked the obvious question. ‘What are they going to do with us?’
Baindan shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen this setup before.’
Siray looked around the cleared area outside of their corral again and felt her brows knit. ‘Why keep us separated?’ she asked.
‘What?’ said Baindan.
Siray’s mind seemed to sharpen as she focused solely on this puzzle. She turned back to him and Zale. ‘Think about it—they could have built one large corral and put everyone they captured into that, but they haven’t. Why? What does it gain them?’
‘I don’t know what advantage it gives them, but I do know that it means that we can’t share information while they hold us here,’ said Zale.
‘Which means we can’t mass together and turn on them,’ Siray guessed. Smart. Mother take them all.
‘Look, here comes another group,’ said Baindan.
Siray turned to look. A new bunch of Resistance captives from the Gonron Facility was being led over the hill towards the corralling area. As they watched, the other captives were brought into the middle of the clearing, then diverted into another corral.
‘The facility is lost,’ she murmured, despairing of any rescue. ‘We’re losing this war, aren’t we?’
‘There are still more fighters out there,’ Baindan said. He spoke quietly but firmly. ‘We might be losing for now, but it doesn’t mean we’ve lost.’
‘I don’t understand how they overcame the facility so quickly,’ Zale whispered.
Siray looked at him, frowning.
‘We had security measures in place for this,’ he continued, elaborating on his first comment. ‘There’s no way the Faction could have avoided all of them to surprise us as they did.’
Baindan snorted. ‘Well, apparently they found a way.’
Siray, however, considered Zale’s words for a moment. Then she said slowly, ‘What if they didn’t have to avoid any security measures?’
Both males stared at her blankly for a moment. Until first Baindan, then Zale, turned grim as they took her meaning.
‘You think someone deactivated the warning systems from the inside?’ Baindan asked.
Siray shrugged. ‘It’s possible. If Mocery could do it, then why couldn’t someone else?’
Zale had pressed his lips together. ‘Not many people have access to the system.’
‘Well, how did Mocery manage to access it?’
‘The same way we did it—through a communications terminal on the healing level,’ Baindan explained.
‘So, someone wouldn’t necessarily have to actually have been granted access to the system, just be able to gain access to one of those terminals,’ she theorised.
Zale nodded. ‘Which leaves a large number of people as suspects.’
Baindan shook his head. ‘This was done by someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who wanted the facility to be taken. It must be a plant.’
Siray narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean a spy?’ The part of her mind that raged grew louder as she considered that Deson’s death had—directly or indirectly—been caused by that person.
‘Spy, saboteur—all of those things.’
‘I don’t know,’ Zale said doubtfully. ‘Everyone gets cleared when they come in. Background checks, interviews, the works. And sometimes we don’t let everyone in. If in doubt, we hold them and they’re collected by people from another Resistance camp.’
‘But,’ said Baindan, frowning, ‘What about—’
‘Look! They captured Captain Huroy!’ Genlie called across to them, still holding Kovi’s hand.
The three of them whirled together to look where Genlie was pointing, while Loce, Wexner, and Kinna moved closer to the edge of the corral.
Tamot didn’t shift from Jorgi’s side.
Siray was particularly interested in seeing Huroy, given the conversation she’d just had with Baindan and Zale. For just a moment, she wondered if Huroy’s ambitions had made him betray everyone under his command.
That thought rapidly evaporated when she saw him.
Unlike most of the Resistance prisoners they had seen so far, Huroy was battered, bloody, and hanging limp from the arms of two Faction guards.
Siray pivoted and moved to another part of the corral fence to see better as the guards dragged Huroy along, the captain’s legs trailing through the grass and dirt.
Instead of placing him in one of the corrals with another group, however, they dragged Huroy to a small wooden platform that had been placed almost in the centre of the clearing, with the corrals ranged around it, and it was to a pole set in the middle of this platform that the guards tied him.
An older male Faction soldier ambled up onto the platform, his uniform like that of the other soldiers around him, bar the armour on one shoulder that was splayed with sharp edges.
Siray assumed from the distinctive armour, his bearing, and the way the other soldiers obeyed his commands that he was someone of importance.
All around the clearing, Resistance prisoners watched grimly.
‘I am Captain Raque,’ announced the Faction male in a loud voice, turning slowly on the spot to eye all the corrals. ‘I will be your master, and mine will be the voice you will obey until you are told otherwise.’
The Faction captain paced on the platform, pivoting his head to scan them all, a pleased and cruel smile on his face.
Then he turned and marched to the centre of the platform, where he continued his address. ‘Our ways will weed out the weak from the strong. The survivors from those who are … unfit to remain.’ He gave them all a nasty smile. ‘Those of you who make it through the training will join us in our glorious fight to free Kaslon from those who have kept us from realising our full potential for so long.’
Siray watched as the captain moved to the side of Huroy’s limp figure and grabbed a chunk of the Gonron leader’s hair to roughly yank his face up for all to see.
‘Your captain chose to fight us instead of surrendering quietly.’
Siray looked at Zale in surprise. She would never have thought that Huroy would risk his life if he had any another option. Not that she forgave him for what he had done, had tried to do, to her and … She shook her head to clear the unspoken name from her thoughts.
Captain Raque was looking at Huroy in distaste. ‘If he had been smarter, your captain would have realised that his only chance at a long life would have been to obey, and join us.’ He released his grip on Huroy, allowing the injured male to sag again. ‘There is no room in our army for those who don’t make smart decisions. There is no room for cowards. We take only the strong, because only the strong can survive in the new world.’
The wooden boards of Huroy’s platform creaked as Raque moved to the edge of the structure and Siray’s breath sounded loud in her ears as she tracked the Faction captain’s movements.
‘And if you’re not strong enough �
�� .’ Raque moved, his hands drawing and raising his sword so quickly that it was just a blur of steel as he whirled and sliced the end of his blade through Huroy’s neck, Raque’s spin ending with him facing back out the same way. There, he froze, while Huroy’s bloody head first tilted, then dropped clean from his neck with a sickening thud onto the platform, after which it rolled across the platform and onto the grass.
Silence from all the corrals. Across the clearing.
The Faction captain stood there, his sword dripping, breathing evenly, while the remainder of the lieutenant’s body trembled, headless, still tied to the post.
‘Then you’ll die,’ Raque finished, a cold and hard smile accompanying his words.
The iron smell of blood was distinctive in Siray’s nose, and she felt the warmth in her own veins drain from her face at what she had just witnessed, leaving her cold. What had happened in the tunnel … that had at least been in the heat of battle. But this … this was butchery.
Meanwhile the captain’s eyes swivelled from the corrals and towards his own soldiers who had listened to his speech silently, some wearing small grins of their own.
‘Prepare them for processing!’ roared the captain.
The guards hurried to obey, and Siray watched as the captain calmly raised his blade again and wiped it clean on his cloak before sheathing it once more at his hip.
***
They were forced to join a queue forming in the centre of the corrals, which grew longer every moment as more and more captives were pushed into the line by Faction guards.
Siray eyed the other Resistance captives in the file ahead and behind her and her friends. Most appeared to be without injury but were obviously experiencing different levels of fatigue and worry. Those who were injured looked to only have minor injuries to the legs, arms, or head, but she couldn’t see anything really debilitating.
As Siray and her friends moved up the line step by step, she saw that one guard had been positioned a couple of paces out from the front of the queue. Standing there, the guard would wave a captive forwards, look them over, then gesture to his left or right.