by Ryan Muree
He nodded.
“And if we come back out here with some kids, looking like we’re in a hurry, it’s best you don’t ask questions.”
His face fell. “Urla…”
“Thanks again!” She waved him off.
They darted inside, down halls, and past offices that had been converted to rooms for sleeping.
“What are we looking for?” Kylah asked.
Grier turned to Dova. “Now’s your chance. Start casting and figuring this out.”
Dova held her hands out like she was feeling the air, leading them down two flights of stairs in the stockroom and down a narrow hallway. She moved faster. “There’s something…”
They ended in a room that looked like it might have been an office or a storeroom. It was completely empty.
“Is this a joke?” Urla asked.
“No, I can feel something,” Dova defended. “It’s not Casters either. I think… I can feel Scribes.”
Urla looked back at Grier.
He shrugged and palmed the solid brick wall in several places. Nothing moved. Nothing looked out of place.
“There’s nothing here.” Kylah checked the other walls for anything off.
“Remember Mykel’s wall in Pigyll?” Grier turned to Urla.
“He’d made the new wall over the existing one, so it looked seamless.”
“And if you wanted to keep people out, and you had time to do it…”
“Then,” Urla said, “you could make it more permanent.”
Grier pulled up his jacket sleeve, turned over his bracer, and stroked his thumb down his arm. His translucent grimoire flourished to life. He flipped through the pages for his war hammer and materialized it from inky ether into a formidable great weapon. He adjusted his grip, pulled it back, and swung it into the wall.
Brick and mortar crumbled into a pile of pebbles and dust on the ground, and a hand-sized hole was left in its place.
Grier bent over and peered through it. It was pitch black with a pinpoint of light at the end.
“More wall?” Lawrence asked.
“No, there’s a light.” Grier straightened and prepared another swing. “There’s something at the end of it.”
It took five more hits to break enough of the wall for them to be able to crawl through it.
He crushed the war hammer in his grip, and it evaporated into ether.
The ground beyond the wall was dirt and pebble. The walls were, too. Whoever made this tunnel hadn’t meant for it to be used often. An escape tunnel? A transport route?
They found a lit lamp at the end of the turn, and Grier looked around the end. There was another door, but no latch.
He opened it and poked his head through.
An entire underground system had been made with halls and rooms. Piping ran over their heads, probably for water or waste, and there were trickling noises somewhere deeper.
“This is how the REV moved around,” Urla whispered, peering around his shoulder. “This is how they moved from city to city.”
“So, these systems are everywhere? Under all of Revel?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Possibly.”
Grier waved Dova to come up and look around with him. “Take the lead.”
She held her hands up and meandered down the halls as they followed.
Voices echoed up a side corridor, and Grier pulled Dova back.
Urla peered out. “There are guards at a big door. We can’t get past them without taking them out.”
“But we’re not here to kill anyone,” Dova said.
Urla looked unimpressed. “Grier, what do you want to do?”
He looked over at Lawrence. He could use him as bait. “Lawrence, I need you to look like a Scribe. Can I try something?”
Lawrence nodded, pulled out some of his folded pleats, and yanked off his waistband. A few adjustments later, and he nearly looked the part.
“Do you trust me?” he asked Lawrence.
The older man nodded.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” Grier added.
“I am a Caster, Grier. I can defend myself if I have to.”
Grier pulled his jacket over his bracer, took Lawrence’s hands behind his back, and pushed him out in front of the two men guarding the door.
“Whoa!” the smaller one with a square jaw said. A small RCA medal gleamed on his chest instead of the usual patch at his shoulder. “What is this shit?”
The larger guard lifted his hands, revealing deep red-brown sigils on his wrist as a warning. He was either fire or beast, and either way, Grier wanted to avoid it.
“Got one of those new Scribes Silver warned us about,” Grier lied. “Lemme bring him in.”
Lawrence let him shove him forward roughly.
The Caster with the square jaw lifted his hands in defense, but his long uniform sleeve was blocking the color of his sigils. “We didn’t hear about this, and you’re supposed to bring him to intake first. I have no tag, no nothing—” His voice gurgled, and blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth before he fell to the floor with a knife in the back of his throat.
Before the bigger one could move or shout for help, a red pool of blood spilled from his mouth, too, and he toppled over near the other.
Urla stood behind them. “There.”
Kylah smiled her approval. “Burst?”
Urla nodded with a grin.
“Nice. I’ve always wondered what the actual speed is on that. Light? Sound?”
“Speed of thought,” Urla said.
“What in the—” Dova gripped her chest, panting like she’d run a sprint. “How can you just stand there after you just—? We weren’t supposed to kill them!”
Urla pointed at Grier. “You’re a terrible actor.”
“They-they were part of the RCA…” Dova’s eyes were wide and hyper-focused on the dead bodies.
“I was part of the RCA,” Urla cut, stepping over them to Dova. “These men are not RCA. The old RCA died when they sold out their own soldiers and slaughtered tons of people in Ingini for no reason.”
Dova’s mouth clamped shut.
“Now,” Urla continued, “can you sense any Scribes or not?”
Dova nodded and pointed at the door the men had been guarding.
Kylah was already working the latch. “Got it.”
They slowly opened the round and metal vault door and gazed down a long, narrow hallway with curved walls. Better lit than the rest of the underground den, it had ether-lamps dangling from the ceiling every few feet. More metal doors lined the sides and a set of double-metal doors waited at the end.
Grier stepped first into the hall as softly as possible. Gritty cement crunched under his feet.
Back against the left wall, he motioned the others to do the same.
As quietly and as slowly as he could, he approached the first door. It was solid gray metal with only a rectangular slot for food trays. A similarly shaped glass window piece was above it.
He looked through.
Inside the dark cell, a young, skinny girl lay on a cot. Her long tunic dress was dirty. Her dark, wavy hair had become matted and stringy. She was perfectly still with her arms to her side and was staring up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes. All around her were torn pieces of ratty paper and broken quills. Something told him the room hadn’t come that messy, but that she’d done it in defiance. Grier couldn’t be sure, of course, but the feeling overwhelmed him.
Grier steadied his hurried heart and heavy breaths.
It was exactly as he’d feared. This did not look like protection. She was malnourished and neglected.
He edged his way to the next cell and looked inside.
A young boy just as dirty, just as thin, just as lost and broken in his expression, sat staring at one of his dark walls.
In the next cell, a teen ran his hands over the bumps in the wall at the corner of his room.
In the next, a girl lay flat on the ground with her red hair fanned out around her head.
Her palms and fingers were splayed out against the concrete beside her and were stained black with ink. She wore a black, inky smile aimed at the ceiling. The busted quills around her feet had been gnawed apart.
Small gasps echoed behind him, and he turned.
Lawrence’s eyebrows were drawn in together as he looked into one of the cells. Dova’s hand was at her mouth, tears ready to spill over. Urla was bright red and seemed ready to bust through all of the doors if possible. Kylah looked ready to act, too, with her bracer arm up and ready to manifest a weapon.
“Protection?” he whispered down the hall. “Does this look like Orr protecting them?”
Dova shook her head. “This isn’t right. I didn’t know… What do we do? How—”
“Avrist did this,” he whispered loudly. “Avrist helped Orr hunt them down. You’re going to help set them free.”
Urla pushed past Dova and put her shoulder against Grier’s. “How are we doing this? What’s your plan?”
He hadn’t figured that part out yet. He hadn’t anticipated them being locked up in individual cells. Quickly counting down the hall there were fourteen in total. “Fourteen cells. Fourteen kids.”
Urla rubbed her hands together. “You can break through the locks, right?”
He nodded. “Kylah and I could easily do it, but it would be loud.”
Lawrence approached their huddle as the others circled in.
Urla pointed to him. “We can keep them off, can’t we?”
Lawrence nodded. “Absolutely.”
“There’s one missing.” Kylah pointed to the cell across the way. “There’s a kid missing from that cell.”
“Are you sure?” Grier asked.
She nodded.
Dova pointed to the double doors at the end of the hall. “There’s more that way. I can feel the ether coming from there.”
Shit.
He lifted his bracer and willed his shield to life, as Kylah followed in step on the opposite side of the door from him. She, too, willed her shield into reality.
Together, they looked through the two thin glass windows in the doors.
It was a dark room, not a cell. There was a chair with straps and belts, and a boy was restrained in it. His mouth was stretched as if mid-scream. His head was strapped back and up. His eyes were pulled open by a machine with tiny finger-things. His arms and legs trembled violently, and in his hand was a quill scratching against m’ralli paper.
Three RCA members stood around him as the boy was forced to scribe. Except it wasn’t scribing. The boy seemed to be fighting it, or the ether was fighting it, because what had come out of his quill wasn’t the beautiful scrollwork and symbols Grier had seen Emeryss do a million times. This was jagged, hate-filled, and crude. It wasn’t a dance or art. It was fury and monstrous—a nightmare on paper.
Kylah cursed under her breath, and he swallowed.
“Grier,” Urla whispered. She was pointing at the wall beside him where a dashboard, similar to the ones they’d found in Ingini, sat on with a red light. Wiggling her fingers, she gestured to the little box and all the doors. “I think I can just blow all these open,” she whispered.
But that would definitely start a fight, and if there were more RCA in this underground network, they’d be on top of them in seconds. Not only would it be dangerous for them, but it would put the children at risk.
“You two get these cells open as quietly as possible,” he said. “Get the kids out and together. Urla can cover me, and Lawrence can at least get you all back in the air and safe.”
“What about you?” Kylah asked.
He looked back through the window at the strapped boy. “I’m going to get him out.”
“There are three in there that we can see,” she whispered. “You’d have to kill all of them and get him out before they alert anyone else. You won’t be able to do it fast enough. Let me help.”
Her help would make things easier, and getting everyone out safely was more important. He nodded his approval.
Urla walked to the end of the hall and let ether run through her fingertips into the doors. It traveled down the length of the hallway, sparking metal and burning cement. Seven locks popped with a definite click.
“Shh,” Urla said to the first child as she opened their door. “We’re here to rescue you, but we have to be very quiet…”
Grier turned back to the double doors.
“We won’t be able to be as quiet,” Kylah whispered.
“Then we better not screw up.” He materialized his swordstaff, jammed it into the panel on the wall, and pushed through the door with his shoulder.
The three RCA members spun for them.
The closest two hadn’t reacted fast enough and got the broad side of their shields in their faces, knocking them out simultaneously. Blood spurted from their noses and split lips.
The third lifted his hands defensively, revealing water sigils on his wrists just as a clear orb formed in his palm.
Kylah leaped around him, raising a solid metal rod at him and blocking the cast with her shield.
Several more RCA filtered down some stairs on the left.
“Get him out!” he ordered to Kylah.
Shield up, he swung and thrust his swordstaff at each attacker.
Fireballs. Ice spikes. Even an air slice or two.
A purple orb flew past his head, but he’d sidestepped it, lodged the sword end of his weapon through the chest of one RCA member and tossed another with a brutish slam from his shield.
“We’re here to get you out,” Kylah said in hurried breaths to the boy. “See? I have a bracer. I’m a Keeper. Keepers protect Scribes, right?”
A large black cat pounced at Grier, knocking him to his backside and clawing at his face.
He kicked upwards, flipping the cat behind him.
The cat went for the boy and Kylah still undoing all of his straps.
But Grier was up, gripping the tail of the cat and yanking it toward him.
The tail dissolved in his grasp. Feathers replaced fur. Talons and a hook-nosed beak came for his face.
Grier ducked and blocked with his shield, and finally managed to stab the giant bird in the chest.
It collapsed in a heap, shifting into a middle-aged woman in an RCA uniform.
“Got him!” Kylah said, lifting the boy into her arms.
Shouts rang through the walls behind the room as more filtered in to find them.
“Move, Grier!” Kylah shouted at him.
He followed behind her, out through the doors and down the hall.
All of the cells were open and empty, and Urla was waving them on at the end.
They sprinted for her, but they were barely moving.
“What is this?” Kylah grunted.
An RCA Caster behind them had strings of purple ether from his fingers to their legs. It was like a gravity field pulling them closer.
He had them, and more were coming.
Speed of thought.
He pressed his thumb to his finger with the scarred sigil, and his heart thundered.
These kids had to get out. They had to be saved.
I am a burst of energy. I am ether. We are already at the end of the hallway.
Everyone was in slow motion, except Grier.
The pull of gravity created by the Caster was weaker, the sounds were muffled, and eventually, everyone else looked to be nearly frozen in time.
He reached for Kylah and the boy and ran to the end in what felt like a normal speed.
Sounds came rushing back, others were moving increasingly faster.
He was losing his grip on the cast. His feet were missing step with reality. He tripped with them in his arms and crashed onto the ground just on the other side of Urla and a cluster of kids.
Sounds had returned in full. Things moved normally again. Urla and Lawrence slammed the vault door shut behind him.
He heaved through his racing heart.
“Grier, did you just do what I think you d
id?” Kylah panted at him, helping the boy stand.
He swallowed, still trying to catch his breath and wrap his head around what he’d done. “We have to go.”
Chapter 16
Revel
Clove panted against Jahree’s bare chest.
Spent, satisfied, relieved… There was something about sex with Jahree that made the stresses of the world fall away and feel trivial.
He helped her forget.
He helped her escape.
He planted a few kisses on her neck, on her collar bone, on her chest, and she moaned against him. “Mack will be back soon.”
“So?”
She snickered. “Yeah, that’ll go over well.”
She was already straddling his lap, but he drew her hips closer, urging her for another round.
“He already knows,” he mumbled against her skin, lighting tiny fires of excitement wherever he licked.
“I’m not sure about that,” she breathed. “Besides, I may need to pull the brakes on you a little.” She teasingly pushed him away, and he pretended to grumble before laughing and pulling her chest back against his. “You got a little jealous over that hug with Mack.”
He nipped at her skin. “I did no such thing.”
She scoffed. “You did. I saw it in your face.”
“It was pity.”
“Pity?”
“Mm-hmm.” His hands roved over her backside, lifting and pulling her closer.
But Mack really would be back any moment. He’d just gone to the river to fish out some breakfast, and as much as it wasn’t Mack’s business what she did, she wasn’t interested in rubbing it in his face. He was still like family. He was still helping her find Cayn, and she still wanted to keep him safe.
He mattered, and letting him catch them in the act wasn’t just rude. It would devastate him, and it wasn’t necessary.
He’d already lost about everything else in his life. She couldn’t lose him, too, over something so stupid.
Jahree kissed her shoulders. “I’m not going to lie. You are possibly the best woman I’ve ever met—”
“Ugh…” She rolled her eyes and pushed him away.