by T. C. Edge
No search party is being arranged to hunt down Woolf and her ally. Under orders from Lady Orlando, and despite several men vociferously demanding to go on the hunt, the commands are to stay put.
“We can’t spare the manpower,” she announces solemnly. “Especially not now.”
Gathered in a corner of the main hall, I give my account of what happened, and what I saw in Burton’s head. It quickly becomes clear just who the culprit was: one of the soldiers tasked with watching over Woolf. A man named Rafe, a gifted hybrid with the powers of a Dasher and Bat.
“I don’t understand it,” calls one of the soldiers. “Rafe was loyal. A good soldier. He’d never…”
“He didn’t have a choice,” cuts in Lady Orlando. “Woolf must have got to him somehow.”
“But how?! She was on drugs to suppress her powers. And she was wearing a damn mask to cover her eyes! How could she have done this?”
No one has a proper answer. Only suggestions.
“A lot’s been going on recently,” says Adryan. “Perhaps someone forgot to give her a dose? Or maybe her body has grown to repel the drug. I know just how powerful Woolf’s mind is.”
He looks at me as he speaks, and memories of his strong fingers around my neck flutter through my head. Not too long ago, she’d managed to get him to try to kill me with little more than a glance. And she’d taken complete control of his faculties at the same time, allowing her to control him via verbal commands.
If she can do that without breaking a sweat, she can probably do a whole lot more.
“But even if her powers were back, how could she control Rafe without seeing him with her eyes? Don’t you have to look into someone’s eyes to control them?” asks another soldier.
The question is aimed at me.
I nod, although my knowledge and experience is limited.
“As far as I know, that’s how it works,” I say. “Certainly for me. But who knows, maybe Woolf can issue some voice commands. Maybe just enough to get Rafe to remove her mask briefly. That’s all it would take, and then she’d have him…”
“And his powers?” continues the guard. “You said he almost disappeared in front of Burton’s eyes. That’s not possible. Burton was a Hawk. He should have seen him move! I don’t get it.”
“She must have augmented him, I guess,” I suggest. “Maybe she was able to unearth his true potential or something using her powers?”
“You people can do that?” questions the guard. “Why wouldn’t your brother do that with all of us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he can’t. Maybe Woolf is more gifted. I don’t have the answers…”
“OK, OK,” comes Lady Orlando’s calming voice. “We need to consider the ramifications of this. Woolf will now know of our location here, as Rafe already does. They will try to re-enter the city as soon as possible and get that information to Director Cromwell. If that happens, he will know we’re here, and will immediately send out a force to destroy or capture us. Needless to say, that cannot happen. Ideas, people?”
“We need to inform the underlands and our sentries across the city,” says Adryan immediately. “And spare who we can to keep a watch on the gates. It’s the only way that they’ll get back into the city. Which way were they headed?”
His eyes turn to mine.
“To the west, the same direction Zander went in.”
“OK,” continues Adryan, his sharp mind tackling the issue. “The nearest way into the city from here is the northern gate. She might make for that. I suggest we get some soldiers there immediately. They’ll be slow. Woolf has no powers beyond her mind, and even with Rafe alongside her, they won’t be able to move at pace. Guard the exterior of the gate, and block off that option.”
Lady Orlando nods her approval, and looks upon Adryan, impressed.
“The second option for her will be to make for the western gate, which is the way they were travelling,” continues Adryan. “It will take her a while to get there, and we know how dangerous the woods are. It’s quite possible she won’t even make it. To my mind, this was an act of desperation and nothing more.”
“I agree,” says Lady Orlando. “We must take this threat seriously, but logical thinking dictates that we have time on our side. Did Rafe have any method of communicating with the city on him?”
“No, my Lady, not to my knowledge,” says a guard.
“Good. Then they will provide no warning. We will try to get some of our men to the woods beyond the western gate, just in case.”
“And you said that Zander went that way?” asks a young, blond haired soldier. “Can we call on him to cut them off?”
“No,” says Lady Orlando immediately. “He’s engaged in an important task and cannot be distracted. But that does remind me, Brie, to ask you to contact him telepathically and see if you can get through. I’d like to hear of his progress.”
I nod.
“Yes, my Lady,” I say. “I’ll get on it in a moment.”
“Good. OK, Adryan, go to the comms room and make sure the underlands are aware of what’s happened. And arrange for two small troops to watch the northern and western gates from the outerlands side.”
Adryan nods and moves off.
“The rest of you, back to your posts,” she continues. “Morning will be coming soon and the battle still rages. We have lost five good men this evening and had another taken from us. Let’s make sure we don’t lose anymore.”
The group disperses, leaving me with a final query for Lady Orlando’s ears only.
“What about Commander Burns?” I ask. “I know he doesn’t have total control of the City Guard right now, but can he not put out a shoot to kill order or something, in case Rafe and Agent Woolf reach the gates?”
“It’s…possible,” she says. “I’ll try to speak with him and let him know. However, it’s not easy to make contact right now. We still need to maintain his subterfuge up there.”
“But we won’t if Woolf gets back. She’ll know all about Burns now.”
“Indeed. You’re right. We will do what we can, Brie. Now please, find somewhere quiet and see if you can get in touch with your brother. Come to me right after.”
I do as ordered, and make my way quickly back to my room. I must have slept for a decent enough stretch, albeit one peppered with nightmares and hardly refreshing.
Still, the adrenaline is pumping, and I’m not expecting to sleep again for some time. Yet I need to relax, to settle my mind in order to open up the pathways.
I do so, sitting still on my bed, taking a few deep breaths, trying to rid my mind of all that’s just happened. I picture my brother’s face, and find the connection blocked.
There’s nothing. It’s blank.
I try again, but have no luck.
And as a result, a carousel of terrible images runs through my mind. Terrible things that might have happened to him.
I thrust them away, stand up, leave the room, and rush my way straight back to Lady Orlando. I find her in the hall, speaking once more with Adryan.
She immediately knows I’ve failed to make contact.
“Ah, I suspected as much,” she says. “The toxic woods make such things difficult. I’m certain he’s fine,” she adds, seeing the flutter of worry in my eyes.
And despite my reservations and worries, I’m certain of it too.
My brother is always fine.
158
The next few hours are a nervous wait.
So much is happening right now that it’s hard to keep up. All over, the agents of Cromwell appear to be closing in, and every hour that the people stay in the underlands is another that takes them closer to being discovered.
I find myself pacing a lot, moving around the hall and listening for updates, and intermittently returning to my room for some peace where I attempt, once again, to speak with my brother.
The latter yields no fruit, and the former keeps my mind occupied. From the comms room, Adryan continues to pass on messages to Lady Orlan
do, who spends her time issuing orders and making decisions.
By the time dawn comes, and the sky begins to brighten with a new day, it’s being reported that a couple of the tunnels are close to being cleared. Our men are so thinly spread, and there are so many Con-Cops flooding the streets, that it’s becoming almost impossible to slow or impede Cromwell’s forces.
Soon enough, whether Zander returns or not, Lady Orlando is going to have to make the decision to abandon the underlands and clear the caves.
Yet we have some final cards to play. The traps laid by the Nameless will cause further disruption even when the enemy get through, and more explosives have been set to offer additional impediments. At the moment, we’re still relying on the fact that Cromwell believes the main Nameless HQ is somewhere underground. So far as we can tell, he knows nothing of this place, and has set his mind to the single task of excavating the subterranean city and cornering us all like rats in a trap.
The anomaly of Woolf and her new slave, Rafe, however, has only served to make the situation more frantic and opaque. Should she return to the city, the message will immediately be sent to storm the outerlands and hunt us down out here. It’s critical that that doesn’t happen.
Men have been set at posts beyond the gates. They’re men we can’t spare, but it’s something we can’t afford to ignore. And as further reports of heavy losses come in from the northern quarter, we have to rely more and more on the success of the secret mission that continues to unfold in the relative quiet of the east.
I am now very much on board with the plot, a turnaround that could only have been created by such a desperate situation. Truly, with the darkness closing in, we have no choice.
And despite my misgivings, I now hope for the mission to succeed. For the tower to topple and wipe out all our foes. For the city to fall to chaos and ruin and for us, the Nameless, to stride in and pick up the pieces.
And I think again how I’ve changed.
How war has changed me…
All now relies on Zander, out in the wilds. So much seems to rest on his broad shoulders, as so much once did on mine. We’re waiting for him, watching and waiting. Whether he returns with good news or bad, with company or not, nothing can happen until he appears through the mist.
Not, at least, until the very last moment. Not until we reach the very edge of desperation.
And that edge is creeping ever nearer.
I find myself in Lady Orlando’s quarters once more, alongside several other leaders of the cause. They’re older, unable to fight, but keen of mind and trying to offer advice where they can.
Many have family and friends in the underlands. Most here do. And so they stand and pace on tired limbs and urge for Lady Orlando to make the call. For the underlands to empty, and the people led to the surface out here beyond the city. For the perilous trip to the mines to be undertaken, even without a suitable escort.
Desperation. It’s already engulfed them. But Lady Orlando is a Savant. Her mind doesn’t process such a thing like the rest of us. She listens and computes things in her head, and hears the advice of Adryan, another of her kind, whose prominence here is growing.
He comes and goes with more news, and each time it appears that there’s nothing to do but run. The calls to evacuate grow louder, but fall on deaf ears. The Lady of the Nameless doesn’t give in to their outbursts of emotion.
She is detached from it all, as all good leaders have to be.
But, she knows too that the clock is ticking, and the final seconds are upon us. And as Adryan returns to the rear of the church once more, she finds she has no alternative but to act.
“The tunnel in district 5 of the north has been breached,” announces Adryan gravely. “The Stalkers are flooding in. They’ll be into the main caverns soon.”
“How soon?” questions Lady Orlando composedly.
“Estimates suggest less than fifteen minutes. The traps should slow them, and we have some soldiers still defending the passage, but they won’t last long. I Don’t think we have a choice anymore.”
The old leaders nod and agree, as they have been doing for some time.
Lady Orlando looks at Adryan for a moment, takes a breath, and then begins to nod herself.
“Order the evacuation,” she says. “Abandon all the caves and prime the failsafes at the exit tunnels. We’ll bury as many of them as we can down there.”
Adryan leaves the room to deliver the order. A collective sigh of relief empties into the room. I’m part of that. I want the underlands evacuated too. I want to get Drum up here and out of there, and Sophie and Maddox as well. I want to protect them in person like I promised Rycard I would.
And now I’ll get that chance.
Lady Orlando orders the room to clear.
“Go, inform everyone of what’s going on,” she says. “No one is compelled to stay here. All who wish to go to the mines can. We have only an hour or so before the people get here. Whoever wishes to leave with them must be ready by then.”
The leaders and luminaries depart the room, charged now with making their own decision. Stay here, and hope they’re not discovered, or make the long trek north into the dangers of the wild and the promise of a safer, secret refuge beyond.
I know what my task will be. I’ll go there, help however I can, protect whoever I can from the threats we’ll face. That is my role now.
But looking at Lady Orlando, I know that she isn’t going anywhere.
“Oh no, child,” she tells me when I ask, looking through the small window to the south. “I can’t leave here. I’ll stay with the bare minimum of protection, but the rest will go with you.”
“Are you sure? Can you not run things from the mines?”
“No, I cannot. The mines are nothing but a sanctuary, developed to hide those who cannot fight, and cannot contribute. Whether we win or lose the fight for the soul of the city, this fight for the future, I will see it play out right here.”
“I’ll return,” I assure her. “I’ll help them there, and then I’ll come straight back.”
She turns from the window.
“You must do what you feel is best, Brie,” she says. “Here, now, our path relies only on our team in the east. If they fail, none of us will survive. If they fail, you might be better off staying in the northern mines.”
“I have too many people I care about in the city. I’ll always come back. I don’t have a choice about that either.”
“Good, that’s good,” she says. “Now go and prepare yourself. You’ll be one of our most powerful escorts to the north, and the people will need you to be strong.”
“I will be,” I promise her. “I have to be.”
I leave the room, and return to the hall to find it more hectic than ever. So few here look like warriors. So few look like soldiers.
Moving towards the comms room, I find Adryan again hard at work.
“Any idea how many men we have in the underlands?” I ask.
He frowns and thinks.
“There are a thousand at least…”
“No, I mean soldiers. Those who aren’t fighting in the city. You know, protection for the people.”
“I have no idea, Brie,” he says. “Some of the tunnels have lost their sentries. A lot of our hybrids were out fighting, trying to delay and interfere with Cromwell’s forces.”
“Order them back,” I say. “They’re not doing any good out there anymore. They’d be better off coming here and helping us to the refuge.”
“I don’t have that authority. And it’s too late anyway. They’re trapped up there, and need to offer distraction.”
“Distraction? But they’re through, Adryan. There’s no point in distracting them anymore!”
“No, Brie, distraction for the strike team so they can go about their business in secret. Our soldiers need to keep Cromwell’s people busy, and the Director’s eye on them and them alone. He thinks he’s winning this. He might be in for a rude awakening.”
“So
you’re coming around too then?” I ask with a raise of the eyes. “To the idea of it? Blowing the High Tower.”
And, like me, he utters the same sentiment: “I don’t think we have a choice anymore. Cromwell has forced our hand.”
The minutes shoot by as the people gather their things. The force of a dozen or so soldiers here, a protective unit designed specifically to look after Lady Orlando and the other leaders, is split in two. Only half will stay and do their duty. The other half will help guide the people to safety.
I feel some solace at what I see. These are highly trained hybrids, powerful warriors. I only wish we had ten times more.
With the world seeming to move in fast forward, I find another ten minutes gone each time I glance at my watch. It seems like no time has passed when calls come from the front of the church, and I rush outside along with a number of others to see the first signs of our people issuing from the tunnels.
They appear through the barn across the street, led by a small force of soldiers, a thick procession of bodies climbing out of the earth like a swarm of giant ants. Some cling to personal belongings. Others cling to weapons. Women and children, and the old and infirm appear in their midst, frightened of what lies ahead and yet so glad to be out of the darkness.
They squint in the bright morning light, and cough in the toxic fog. Most have masks of some kind or another, ranging from proper protective gas masks to make-shift ones created from cloth and pieces of fabric.
Some won’t make it. Forget the deadly tribes and monstrous beasts and the lurking shapes of the Shadows, the toxic fog will be too much for some. The old, in particular, may not be able to cope. The young, too, may be more susceptible to the poison. As always, it will be the weakest among us to topple first. That is the natural order of things.
I imagine that Cromwell would smile at it all, enjoy the battle before us. I think of him watching from above, as if this is some giant experiment to weed out the weak and unleash the strong. A man like him, a Darwinist, committed to the concept of eugenics and perfecting and improving his race, would relish seeing these people die. Relish seeing them taken by the wild.