by Reese Hogan
“We have to get off this island! Now!”
That was Andrew’s voice, shrill and panicked. Klara Yana stepped over Blackwood and jogged forward. She stuck close by the jagged dekatite wall, clutching her arphanium in her non-marked hand. As she neared the soldiers, a tremor rocked the whole walkway beneath her. She threw her arms out for balance. The sound of grating rocks sounded from above the tunnel somewhere. Klara Yana looked back, terrified, but she could still make out Blackwood’s body. No rubble had fallen back there.
The men ahead were yelling frantically, but Klara Yana could still make out Andrew’s hysterical voice over them.
“Because this volcano is unstable, and Mila, and the monster, the darkness, we have to go, we have to go now–”
Klara Yana broke into a run, shoving through the Dhavnak soldiers now with reckless abandon. I should have brought Blackwood somewhere else. I shouldn’t have even attempted this. But the CSO would never forgive her if she left her little brother in Cu Zanthus’s hands.
Forgiveness? Is that what I’m looking for? But what else was there? Her ama was dead. The leuftkernel was dead. Her partner wanted her dead. She had nothing.
Nothing.
Something uncomfortably close to a sob caught in her throat. She shoved the despair back brutally. By all the gods, figure it out later!
She finally spotted Andrew’s dark form in front of the bulbous submarine, his eyes darting from soldier to soldier in desperation. None of them seemed to be listening to him. Cu Zanthus was nowhere in sight.
Klara Yana raced toward Andrew. She should be able to grab him, flash back to Blackwood’s side with the arphanium, then get the three of them off the island before it blew. It would mean leaving Blackwood alone and paralyzed on the dock with her enemies, but only for the split-second Klara Yana was in the shrouding realm…
Andrew’s gaze fell on her and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth. Klara Yana reached out for him. But just before she touched his jacket, an arm wrapped around her neck from behind, yanking her momentum to a jarring halt. She gasped as her left arm was suddenly wrenched up behind her back. Cu Zanthus’s voice spoke in her ear.
“Nice of you to show up, Keiller Yano. I almost thought we’d have to leave without you.”
Her left hand instinctively curled inward, toward that dekatite mark in her palm. But it was no good. That was the hand Cu Zanthus held, and the arphanium was still in the other one. It might as well have been miles away. Cu Zanthus pushed her hand higher up her spine. She moaned through her teeth at the sudden spike of pain in her shoulder.
“What did you do with the leuftkernel?” Cu Zanthus said in a hard voice.
“He’s gone,” she ground out.
“You Vo Hina-cursed bastard! You killed him?”
Klara Yana’s free hand went to her waist. No gun. Gods, she was caught in the same situation all over again. And Blackwood was as helpless as–
“Let Holland go!”
Klara Yana’s head shot up in time to see Andrew Blackwood stumbling back. His hands were wrapped around the grip of the sidearm he’d yanked from Cu Zanthus’s hip holster. He pointed the gun at Cu Zanthus.
“What did you say?” her partner said incredulously.
“Holland’s the only one who can help Mila!” Andrew said, his breath coming short.
“Help Mila? But–”
The ground shook again, harder than before, and several soldiers screamed and went down. A gust of wind, stinking of sulfur, blasted against them from deep inside the submarine pen. The strong breeze was uncomfortably hot. Klara Yana tried to jerk free from Cu Zanthus when she felt his sudden unsteadiness, but his arm tightened around her throat until she struggled to breathe.
Andrew was still yelling. She didn’t know if he’d ever stopped. “You promised you wouldn’t let her die! You promised! But she’s still on that submarine with that monster and this volcano’s gonna blow, and unless Holland helps her–”
“Primer Trimesseni! Take the gun!” Cu Zanthus snapped.
One of the soldiers lunged toward Andrew, but Andrew danced backward out of his grasp. The pistol barrel whipped wildly from Cu Zanthus to Trimesseni and back.
“If she’s dead, I’ll never forgive you!” he said. “Never!”
“I didn’t take her away from you!” Cu Zanthus growled. “You did that to yourself, Andrew!”
Andrew took another step back, the gun shaking in his hands. “Because I thought you loved me, Cu Zanthus! But that was exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? You saw I was young and dumb and I’d fall for anything! And you were right! And now… and now you…”
Klara Yana’s breath caught. He’d mentioned their relationship, right in front of all these Dhavnak soldiers. Klara Yana was sure Cu Zanthus would drop her and kill Andrew with his own hands, right then and there.
But he didn’t. He just let out a long, slow breath. This close to her ear, she could hear how uneven that breath was.
“Trimesseni,” he repeated, his voice rough.
Once more, the young soldier stepped forward. Andrew started to swing the gun toward him again, but the soldier moved faster this time. Andrew cried out as he yanked it from his hands. His red-rimmed eyes stayed locked on Cu Zanthus’s as another soldier grabbed his elbow from behind. He seemed to have finally run out of words. He didn’t resist as they shoved him up the ramp toward the waiting submarine.
Klara Yana’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected Andrew to save her, necessarily, but she’d been hoping Cu Zanthus would slip up enough to give her an out. But he hadn’t. And now she had to choose between leaving Blackwood paralyzed on the side of this active volcano or giving up her location so she’d be taken prisoner along with her. After everything we’ve gone through, I have to betray her after all.
Unless…
What is a spy’s greatest weapon? The same one that had kept Lyanirus from beating her to death on the floor of that theater. Information. She knew – she was positive now – that Andrew Blackwood had been more than just a job to Cu Zanthus. She had heard it in that ragged sigh before he’d disarmed Andrew. Use that.
She pitched her voice just loud enough to reach Cu Zanthus’s ear alone. “Call off your men. Or I’ll tell Andrew that you killed his parents.”
For several moments, she thought Cu Zanthus hadn’t heard her. But then he finally answered, his voice low and furious.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I’m a spy,” she said evenly.
“That was classified intel!”
“Tell Andrew that.”
“I should never have–” he said, but Klara Yana drew in a deep breath and shouted out before he could finish.
“Andrew!”
The boy looked up from the deck of the submarine, his eyes wide and terrified.
“Cu Zanthus ki–” she began.
Cu Zanthus dropped her arms and shoved her away, so hard that she sprawled to the concrete dock. He yelled loud enough to drown out her voice.
“Let the boy go! Now!”
“Sir?”
“I said release him!”
The soldier holding him cast a doubtful look between her and his commanding officer, but he obeyed. After one last glance over his shoulder, Andrew ran back toward the access ramp. Klara Yana pushed herself to her feet, but clamped her arphanium pipe between the fingers of her left hand this time, so she could easily curl them in and touch it to her mark if she needed to.
But Cu Zanthus made no move to recapture her. He just glared at her hatefully.
“How could you betray your country like this?” he bit out. “By Shon Aha’s mercy, how?”
“You killed Ambassador Talgeron,” Klara Yana answered shortly. “Your own countrywoman.”
“The ambassador?” he said with a sneer. “She was a traitor, too!”
“She was my ama,” said Klara Yana.
“Your ama? But Talgeron didn’t have a son! She had a…” He trailed off. The color drained from his fa
ce as he studied her. “Living gods,” he whispered.
“My ama started something,” said Klara Yana. “With her women’s movements, and her involvement of the other countries. She started something this world badly needs more than any war. So I will be back. Not because I’m a traitor to our country. But because Dhavnakir belongs to all of us, and it’s time we started treating it that way.”
Cu Zanthus’s jaw set. “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he said, “but a traitor is a traitor. You killed your CO. You lied to your partner. You made me an accomplice when I stood up for you. These are things I can’t forgive. Not ever.”
She started to say that she wasn’t the one who needed his forgiveness… but something kept the words locked behind her teeth. For the past two cycles, Cu Zanthus had been her partner and her friend. She’d gone through stretches where she’d considered him her only friend. But he’d killed her ama before they ever met. She’d never known the man he really was. And he hadn’t known the first thing about her. She wondered if there was a part of him that felt as betrayed by that as she did.
She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Andrew at her side, breathing hard. His eyes were pinned warily on Cu Zanthus. Cu Zanthus finally tore his gaze from her face and turned toward Andrew. He half-raised a hand toward Andrew’s face, where a red mark was barely visible. Andrew flinched.
“Don’t,” he said tightly.
“Andy,” Cu Zanthus said. “I never–”
There was another tremor, the biggest one yet. Klara Yana lost her balance, and hit the concrete dock with a force that sent every injury in her body screaming in pain. She gasped, relieved to see that she somehow still clutched her shard of arphanium. When she looked up, she saw Cu Zanthus pulling Andrew to his feet. Her partner held the boy’s hand for just a second, and the way he looked at him made him appear younger and more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him before. He said something too soft for her to hear over the rumbling of the mountain before letting go of Andrew’s hand and turning away. He strode toward the submarine without looking back.
“Load up!” he yelled to his men. “We’re leaving!”
Andrew turned to Klara Yana, swallowing. “Mila?” was all he said.
“She’s alive,” said Klara Yana. “Follow me!”
Chapter 26
BLACKWOOD’S NEW ALLIANCES
“Deckman Holland,” Blackwood said weakly. “You came back.”
Galvanized energy still rippled through her, making it feel as if all her muscles were tensed simultaneously. But at least words came easier now. Holland had shrouded her again, she realized, though it had been so smooth she’d barely noticed it. She took in an adobe ceiling and shuttered sandpanes. A coarse rug pressed against her burning back. Low booms still echoed from some far-off place. Andrew’s house. Her house. Holland had brought her home.
“Holland, why isn’t she moving? What’s wrong with her?”
Andrew was suddenly kneeling in front of her, his eyebrows knit in concern.
“Holland found you,” Blackwood managed. “Didn’t… betray me.”
Tears ran down Andrew’s cheeks. “Mila, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I thought you were dead, you would have been dead–”
“Not dead,” Blackwood forced out. “Alive. We’re both… alive. Where’s Holland?”
Andrew looked up, just over Blackwood’s shoulder. Blackwood tried to follow his gaze, but Holland circled around into her line of sight. He knelt at her other side, opposite Andrew.
“Are you OK, ma’am?” he said.
“You saved him,” said Blackwood. “Saved me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I want… truth from you. Now.”
“I…” He faltered, staring at her uneasily.
“Say it,” said Blackwood.
Holland swallowed. He held her eyes for several long moments before speaking again. “I’m a Dhavnak spy.”
Blackwood let out a slow breath. An unexpected tension released in her shoulders. She struggled to string her thoughts together coherently.
“How much… happened… your fault?”
“Probably most of it,” he answered quietly.
“Andrew, too?”
“Not entirely. But I didn’t make things better.”
Andrew’s gaze flicked between her and Holland, but he didn’t break in to correct him. Anger simmered just beneath Blackwood’s surface. She fought to keep it contained. Erupting at Holland wouldn’t help anything, not in this state.
“Why… save us?” she asked.
“The beating I received was real. I was ripped apart for withholding information. Afterward, my reasons for needing this position… were all obsolete. I’ve lost everything.” There was no shame or remorse in Holland’s voice. Just bone-tired resignation. “You’ve done right by me. Not just once, but over and over again. It was the least I could do.”
“Withholding information,” Blackwood repeated.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“About me?”
“No, ma’am. About myself. My mark. My gender.”
“Your gender?” Blackwood blinked as his words sank in. “Oh, Xeil’s grace. You’re a woman.”
“Ma’am.”
“So your commander…”
“I killed him. He had my mother murdered, and tried to come after me next. I wanted to save her. I thought if I got the intel…” Holland looked away, blinking hard. “You and your brother have nothing to fear from me,” she finished roughly. “Not anymore.”
The red-hot anger spiking through Blackwood was suddenly and unexpectedly paired with another emotion. It took her a moment to recognize it. Sympathy. She tried to cling to the familiar pulse of anger instead. Holland had destroyed their lives. She’d almost gotten both her and Andrew killed, and stolen everything Blackwood cared about from right under her nose.
But she’d been faced with a decision. Either stay home in Dhavnakir, oppressed and abused, wondering for the rest of her life what had happened to her mother… or take matters into her own hands. It seemed like an impossibly foreign situation to be forced into, and yet here it was in front of her, and Blackwood couldn’t say for a second that she wouldn’t have made exactly the same choices.
“My condolences,” she finally said.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“It’s Blackwood. I’m not your CO.”
Holland hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I’m Klara Yana. Klara Yana Hollanelea.”
Blackwood’s lips parted in surprise. Different responses ran through her mind. How very Dhavnak that name was. How it was such a huge risk in her line of work. How telling Blackwood her real name wasn’t something she’d had to do.
In the end, though, Blackwood simply took it for the gesture of trust it was. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Klara Yana nodded, her eyes still fastened on Blackwood’s, and pushed herself to her feet. Blackwood saw that lithe grace differently now – not a boy barely out of his teens, still waiting to gain his muscle mass, but a lean woman with a confident agility. She looked older too, without that feigned uncertainty she’d had ever since Blackwood had known her.
“I’ll leave you and your brother to recover,” Klara Yana said. “But… if you want me to… I’d like to help make it up to you. We’re the only two people in the world who’ve been marked by those creatures. We have a bond, whether we like it or not.”
“Make it up how?” said Blackwood.
“Your submarine crew. I have some connections that might get them out of the internment camp. I’ll do my best.”
Blackwood’s eyes widened. Klara Yana held up a hand.
“I can’t promise anything. Except to try.”
“Find me,” Blackwood said. “When you have information. Need help. Anything.”
“I will, Blackwood. I’ll be in touch.” Klara Yana brushed a fist to her opposite shoulder in a casual Belzene salute.
Blackwood blinked, her breath catching.
“You’re the best officer I’ve served under, CSO,” said Klara Yana. “And that’s the truth.” Then she was gone.
With Andrew’s help, Blackwood got the gunshot wounds on her arm and leg cleaned and redressed, grateful there were no signs of infection. Andrew made tea and brought pillows and blankets out to the couch for her, along with some painkillers, which she took gratefully. The absolute worst agony was the one on her back. Her skin had suffered severe burns from the flash-heated steel deck. They left her feeling feverish and weak, with a fatigue deeper than she’d ever experienced. She knew that she and her brother needed to leave the house – Cu Zanthus knew where they lived, and she had no doubt he’d send someone for her, and maybe Andrew, too – but the excruciating pain in her back was hard to think past, and she found herself lying motionless on the couch instead, drifting in and out of consciousness as explosions racked the city.
It might have been hours. It might have been days. All she knew was that at some point, her mind gradually let go, and she slept. She slept in the dreamless oblivion that only severe fatigue can bring, and that she’d often longed for in those final few weeks on the Desert Crab. She slept far away from the pain and the fear and her constant responsibilities. She slept in a place without bombs, without war. Without betrayal or guilt or regret.
When she finally surfaced again, some indeterminate amount of time later, and found Ellemko eerily silent around her, she thought herself still sleeping. But moments later, dread filled her.
“We were taken,” she whispered.
Andrew looked up. He was sitting on the floor beneath the sandpane on the far side of the room, a book open in his lap.
“Andrew,” she said. “Tell me. Were we taken?”