The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set

by D J Edwardson

  Adan’s arm flushed white hot like it had been dipped in fire. Without hesitation, he let his bioseine suppress the pain, but that was no long term solution. Blood flowed freely through the rip in his garrick sleeve.

  All thoughts of his injury vanished when another group of Waymen rounded the corner. They let their spears fly, half a dozen filling the air. Senya screamed again, but Adan, Sierra, and Tarn, dismissed the attack with blasts of white energy.

  Adan and Sierra followed up the defensive maneuver with blasts from their oscillathes. A moment later, a carpet of unconscious Waymen filled the hallway.

  “Too many,” Senya muttered, visibly shaken. She rushed to his side, her eyes fixed on his arm. “Adan—you’re hurt. We’ve got to wrap it before you pass out.”

  Adan surveyed his arm. From the elbow to the wrist, dark wet streaks coated his sleeve. Because he felt no pain, for a moment it failed to register that it was really his arm that had been hurt.

  Sierra ripped open the sleeve with the yellow beam from her cutter glove to get a better look at the wound. It was not deep, but it ran nearly the length of Adan’s lower arm. “Senya is right. We need to bind that wound.”

  “Senya, do they have any special way of tracking us in here? If we stop won’t they find us?” Adan asked. He didn’t question Sierra’s judgment, but he also didn’t want to put everyone at risk just to save himself.

  “I’m not sure. What do you mean?” Senya replied.

  Adan shook his head, “Never mind. Let’s head into one of these rooms and get this taken care of.” Even if the Waymen could somehow track them, hopefully their oscillathes and neutralizers would get them out of trouble.

  “This way,” Sierra said, swiping the panel to the closest door with her hand. Thankfully the room was unoccupied. Everyone filed in and the door swung shut behind them. It was identical to Malloc’s chamber with only a bed, a mobile cabinet, and a single lumin for light.

  “Tell me about this building. How can we get out of here?” Adan asked, sitting on the edge of the bed while Senya handed Sierra a roll of thin fabric from the cabinet.

  “The Waymen call it the Spoke,” Senya said. “It’s the largest building in Hull, I think. Parts of it are still being finished, but they moved most of the prisoners in here a few days ago so they could expand the scrapyard.”

  “Is there any place in this building we could—” Adan started to ask when a tin-sounding voice coming over the sound system interrupted him. It wasn’t Var this time.

  “Attention infirmary patients and attendants, we are locking the doors. Everyone is ordered to stay in their rooms.” Red lights running along the base of the walls began to pulse in time with a loud siren. “Remain where you are until the alarms have stopped. Anyone caught in the passageways is subject to the wrath of the Reeve.”

  Tarn rushed to the door and tried swiping the panel several times with his palm, but it would not open.

  “I didn’t know they could control the doors like that,” Senya said. “They will catch us now for sure.”

  “They can’t hold us in here,” said Sierra, working the bandage rapidly around Adan’s forearm. “Tarn, cut us a way out of here.”

  A bright yellow ray sprung from the end of Tarn’s hand. His quickness with the blade was impressive. Wielding it like it was one of the Waymen shivs, Tarn quickly converted the door into a metal slab which fell clanging onto the floor just as Sierra tore off the end of the bandage.

  Adan, upset at the delay his wound had caused them, leapt to his feet. The four of them hurried out into the hallway, glancing up and down its length. It was empty, but Adan doubted it would remain that way for long.

  “Where do we go now?” Sierra asked.

  “I know a place where we might be able to hide you for a little while—the kitchen,” Senya said, but Adan shook his head in response. While Sierra had been binding up his arm, he had been thinking about their situation and had come to a difficult decision.

  “They would probably find us there too. We can’t stay here. We need to get out of this city. The longer we stay, the more danger you and the other Welkin are in.”

  “But what about the escape? I thought you came to free us,” Senya said, giving Adan a questioning look.

  Adan reached into his pack and pulled out the tracking band Raif had given him. The black elastic loop was singularly unremarkable. “Put this on your wrist,” he said, handing it to her. “Tomorrow, at exactly one slice before midday this band will give off a slight pulse that you will be able to feel when you are wearing it. It will pulse again whenever you head towards our ship and it will pulse more frequently the closer you get to it. Before then, you need to gather everyone you can and head northwest, beyond the city walls. After you feel the pulse, it shouldn’t be long until you see the ship. If a storm comes up, or if you get lost, don’t give up. Just use this tracking band and it will lead you straight to us.”

  Though her confused expression did not vanish entirely, Senya nodded and slipped the band around her wrist. More questions clouded her face, but instead of voicing them, she leaned forward and embraced him warmly.

  “I had hoped to take you back to the boys, but that will have to wait. I’ll get Malloc to rally the other elders. We’ll see you soon enough—tomorrow—after midday.”

  “Everything will be all right,” Adan said. “You should go back to Malloc. I’m sure the Waymen will question you. Just tell them you don’t know where we went.”

  Senya’s eyes, moist with tears, settled on Sierra. “Take care of them,” she said.

  “I will,” Sierra said. She paused, embracing her awkwardly.

  Senya then turned to Tarn. “You look like you have a good heart,” she told him. “You remind me of my sons.”

  “Thank you,” Tarn replied timidly.

  “May the favor of Numinae be ever upon you,” Senya said.

  “And you.” Tarn lowered his eyes respectfully and gave her an abbreviated bow.

  “We’ll meet again soon,” Adan promised, trying not to think about what the Waymen would do if they caught her. He hoped they would go after his team instead. They were the intruders after all.

  “I know,” was all that Senya said, but Adan could read the same doubts he himself had in her eyes.

  Thirteen

  The Path of the Desert

  The three companions sprinted away from Senya. The red lights pulsed maddeningly and the beeps blared down the passage, but there were no sounds of pursuit. It was not long, however, before the passage came to an abrupt end.

  “Now what?” Tarn asked.

  “Great—a dead end,” Sierra growled, bouncing her shoulder against the wall. There were doors on either side, but they likely led only to patients’ rooms.

  But Sierra’s frustrated comment gave Adan an idea. “This is perfect, actually,” Adan said. “They won’t be expecting us to come out from this end of the infirmary.”

  Exchanging glances with Tarn, he saw that the Wayman understood his idea without him having to explain.

  “Which side, right or left?” Tarn asked, the tips of his cutter gloves flashing a yellow beam that reflected off the metallic walls.

  Adan pointed towards the closest door on the left.

  “If we punch through the far wall in that room it should lead us back towards the way we came in. That’s the best route to take since we don’t know how big this place is. We would get lost if we headed off in a new direction.”

  Tarn sliced the door off at the hinges. They rushed into an empty room, propping up the dismantled metal slab to cover the opening as best they could. Tarn dropped down behind the bed and began slicing through the back wall. He was careful to make the opening as small as possible and not let the section he cut off fall into the hallway on the other side. Once he completed the incision, he removed the elliptical cutout and laid it against the wall.

  Tarn peeked his head through to make sure everything was clear before slithering into the hallway beyond. S
ierra followed and last came Adan. He squirmed his way out of the infirmary, pulling the cut out section back across the hole.

  The hallway they found themselves in looked more like the ones they had walked through on their way in, dilapidated and made from scraps. Though Adan didn’t know exactly where they were, he knew their position relative to where they had entered the infirmary. If they headed back in the general direction they had come hopefully they would be able to retrace their steps out of the Spoke.

  No flashing lights or alarms were going off in this hallway. There were barely any lights at all, just a few lumins dangling from cords. They walked briskly, trying to look as normal as possible.

  They passed through an intersection without meeting anyone, but a moment later, Adan’s heart skipped a beat when a door they were just about to walk past swung open.

  A man in a dingy robe pushed a cart right out in front of them, blocking their path. He gave them an angry look, but appeared unarmed. Adan suffered a moment of panic, thinking the man might attack with his fists or shout out a warning, but then he realized that the look of anger was actually one of annoyance.

  “Excuse me,” the man said petulantly. “I’m trying to work here.” He waved in front of his cart, indicating his desire for them to let him pass.

  Adan and the others obliged and the man shuffled down the hallway, muttering under his breath. They left him behind, soon drawing close to the entrance to the infirmary. They were just about to make the final turn into the hallway where Adan expected to see the outer doorway when they heard sounds of commotion.

  They halted and listened. It sounded like a large group of men were heading into the infirmary. Harsh laughter mingled with various voices. In the midst of it came the sounds of someone being struck several times, followed by the loud cries of a familiar voice: Barlo.

  Adan risked a glance around the corner and saw the last of a group of Waymen entering the infirmary, leaving behind a writhing and moaning Barlo on the floor.

  Adan’s first impulse was to run and see how badly he was hurt, but he checked himself to make certain it was safe. When no one appeared for several moments, he turned to the others.

  “Barlo is hurt, but the hallway looks clear. I’ll go see if he’s okay. You keep watch in case anyone comes out of the infirmary.”

  Tarn nodded. “Be careful.”

  “Hurry,” Sierra urged. “Those Waymen might come back at any moment.”

  Adan padded down the hallway until he came to Barlo’s side. The man had blood splattered around one ear and matted in his hair. The dark red liquid also trickled from his mouth. He was so wrapped up in his own misery he failed to notice Adan’s presence.

  “Barlo, what happened to you? Why did they beat you again?” Adan whispered. He pulled out a tube of almamenth and yanked up the man’s tattered sleeve. He was about to rub it into his skin when Barlo recoiled in horror.

  “What? Who? Please, no more,” he begged, clearly dazed. He brushed a handful of wet, stringy hair from his eyes. “Oh, it’s you!”

  Adan put a finger to his lips. “Shh. They’ll hear us,” he warned.

  “Ah…yes,” Barlo said, lifting up a limp hand. “Here, help me up.”

  Adan pulled him up to where he could lean against the wall. “Are you well enough to move on your own?” he asked.

  Barlo coughed, a terrible sound like sand and rocks being stirred in a barrel. “I suppose I’ll manage somehow. Only don’t let them beat me again. I don’t think I can take another round of that.”

  “Don’t worry, Barlo. We’ll protect you,” Adan promised. He motioned for Sierra and Tarn to come down the hall.

  “Where are we going then?” Barlo asked, looking up at Adan with droopy, blood-shot eyes.

  “Somewhere safe,” Adan said. “Remember that place I promised you? Well, we’re heading back there a little sooner than expected. We can take you now if you think you’re in good enough condition to keep up. Just let me rub this into your arm first. It will help.”

  “Yes, of course,” Barlo replied, nodding. Adan promptly began working the greenish paste into his skin. The familiar, pleasant aroma filled the hallway as Sierra and Tarn appeared at Adan’s side.

  “Adan, even with that almamenth, I don’t think we should take him back to the praxis,” Sierra told him privately. “At least not now. He’ll slow us down. I think we should leave him behind to escape with the others.”

  “But you’ve seen the beatings he has taken. If they go after him again he might not live long enough to be rescued.”

  “We’ve got to go,” Tarn said, his eyes trained on the door. “It’s not safe here.”

  “Fine,” Sierra acquiesced. “I just hope we don’t regret this.”

  “Let’s get going, then,” Barlo said, stutter-stepping forward like rusty gears cranking into motion. “This way.”

  He shuffled ahead, holding his ear the whole time, heading back towards the entrance to the compound.

  They passed two women in the hallway wearing plain robes who gave the injured Welkin anxious looks, but he did not even acknowledge them, trudging right past.

  Several times Barlo looked back over his shoulder as he navigated the hallways, but there were no signs that anyone was following.

  They were about halfway to the exit according to Adan’s bioseine when Barlo made a left turn and began taking them in a new direction. Adan rushed up beside him and asked where they were headed.

  “Oh, what?” Barlo blurted out, jumping at Adan’s sudden appearance. He immediately shifted his gaze, focusing on the hallway up ahead. “Other way’s too dangerous,” he muttered. “Bound to be guarded now. This way’s better. A secret way. Much safer.”

  Barlo surged forward down the new hallway without waiting for Adan’s reply. Adan caught up to him just as Barlo stopped in front of a thick door. The door was surprisingly sturdy for the Spoke, and did not at all fit with any of the others they had seen, except perhaps those in the infirmary.

  “Wait here while I go inside,” Barlo said.

  “Barlo, we have to keep going,” Adan said. “The Waymen are looking for us.”

  “I’ll only be a moment, I promise,” Barlo insisted, his face simultaneously pained and imploring.

  “Adan, no,” Sierra interjected.

  “But I—I need to make certain it’s safe,” Barlo pleaded, clinging to Adan’s arm.

  Adan shook his head. He wished that the decision did not rest with him, but he knew that whatever decision he made, it had to be quick.

  “All right,” he said, nodding at Barlo. “But if you’re not back in a hundred count, we’ll have to leave you behind,” he warned.

  Barlo nodded profusely. “I’ll be back in half that,” he said. He pressed his hand to the panel on the door, but he had to do so several times before it opened. When the door finally slid away, all Adan could see was another doorway just beyond it. It looked as stout as the first one, but the first door closed before it opened, leaving Adan, Sierra, and Tarn to wait for Barlo out in the hall.

  “I don’t like this,” Sierra said.

  “Me either,” Tarn added.

  “He said he’d only be a moment,” Adan tried to reassure them, but inside a quivering sensation rolled through his stomach.

  “We’re risking an awful lot for someone we barely know,” Sierra said, her voice on edge.

  “Hopefully, he’s just making sure everything is clear,” Adan said.

  “I don’t like this place,” Sierra said quietly. “I don’t like anything about this city. There’s something not right about it, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Adan checked the fragmented map of the Spoke which his bioseine had formed in his mind. It looked like all the hallways they had traveled spread out from a central hub, somewhat like the layout of Oasis, though with corridors instead of streets.

  The most important detail of the building’s layout at the moment was their proximity to the only exit he knew about. If they cont
inued along the current passage, they would be moving further away from it. Adan was so focused on studying the map that he completely missed when the door whispered open.

  Tarn grabbed him by the shoulder, shouting “Look out!”

  A contingent of Waymen stood on the other side. Before Adan or his friends could react, they hurled several small, dark balls at them. Two struck Adan square in the chest and several others impacted against Tarn and Sierra. The Waymen who threw them were too close to miss. From the green dust and pungent smoke which exploded in the air around them, Adan knew at once that they had been hit by sopor pods, a Wayman concoction for knocking people out.

  Adan felt his eyes grow drowsy and his legs begin to buckle underneath him, but then he caught himself and shook off the haziness. Sierra and Tarn were not so fortunate. They keeled over, knocked out cold. Had his bioseine counteracted the drugs? But if so, then why hadn’t it saved Sierra?

  There was no time to resolve the mystery. Adan yanked his oscillathe from his belt and blasted the Waymen in the doorway with a crackling burst of invisible energy.

  They were jammed so tightly together, all six of them hit the ground with one shot. Seeing that no one was left standing, Adan knelt beside his friends, placing his hand on Sierra’s shoulder. The neutralizer in his gloves could revive people just as easily as it could render them unconscious. After a short jolt from his gloves, Sierra responded with a sharp breath and her eyes opened wide.

  “What happened?” she asked, looking startled.

  Adan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could answer he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see the doorway swish open and a figure fling something at him from the other side. The pinion sunk deep into Adan’s side. Though he felt no pain because of his bioseine, the force of the blow pushed him backwards and he toppled to the ground. A stream of blood began pouring from him onto the floor. It seemed impossible that a single person could have that much blood inside of them.