by H M Angues
Then I remember—she has been there, on visitations. Hell, she and her father ran the place.
I don’t feel bad for those prisoners, though. Only the most heinous crimes can get someone sentenced to Ragnar. Each one of them was a serial killer, rapist, child molester... or worse.
“Each block houses forty-nine prisoners and spans all seven levels. The cells are solid concrete with thick metal doors. Suspended walkways line the walls, as well as one down the middle, and every few cells is a bridge that crosses to the other side. Stairs are at either end of the block and go from level two to level seven. The only exit is in between the Mike and November blocks. It’s an elevator that will go up and down only twice a day—in the morning and at night for guard shift rotations.
“The prison is far enough away that it would take Ramsey or Kainan a good amount of time to reach it if they heard word of your assault. There’s no way to sneak past it’s security—so you might as well just charge in, guns blazing. My recommendation is to use that small chunk of time during rotation to slip in. Everyone not in a cell is going to be trying to kill you, so don’t be afraid to fight back. Only one guard per block has the key card to open the cells. Find him or her, take them out. My guess is your men are in Foxtrot; it’s where war criminals who violated rules of combat are held.
“There’s one more thing,” Valek adds.
“What is it?” Jed snaps.
“It’s not just your soldiers being wrongfully imprisoned there. Men, women, and children from every Province have been thrown in that prison for displaying acts of loyalty to Calla. For the first time in centuries, the prison is full. You can leave them there, but...”
“They’re suffering for no reason. For defying Ramsey. We’ll get them out too,” Blade says, sending an accusative glare the Overseer’s way. We both know he would leave those innocent people in Ragnar if it were solely up to him. His soldiers and the mission are more important.
∞∞∞
We land the Condor in the forest about five miles from Ragnar Prison, which sits beneath the northwestern forested region of Gaitha, near the borders of Laroiviel and Darci. Loaded down with tactical gear, rifles, pistols and knives, our unit begins its trek through the woods. There’s fifty soldiers, plus me and Blade, equaling fifty-two, but we’ll be splitting up once underground to divide and conquer.
It takes a couple hours to reach the prison entrance, although we spend most of that time walking over the subterranean levels themselves. I can tell by gentle, steady hum of vents bringing in fresh air from the forest.
No one stands guard at the front door; it isn’t necessary when it’s the most heavily fortified structure in the empire.
A few dozen of our men take up spots hidden behind trees. Blade creeps toward the metal doors and punches in the outdated code Valek had given to us. Surprisingly enough, it works. From the other side of the doors, I toss in a smoke grenade and slide back into place against the cool concrete wall.
Blade and I pull down our gas masks and slip inside, rifles ready, at least a dozen of our men close behind us.
We pick them off one by one through the haze without a hitch. When it clears, the rest of the men charge in.
The alarm starts wailing through the air, echoing off the bleak gray walls. We press on, unbothered. Two men break off to one of the administrative offices. Valek had spent time with them, explaining how to disable the alarm and the automated comm that gets sent to all government agencies when it goes off.
Few guards remain as we make it to the elevator. It’s a large industrial contraption made for carrying at least a hundred men at a time. We wait patiently as it rises to the top level, loaded with the guards from the day shift and ready to take the night shift down below.
As it nears the top, we take position, ready to fire on them all the minute the doors open.
Except it’s empty when it reaches us.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. I turn to Blade. “The alarm must have gone off before they got in the elevator. All the guards are probably down there waiting for us.”
“We knew that might happen. Get in,” he commands, and I do as he says, followed by the rest of our unit.
We descend for a minute or two, all the while preparing to face an ambush when the elevator doors open.
Only about five guards are standing there. Our sheer numbers take them off guard, and a few of my men take them out within seconds. We hurry out of the elevator, and half of us go into Block Mike, while the others into November.
There aren’t any guards in Mike. The prisoners know it, too, and they’re deafeningly loud, banging on their cell doors and yelling disgusting words at each other.
“Where the fuck are they?” one soldier asks Blade and me.
“Valek said our people are in Foxtrot. I bet you all the guards are waiting in there,” I reply. In response, most of our company begins to move down the walkways to the doors that lead to Block Lima.
“Right you are, smarty boy.” The raspy voice comes from the cell to my left. Through the small, barred opening in the door, and old man peers out at us.
“Most of them went to Foxtrot, the rest are in November through Yankee,” he adds. Long, spindly fingers reach out through the bars toward me. “You’re young—handsome. I could have so much fun with you.”
I fight the urge to vomit and stumble away from the creepy old inmate. He reminds me of my father, and nausea pools in my stomach. My foot catches on something, and I slam into the rail, bracing myself on the cool metal. Down below, water as dark as the void sits idly beneath the walkways of level seven. Something disturbs the motionless liquid-obsidian surface, but I can’t tell what from this high up.
Blade grips my shoulder and pulls me away from the side. “Last thing I wanna do is fish your dead body out of that lake.”
I give him a nod and we press on, gradually making our way to Foxtrot. I send one of the soldiers from our group back to find the others and let them know the other prisoners we’re here for are spread out in blocks November through Yankee. Radio communication doesn’t work down here, which is part of the prison’s strategic design.
We don’t bother to risk taking the train, so the trek through block after block is long. When we reach Golf, a giant G painted in white on the concrete walls, we descend to level seven.
Now is when things get tricky.
Chapter 28
Blade
I hand off my rifle to Rysen, along with my pack and the two pistols I’m carrying at my hip, and slowly lower myself into the frigid water of Ragnar Prison’s lake.
“Don’t drown,” Ryse says before I take a deep breath and submerge myself in the water.
Even with the underwater flashlight, the lake is pitch black. It’s impossible to see beyond the narrow beam of light. I scan the wall until I find what I’m looking for, then resurface to take another deep gulp of air and dive back down.
A grate sits at the very bottom—hidden by the jagged rocks that jut upward toward the water’s surface and out to the sides, as if they had limbs—which was put in place to allow water to flow freely between the cell blocks. I swim through it until I reach the other side, turn off my flashlight, and slowly rise to the surface.
I make sure to stay hidden beneath one of the walkways as I analyze the area.
Valek and I almost forgot the grates connecting each cell block. Swimming the whole way would have been illogical, but here it’s necessary. We planned for the very likely possibility that things would play out exactly as they have. For a moment, I wish he was here, that Jed had allowed him to come, but I shake my head. Valek is valuable, and the Underground needs him alive.
I tread water directly below the center walkway of level seven. On level two, far above my head, are at least fifty or so guards, meaning a fight would almost be a perfect two-to-one situation. Not good enough—I want better odds. My soldiers have families in Jurynn to get back to.
I have the information I need, so I swim b
ack to Block G to report on my findings. Before I can resurface, however, I slam into one of the rocks. As I push myself away from the stone, I notice that it’s far too soft and fleshy to be a rock.
I shine my light on the object. Once I realize what it is, I can’t reach the surface fast enough. I throw myself onto the metal runway, coughing up water and so overwhelmed with panic I can barely breathe.
“Bodies,” I gasp.
“What?” Ryse asks as he helps me heave my body out of the death-infested waters.
“Bodies. There are... bodies. On the rocks. Stuck to them,” I manage, barely able to get the words out.
“That’s strange, wouldn’t most of them have been… I don’t know, cleared out by now?”
I shake my head. “This one wasn’t in a prison jumpsuit. The body was fresh, but it didn’t look Namari.” I had seen markings on its body, like black ink etched ino the skin.
“Wait,” one of the men says, pushing his way through to speak to me. “Did you see any markings on it that looked like this?” He pulls down the side of his body armor and shirt collar to reveal a series of x's marked into the skin of his neck.
I nod, remembering it vividly. “More than one, though,” I explain.
The soldier doesn’t look surprised. “Primori,” he says. “Like you’ve been told, in the Arena, we’re forced to fight those death matches for entertainment. You get an x tattooed on your neck for every kill. It’s a symbol of honor for us. Before I fled to Jurynn, Ramsey would send patrols and haul away any... troublemakers. Now I know where she sent the ones they took.”
Ryse snatches the waterproof flashlight from my hand and begins to strip off his gear, guns, and body armor. He lowers himself into the water, carefully avoiding the deadly rocks, and then his head disappears under the black surface. The seconds tick by slowly before he finally comes back up, gasping for air.
“There’s hundreds of them, all over the lake,” he breathes as several soldiers help him out of the water. His lips are blue from the cold and he’s shivering slightly. “All fresh. I highly doubt hundreds of prisoners would kill themselves within the last couple of days.”
“So, Ramsey’s really having them killed,” I say somberly.
Silence ensues for several moments. At least half the soldiers here are Primori refugees, and they’re some of the best in the Underground.
Primori. I know how we can beat the unfavorable odds. Jed had instructed not to let Primori soldiers use their abilities for fear of Ramsey catching on to their escape from Helkyn, but I can't think of any other option.
“Are any of you Oceanus?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.
The same guy who had shown me his x steps forward. “Yeah. I’m Jeriko, by the way.”
“You’re Syn’s husband,” I realize out loud. “They’re all on level two, and you have an arsenal of water at your disposal. Let’s use it.”
∞∞∞
All of us make it safely through the grate, careful to avoid contact with the cadavers littering the lake floor and jutting out haphazardly from the rocks. We tread water as silently as possible under the walkways, hidden from view. An Aero had formed an air bubble around all of our guns so we could safely move them under the lake. Upon surfacing, we quietly set them on the runways.
Jeriko is the first to climb out of the water. He raises the current slightly, making it easier for the rest of us to silently hoist ourselves up. Luckily, the voices of nervous guards up above do a lot to drown out any small sounds we make.
The Oceanus doesn’t act until we reach level three. A good chunk of the guards is standing on one of the bridges that connects either side of the cell block. Jeriko begins his work, coaxing the lake water toward him until it swells large enough that it floods the lowest level, but he prevents it from leaking into the cells and drowning the prisoners that we’ve already told to be silent. They’re our own people, after all, and willing to do whatever necessary to be rescued.
One of the guards takes notice of Jeriko standing below him but doesn’t get the chance to alert the others.
A massive wall of water slams into the guards on the bridge, sending them flailing into the depths below. The wave splashes back into the lake, sweeping currents moving in all directions as the Sea of Silence sinks back to its normal level. A couple of the guards survived, and some of my men rush to retrieve them from the water and detain them.
Meanwhile, the rest of us turn our attention to the remaining soldiers above. We storm up the stairs at the far end of the block and begin to gun down those facing us. The Primori soldiers with us use their abilities to take out as many of the men as they can. A Metallurge forms a shield of sorts, stopping all incoming bullets from reaching their targets while allowing our own shots to pass through. Before we know it, we’ve downed them all, restraining the few survivors to take back to Jurynn for interrogation.
I take the key card off one of the fallen guards and start swiping it against doors to unlock the latches. Along the other side of the block, the Metallurge is using her abilities to release our captured soldiers. She escorts them all back up to level two to meet up with the rest of the group. Almost a hundred of our men from the scouting party were held prisoner in these cells, two or three men and women inside each one.
Most of them are beaten and bruised from the abuse they received from Ramsey’s guards. For the most part, though, they’re all able to keep up with us.
It takes two hours to reach our rendezvous point with the rest of our unit: The elevator. Hopefully, one of the Primori with us can force the lift back to level one.
The door to Block Mike slides open with a screech before we even reach it. I cast Rysen a wary glance.
Standing there, with a few dozen soldiers behind him, is the one and only Kainan Dane.
“Fancy seeing you boys here,” he croons, striding closer to us along the center walkway.
He looks more lifeless inside than his brother, his blue eyes appearing dark gray, circles beneath them, and sunken cheeks. And while he appears physically fine and healthy, just as built and strong as before, there are bruises peeking out from beneath his regal-looking clothes.
First, she forced him to kill the girl he loved.
Now, she’s torturing him.
Speaking of her, a willowy and dark-skinned woman appears at his side, fingers sliding up his arm as she places a soft, almost loving, kiss on his cheek.
“Blade. Rysen,” she says with a wicked smile, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Ramsey fakes a pout before she smiles, white teeth gleaming under the bright lights.
Hot rage boils inside me as I seethe, and I can practically feel Ryse’s anger mingling in the dank air with my own. It takes every ounce of self-control I have left to keep myself from attacking him in that moment.
I can feel one of those claw-like hands scrape against the inside of my mind. Look at what Kainan has become. My perfect puppet—that could have been you, you know. That snake-like voice hisses from inside my skull. I wince and try to force her away, my weeks of torture at her side resurfacing in my mind. Thankfully, Ramsey doesn’t dig deeper and instead focuses her attention on the Primori. One by one, she suffocates their abilities and takes extra care to make sure that I’m aware of it all.
Cruel bitch.
That’s rude, she purrs. I want nothing more than to pitch myself into the Sea of Silence, just to keep her out of my head.
“Their abilities will be out for a while. My work is done here,” she says, gliding gracefully away from us and disappearing into the elevator.
“There are a lot of cruel jokes I could make right now about our father, but I’m going to choose to be the better man and keep quiet,” I hear Ryse state bluntly.
The youngest Dane brother is letting his anger cloud his judgment. Anyone could see that Kainan is being tortured, even though I still don’t wholly trust the guy. “Rysen, I think he’s still on our side—”
But the look the older Dane gives me shuts me ri
ght up. No one can know, then, because Ramsey will know. And hurt him more.
The plan, he mouths the words carefully. For Calla.
Rysen hardly notices, his face red with anger and rage at seeing the man he believes to be responsible for Calla’s death, even if it isn’t true.
“Dad would be so proud of his favorite son,” Rysen snarls.
Kainan’s face contorts into something strange at the second mention of their father. He unsheathes a familiar blade from its hilt at his side, the metal glinting in the fluorescent lighting. Blood still stains the short sword. It hasn’t been cleaned since it the last time it was used.
Since he used that very sword to kill Calla.
“I wonder if Ramsey knows her lover practiced his talents in the bedroom with his father before using them on her. Did Calla know? Did you even kiss your mate before she died? I imagine not, if she knew what you did with daddy.” The words drip with malice as the younger Dane spits them at his brother. I didn’t expect anything less cruel from Rysen.
Not after knowing what he was capable of saying to Calla, a girl he claimed he loved. Those words stung her deep, even if she didn’t show it. I never imagined Rysen would be any kinder to the brother that he hates.
Kainan cocks his arm, ready to swing. And do what to his brother, I don't know.
I feel a brush of air against my skin. I open my eyes.
Kainan’s sword is frozen in place, hovering just a few inches from Rysen’s throat.
Holding the blade in an iron grip, which is as unforgiving as her menacing armor, is Calla Renald, alive and as strong-looking as ever. Black shadows billow around her, and her hand glows bright red, turning the sword in her hand into molten silver liquid. With the other, she punches Kainan in the jaw.
All of this happens so quickly—within a few seconds—and the traitor’s soldiers barely have time to register what’s going on before half of them are swept off the runway by a massive wave of lake water, summoned by Calla herself. While the dozens of wailing men fall to their deaths, the lights directly above explode, and a bolt of white hot electricity strikes the runway, electrocuting Kainan and his soldiers without harming any of us.