She struggled to free her arms, reached and hoped she was aiming for the surface.
Her chest exploded with pain as her ribs cracked. The snow broke over her head and she sucked in a grateful, agonizing breath. She’d hit an evergreen tree. She clutched it like her salvation.
A final wave of snow washed over her. And then, all was still.
Revna dug up frantically until she broke through a thin crust of snow. For a moment she couldn’t tell whether she was looking at the sky or at the earth. Everything was gray, and everything hurt. No sign of the fighters. Where was Linné?
Hypothermia. Suffocation. Head injury. All the ways in which Linné could be dead or close to it. Revna had to find her.
Pain hammered against her when she tried to push herself up. She could add ribs to the growing list of her physical injuries. Revna gritted her teeth. Time to think of the problems. She wasn’t unconscious and she wasn’t vomiting. It couldn’t be that bad. She could move, or she could die.
“Linné,” she wheezed. She tried to draw in breath to shout. The corners of her vision turned black.
Far away, she heard the roar of a plane. But the mountain was silent. It was pointless.
No, not pointless. It couldn’t be pointless. Linné had refused to leave her behind. Now it was Revna’s turn. She wasn’t a curse. She’d used the Weave on people before, and Linné wasn’t just anyone. They had been connected by metal and magic, by faith and loyalty.
She closed her eyes. Her torso throbbed every time she inhaled. She focused on the silence around her, trying to find peace in it rather than fear. The erratic pulsing of her heart settled into a rhythm.
She touched the Weave with cracking fingers. She didn’t have time to think about the agony she felt every time she plucked a string. If it was the last Weave magic she ever did, it would be enough. Linné. Night Raider. Fighter. Comrade. Maybe friend. She sifted through the Weave, picking apart the strands that made up the world, searching for her one lost thread.
She thought of their plane. Linné’s white-knuckled grip and spark streaming across the sky.
She thought of Linné clutching her in the air, falling from the wreckage, staring down at the world on fire. We’re flying.
She felt—not heat, but some kind of warmth all the same. Something she recognized. She knew the way Linné moved, the way she breathed.
The Weave cut at her and she tore off her gloves, forcing her hands to obey, biting her lip until teeth went through skin. Her whole body convulsed as she shivered. But shivering was good. Shivering meant her body was fighting for her. Her fingers curled around the Weave’s invisible threads and she pulled on them, one by one, tugging Linné’s body from the snow.
Nothing changed in the white expanse. Revna tried to swallow her panic. It wouldn’t help Linné if she lost all sense. It wouldn’t help her. “Come on,” she whispered. She knew Linné’s body was on the other end of the line, but it resisted her. Like Linné always did.
If only she hadn’t been so stubborn. If only she’d gone ahead when Revna told her to.
Well, Linné wasn’t going to ruin Revna’s final moments by making her feel guilty. “Screw you sideways,” she breathed, and the flush that came with it gave her strength to heave again.
She felt the snow shift before she saw it. For an instant she was numbingly cold, too cold to think, surrounded by white.
She cajoled the Weave around her into a cradle, pushing the threads this way and that as they tried to escape. Then she bundled them all in one hand and yanked. The muscles in her arms screamed. Her palms oozed. She set her teeth, braced her back against the tree, and tried again.
Snow puffed up as Linné’s limp body emerged from the mountainside. She lay only a couple hundred meters away. Revna could get to her. She had to. But the snow was a vicious opponent to her infected hands and prosthetic legs. And she didn’t know what had happened to her chest, but she knew crawling would be agony.
She wasn’t going to lose this one. She could win against her allies; she could win against her enemies. And now that it had dumped an avalanche on her, she’d compete with nature, too.
One more thing, she promised her arms. She felt them tremble as she took hold of a strand. Her body came a bare inch off the ground. But an inch was enough.
Her broken prosthetic scraped over the snow. Revna caught it on the edge of a stone and lost her grip. Invisible knives drove into her hands and phantom feet. She kept trying. She pulled, pulled without thinking, pulled until her body came free again. Eternity passed. Black spots popped in and out of her vision. But she was still shivering. Shivering was good. And finally her body was next to Linné’s.
Linné’s face was terribly cold. Snow had gotten into her jacket and gloves, and probably into her boots as well. A nasty bruise was forming in the space around one eye socket, and her cheek was scraped raw.
Revna put her ear against Linné’s mouth. A faint breath tickled her cheek. Linné was still alive. For now.
She sat in the snow next to Linné. The whole world was blank, like the entrance to some underworld, some dream. Of her broken prosthetic, only the tattered calf was left. The shivering was beginning to subside, but her exhaustion made it difficult for her to care. Maybe she should lie down and sleep. She’d known she wouldn’t make it over the mountains, after all.
She couldn’t sleep yet. There was something she had to do. Linné needed her. Linné wasn’t going to ruin her death by dying, too. Revna’s fingers fumbled with Linné’s belt, where the flare gun was strapped to her hip. She managed to tear the flap open on her third try.
The cold metal of the grip burned her palms. She pointed the barrel toward the gray sky. Maybe they’d see it in Intelgard. Maybe not. She had to wrap two fingers around the trigger to fire.
A bright ball of red burst from the gun. The flare sailed up, turning the heavens the color of the Union flag. If they died, they’d die in the homeland.
She pulled Linné close, propping Linné’s freezing forehead against her neck. “I’m glad it was you,” Revna mumbled, even though speaking was the worst, even though she knew Linné couldn’t hear.
Something wet pooled and froze on her face. Tears? Blood? Revna touched it gingerly before tucking her hands into Linné’s pockets. What did it matter?
She tried to think of her family, of the good times from before her father had been taken. She tried to think of the girls, dancing to the radio in the mess.
Linné’s head shifted, just barely.
“Look.” Revna’s voice came out as a bare whisper. Snow fell on her upturned face like ash. “The storm broke.”
Footsteps crunched over the snow. A man. “Who is it?” a strange voice called.
“It’s her.” The man bent down over Revna and began to excavate Linné from her grasp.
“Alive?” asked the first man.
“Get the blankets.”
Revna couldn’t even scream when they lifted her into a palanquin next to Linné. Someone began to remove her jacket. She pushed at him with her frozen hands. She needed it.
“Stop it,” he snapped. Tannov, the friendly Skarov. The one who’d danced with her, then told Linné about her father. He stripped her methodically, taking her jacket, pulling off her prosthetics and her trousers, and then piled blankets on top of her and Linné both. Then he disappeared. A few moments later an enormous cat hopped up onto the palanquin bed, radiating heat. It settled over Linné’s chest.
The man up front barked an order, and the palanquin began to pick its way down the mountainside, talons chipping into the ice. Every time it jostled, Revna wanted to scream.
She wondered how much she’d lose this time. She tried to feel the ends of her legs. But she couldn’t fight through the blankets. She gave up and brushed one finger against Linné’s arm. She was still there. She’d be all right.
The cat lowered its head onto Linné’s belly. Revna could have sworn it was purring.
21
LIES
ARE THE ENEMY OF THE UNION
Linné recognized the stale smell of disinfectant before she opened her eyes. For a moment all she cared about was the warmth, the softness of a real mattress under her and real sheets around her. And if she didn’t open her eyes, she didn’t have to think about what was wrong with her.
But she’d never been good at avoiding her problems.
She moved her feet—still had those. And they didn’t hurt too badly, for all she felt as if she’d been run over by a war beetle.
They’d been going up the mountain. Revna was with her. But then—
Revna. Where was she? And if she was here, where was here?
Linné pulled on the thin curtains around her bed and got the answers to both her questions. Revna lay in a bed next to her, pale as a wraith but still breathing. The flag of the Union hung on the cheap board walls behind her. They were in home territory.
The door opened and the nurse came in. She smiled when she saw that Linné was awake. Linné wasn’t sure how she felt about that. People didn’t smile at her.
“Welcome home,” the nurse said. “The girls went mad when they saw you.”
They’d made it to Intelgard. Only—the others had been happy to see her?
Linné coughed. The nurse brought her a glass of water and tilted her head up to help her drink.
“You’ve been through quite a lot. How are you feeling?”
“I have to report to Commander Zima,” Linné said.
The nurse bobbed her head, as though she heard this all the time. “I’ve been keeping her updated on your status. I’m sure she’ll be happy to know you’re awake.”
“It’s about the mission,” Linné said. Her head pounded. “Please.”
“Perhaps you’d like some dinner?” the nurse suggested.
“I’d like to talk to the commander.” Her stomach rumbled. Traitor.
The nurse checked on Revna’s bandaged hands, clicking her tongue at what she saw. She drew the curtain around Revna’s bed, then turned. “I’ll get you food. And your commander,” she added before Linné could complain.
Food. Real food. Better than boiled oats with no salt and bits of venison that tasted like tree bark. Linné imagined caribou steak and crispy fried cabbage with bacon and tea with sugar beet rum.
The nurse came back with beef soup. It wasn’t the stuff of Linné’s dreams but was still better than the oats. The nurse helped her sit up, and Linné spooned down mushy onions and barley with an eagerness she’d never felt for army cooking before. For an instant, this was a perfect life—soft bed, warm food. Safe friends.
Tamara came in as she scraped her bowl clean. “Welcome home.” She was smiling, but the deep rings under her eyes spoke of long nights, and the upturn to her mouth seemed forced.
Linné put the empty bowl aside. “We found it.”
Tamara leaned forward. “Tell me.”
She described the Serpent, and Tamara fetched a map so Linné could point to where they’d crashed. For a few minutes, Tamara’s forced cheer was replaced with an intense concentration as she traced the path of the Ava River, calculating current and ice flow. “We’ll have to tell the colonel and the Information Unit immediately. If we act fast…” Her frown was back.
Even if they sent a salvage team right away, Linné wasn’t sure what they’d find. She remembered the heat of fire, the kiss of snow. How long had she been asleep? And if the salvage team found nothing, what would that mean for an interrogation?
“If you’re finished with your very important debriefings, it’s time for Miss Zolonova to rest,” the nurse said. She nodded to the door.
Tamara opened her mouth to object. She seemed to change her mind under the steely eye of the nurse. “We’ll write a full report in a couple of days.” She leaned forward to pat Linné’s arm. Linné tried not to wince as she hit a bruise. “Well done, Zolonov.”
“How’s Revna?” Linné asked as soon as Tamara had gone.
The nurse looked over at the curtain. She forced her lips into a smile much less genuine than when she’d seen Linné. “She’ll be fine. She needs a little more rest.”
No one had ever called Linné skilled with people, but that might’ve been the worst lie she’d ever heard. Linné settled back against her pillow. She tried to tell herself that it was the food that nauseated her, not the drawn curtain next to her.
She slept again; she ate again; she managed to sit up on her own again. Revna slept through everything, even the pilot with the broken leg, who was brought in howling the next morning. Listening to his short scream as they set the bone made Linné’s skin crawl.
“When can I leave?” she said when the nurse came in to check on them.
“Don’t even think about it,” the nurse said. “You need your rest. We’ll see how you’re doing in a few days.”
A few days? Where did she think they were, a general’s estate? If Linné couldn’t be in the air, she could be doing something. Packing crates or loading bombs. But the nurse would hear nothing of it. She bustled out to tend to the broken-legged pilot. Through the thin walls, Linné heard her say, “Sorry, dear. You can’t go in. They need their rest.”
A moment later Magdalena slid into the room. They stared at each other—Linné from the bed, Magdalena from the door. Magdalena’s uniform was rumpled, as if she’d gone to bed in it. Her eyes had the wild look of someone who hadn’t slept.
“I’m glad to be back,” Linné said pointedly.
Magdalena turned red. “Sorry. I didn’t realize—” Her uniform was stained with oil, and her eyes were hopeful as they flicked to Revna’s bed. The hope dimmed at the sight of the pale girl, sleeping. For a moment Linné thought Magdalena might try to act as if all their animosity had never happened, but she took a deep breath and said, “I guess I should go.”
“It’s okay,” Linné said. Revna would want Magdalena to stay.
She expected Magdalena to make some excuse and abandon her anyway. Instead, Magdalena approached and sat awkwardly in the chair between her bed and Revna’s. “How are you feeling?”
Why do you care? Linné wanted to ask. But they were all here for Revna’s sake, and that she could understand. “Like I fell off a mountain. Which I figure is kind of what happened.”
“You figure?”
Linné had never been able to do small talk, and Magdalena didn’t want to hear it. So she didn’t try. She began to tell the story as if she were reporting to Tamara again, but soon she found herself getting derailed as Magdalena interrupted her with questions.
At first it irritated her to jump back and forth. She had to keep reminding herself of Revna. Revna had saved her, so Revna should wake up to find that her navigator had managed to be civil with her unit. After a while she realized that Magdalena listened because she wanted to, not because she had to, and things became a little easier after that.
When Linné got to their ascent of the mountain, silence caught up with her. She hesitated.
“What happened then?” Magdalena prompted her.
Linné’s mind faced a blank wall. “I’m not sure,” she said. She remembered fire and the rumble of the mountain. She remembered Revna handing back the gun; she remembered wanting to cry with relief and fear.
“So you don’t remember how you got here?”
She looked over at Revna. “I remember being cold.”
“I wish I’d been there,” Magdalena said softly.
Linné didn’t reply. She doubted anyone would truly want to hike through the taiga for two days in the early winter.
Magdalena’s cheeks colored as she looked at Linné, and she set her jaw defiantly. “I mean it,” she said. “I’d still fly with her. I’d always fly with her.”
“You’d have to fight me for the privilege.” Her chapped lips cracked as a smile tried to pull at one corner of her mouth. Revna would be proud. They’d finally found common ground.
Magdalena’s eyes glistened. Please don’t cry, Linné thought. The rest of it she could d
eal with, but not that. Magdalena didn’t cry, though. “I—I’m glad you’re back,” she said to the floor.
Linné didn’t care what she thought. She never had. But this was a different kind of not caring. Before, she’d wanted to prove everyone wrong. She wasn’t angry anymore. She didn’t mind. And if Magdalena wanted to offer peace, the least she could do was take it.
The nurse’s muffled voice came through the thin wall. “She hasn’t fully recovered. The commander’s visit was a special allowance, so official business or no—”
The door opened. The nurse froze at the sight of Magdalena, who was trying her best to pretend she’d wandered in by accident. The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” she said. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do.” She took a clipboard and pencil from a gloved hand and signed with an angry flourish.
Tannov leaned around the door frame. His silver coat was buttoned all the way up to his throat, showing off his blue star. Magdalena went stiff and gripped the edge of Linné’s bed. Linné couldn’t help glancing at Revna. Stay asleep, she begged silently.
“You look cheerful.” Something about his carefree tone felt flat. Maybe Magdalena didn’t see it, but Linné knew him. “I don’t think you’ve made friends with the nurse,” he said.
“With any luck I won’t see her for the rest of the war,” Linné managed.
His easy smile widened. “Fortune is with you. She’s signed your discharge papers so that you can take a walk with me.”
“Where to?”
He shrugged. “Wherever the day may take us.”
She tried to wipe her sweaty palms on the sheet without drawing his attention to them. “I’d rather stay where it’s warm.”
“I can arrange somewhere warm,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
She’d have flushed at the suggestion before. She’d have told him to go screw himself. But it wasn’t funny. Revna’s leg was ruined and she slept and slept, and Linné couldn’t convince herself that she’d wake up again. “My comrades have died. If you’d like to pay your respects, you may join us. Be an ass somewhere else.”
We Rule the Night Page 29