by David Meyer
Continuing his hike, he spied the breach in the wall. Privates Rin Burke, Dak Chrome, and Norsen Lang stood on the nearby platform. Burke looked especially shaken. Titus puzzled over this for a second. Then it hit him.
Private Foraw.
Burke had been on guard duty earlier in the evening. He and Foraw had run for cover when the drystorm arrived. Burke had escaped. But one of the sandswarms had overtaken Foraw, reducing him to a pile of bones.
Titus didn’t know Foraw all that well. But he liked him. The guy didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.
He bumped into someone. Startled, he reared back and saw a red-faced Sanza glaring at him.
“Watch where you’re going,” she snapped.
She stood underneath the platform, her gaze focused on the breach. Given all that had happened, it seemed like an odd place to be.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She tore her eyes off of the wall. “I’m trying to figure out how the sandswarms got into the fort.”
“You think they came in through the breach?”
She nodded. “But I’m guessing it’s a machinery issue.”
“Oh?”
“See that?”
He followed her gaze and saw a small machine hanging from the wall. A green light flashed. Faint beeps emanated from the device.
“Those machines line the walls,” she said. “We’ve never understood them, but we maintained them anyway.”
“You’re talking about the Code’s precautionary principle.”
She nodded. “When the tank breached the wall, it also wrecked a machine. I’m guessing the machines, taken as a whole, keep sandswarms at bay.”
“So, why hasn’t it been fixed yet?”
“Because we didn’t prioritize it.” She shrugged. “A lot of machines took damage during the battle. We’ve been focusing on the essential ones. We took the rest—including the one that used to hang here—to a vacant shed on the other side of Natica. We call it the junk shed.”
“Nice name.”
“The idea was to repair them one at a time. I was hoping to have them all done by now. Unfortunately, we’re short-staffed.”
“Can you fix it today?”
“Yes, assuming I can find it.”
Private Stubbels coughed lightly. “Titus?”
Titus wheeled toward the newcomer, ready for just about anything. What he saw was a proud, angry man. “What is it, Private?”
Stubbels glanced at Sanza, then back at Titus. “I’d like a word. In private.”
Stubbels had always displayed strict respect for Natican authority. So, his failure to address Titus as ‘Sir’ came as a mild surprise.
Sanza rolled her eyes, then walked away.
Stubbels, meanwhile, leaned up against the massive wall. Chin tilted skyward, he studied the stars. “I’m going to make this simple. A lot of people—me included—don’t trust you.”
Titus arched an eyebrow. “You really are delusional, aren’t you?”
“And you’re a bloodfiend.”
“I fought the Banished, same as you. Dargon nearly killed me a couple of times.”
“And yet, you’re still here. Why is that?”
“I got lucky.” He frowned. “Are you accusing me of something, Private?”
He angled his gaze down from the sky. His steely eyes met those of Titus. “It’s been six months. How come we haven’t found them yet?”
“We will. We’ve got them on the run.”
“Do we? For months, we’ve been trekking into the hinterlands. Sometimes, we’re gone for as long as a week at a time. And yet, we’ve got nothing to show for it.”
“That’s not true. We’ve found stragglers.”
“Big deal. We found the people who could no longer walk.”
“The Banished have been hiding in the desert for a long time,” Titus replied, his patience starting to thin. “They’re good at it. Most likely, they’ve got spies positioned around Natica, watching our every move.”
“Not just around Natica. Inside of Natica.”
“Watch yourself, Private.”
“Let me put it this way. I think your kinship to Dargon is shading your view.” He paused. “On behalf of Natica, I’m asking you to relinquish your position as General and surrender yourself to my custody.”
“Absolutely not.”
Stubbels sighed.
Titus glanced to his right, saw Sanza standing about twenty feet away. Her arms were crossed and she eyed them carefully. From the looks of it, she’d heard every last word of the conversation.
“Use your head, Private,” Titus said to Stubbels. “If I wanted to help the Banished, I wouldn’t keep trekking us across the desert. I’d just throw open the gates.”
“Would you?” He tapped his jaw. “I doubt it. They’d never survive a straight-up assault. After all, we still outnumber them three-to-one.”
Titus threw up his hands. “What do I possibly have to gain by chasing them across the desert?”
“I think you and your fellow bloodfiends are buying them time.” His gaze narrowed. “Time enough to build another tank.”
“Are you insane?” Sanza stalked toward Stubbels, fury etched across her statuesque features.
“Stay back,” Titus told her. Bristling with anger, he swiveled toward Stubbels. “That’s the exact reason I’m keeping up the hunt. I’m hounding them, not giving them a chance to get set. They can’t build a tank if they’re constantly on the run.”
“They can if you’re leading us astray. If you’re taking us to the wrong places.”
“That’s enough. If you—”
A vicious explosion roiled Titus’ eardrums. The ground rumbled under his feet and he spilt to the sand. His adrenaline kicked into high gear and he turned his gaze in circles, certain they were under siege from the Banished.
He didn’t see anybody. But he did see something in the dark sky. Namely, a bright orange fireball, surrounded by puffy gray smoke.
He looked at Sanza. She lay on her back, propped up by her elbows, her gaze focused intently on the fireball.
Satisfied that she was okay, he turned toward Stubbels.
But the man was gone.
Chapter 10
Sanza’s jaw gaped open. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Titus gritted his teeth. “But it came from the solar farm.”
“Another attack?”
“It’s a strong possibility.” He found his footing. Glancing around, he looked for Stubbels. Unfortunately, he still saw no trace of the man. Well, Stubbels would have to wait.
He broke into a sprint. People were everywhere, watching the fireball with a mixture of fright and amazement. Many had drawn their swords.
Dodging between them, Titus kept going. His feet screamed as they slammed into the sand. His chest ached for breath. He was so tired that his head felt foggy.
Reaching the solar farm, he was relieved to see he’d misjudged the location of the fireball. It came from farther back, from a plot of land near the curving wall.
Slowing his speed to a jog, he glanced at the sky. The fireball had vanished, leaving smoke in its wake. It occurred to him that it differed from the ones he’d seen six months ago. Those fireballs, shot from the refurbished tank, had fallen upon the fort. This one, meanwhile, seemed to have arisen from within it.
A large crowd of Naticans caught up to him as he passed through the solar farm. Wielding blades and sporting grim faces, they kept a lookout in all directions.
On the farm’s outskirts, he spied a couple of sheds. One in particular captured his attention.
Grinding to a halt, he watched thick smoke curl out of its entryway. A couple of people lay nearby, sprawled across the ground, coughing and hacking.
Sanza ran to his side. She took one look at the shed, then ducked through the entryway.
He frowned. Was she nuts? From the looks of it, a sizable fire raged within the interior. If that didn’t get her, the smoke surely w
ould.
Stanner elbowed his way through the crowd. For a long moment, he stared at the scene.
Titus swiveled toward him. “Find Podey. Tell her we’ve got a fire.”
“Yes, Sir.” Wheeling around, the private scurried toward the reservoir.
Titus ran to the shed. As he drew close, he started to recognize some of the coughers. He saw Cutter and Yerdon, both relatives of the Banished. Orro and Private Apion, disciples of Stubbels, were there, too.
Skipping past them, he hustled to the entryway. Every Natica structure possessed a unique staircase. However, there were two major types in use. Deeper buildings tended to utilize shifting flights of steps, broken up by landings. Shallower ones were normally serviced by a singular, enclosed flight.
This particular shed, which was fairly shallow, possessed the second type. Enclosed by concrete walls, the staircase led down into the earth before opening up into a sizable interior.
Heat crested up the stairs, accosting his cloaked body. Sweat began to bubble up from his pores. Meanwhile, thick smoke stung his eyes and slipped through his clenched lips. He started to cough uncontrollably.
Swiftly, he donned his headgear and face covering. His hacking died off a bit. He took a couple of light breaths, then peered down the stairwell. He couldn’t see any flames. But plenty of light flickered in the smoke-strewn space.
Sanza staggered into view. She’d shed her cloak and now carried it in her hands. Holding it tightly, she lunged forward, presumably smothering some of the fire.
The smoke thickened, snuffing out much of the flickering light. Squinting, he peered down the steps, but was no longer able to see her.
His right foot found the first stair and he eased his weight onto it. Gently, he placed his left foot onto the next one. When his footing was secure, he stepped again, this time with his right foot. Gradually, he picked up speed, passing into increasingly dense smoke.
The heat intensified. His vision pretty much vanished and all he could see was the occasional flash of light.
He walked to the bottom of the stairs. Gently, he touched the walls on either side of him. They felt cool, despite the intense heat.
He hiked into the shed. The enclosed stairwell had choked up the smoke. But down here, the space was more expansive and as a result, the smoke was a bit thinner. Looking around, he found he could see things. And surprisingly, there was a lot to see.
Metal shelves, stuffed with gadgets and scorched pieces of debris, lined the walls. The floor was littered with machinery, much of which was on fire.
His eyes widened behind his face covering. The shed was normally empty. And the machines looked battered and broken, injured long before the fire consumed them.
This is the junk shed, he realized.
No wonder Sanza had rushed down the steps. These were the machines she and her people had yet to fix. He didn’t know what any of them did. But one of them, apparently, might help protect Natica from future sandswarms.
He spotted her off to his left, attempting to douse some particularly brutal flames. Smoke shrouded her, obscuring her figure. He didn’t bother trying to call her. Instead, he stumbled across the smoky space and grabbed her arm.
She twisted around. Her eyes, protected by a face covering, looked sunken and unfocused.
He pulled her toward the stairwell. But she fought free and returned to the flames. Cloak in hand, she fell on some fire. The fabric smothered some flames but new ones popped up. She tried to shift toward them, but lost her balance. Her body splayed out on the floor.
Titus’ eyelids grew heavy. His breathing felt labored and his body started to sag. Lurching forward, he gathered her up in his arms. Then he turned toward the stairwell. Her cloak, still clutched tightly in her hand, slid off the fire she’d attempted to smother.
He recoiled in horror. Three bodies, almost totally aflame, lay on the floor. Two of them were short, maybe four feet tall.
Sanza wasn’t trying to save a machine.
She was trying to save people.
Chapter 11
“It’s just like the witnesses said, Sir. The adult is Virda Stoychok.” Stanner knelt next to Titus. “The kids are the Lopa twins. Soyto and Frube.”
Titus stared across the fort, his gaze aimed at the sky. A few rays of sunshine peeked over the horizon. The heat was rising, although it had yet to reach sweltering levels.
He licked his parched lips. “What happened?”
Cutter, his face blotchy and bruised, curled his lip. “I’ll tell you what happened.” He pointed at Orro and Private Apion. “Those lunatics attacked us.”
Orro grunted. “You ran. We chased.”
“What’d you expect?” Yerdon looked at him in disbelief. “You threatened us, pushed us around.”
Apion glared at him. “If you’d been honest from the start, this never would’ve happened.”
“Yeah,” Orro chimed in. “Because of you bloodfiends, two kids are dead.”
“Because of them, Virda’s dead,” Cutter yelled. “She was their teacher. And they still went after her.”
“Separate them,” Titus said to Stanner. “Before they start fighting again.”
He nodded. Rising up, he quickly steered Cutter and Yerdon away from the shed. Taking his lead, Private Chrome escorted Apion and Orro in the opposite direction.
Once they were gone, Sanza and Podey walked over to Titus. Sanza’s eyes were bloodshot and black soot covered her cheeks. Her skin was bright red in a few places, indicating minor burns. “I tried to warn you.”
“I know.” He exhaled. “What happened?”
“Apion, Orro, and the Lopa twins are Stubbels’ disciples. They cornered Cutter, Yerdon, and Virda in the galley. Started harassing them, calling them bloodfiends. It got intense so Cutter’s side tried to leave. But that only emboldened the disciples.” She paused. “They chased them here. A fight broke out and Virda ran into the shed. The Lopa twins followed her.”
Podey clenched her fists. “They got her killed.”
Her fury caught him off guard. Then he recalled her kid sister—Froya Kreeze—was one of the Banished.
“Have they ever attacked you like this?” he asked.
“No. Not physically.” She frowned. “Just with insults and accusations. ”
Nodding, he glanced at Sanza. “What about the fireball?”
“Obviously, we kept torches in that shed. And from what I’ve been able to gather, the Lopa twins were carrying improvised explosive devices in their cloaks. I assume a torch accidentally ignited one of them. It blew up, triggering a chain reaction.”
“Explosives?” He goggled at her. “What were they planning to do with them?”
She shifted her footing. “You might want to ask Stubbels that question.”
“I will.” He exhaled. “How’s the shed? Is it a total loss?”
“Not quite. But pretty close.” She paused. “Listen, I need to get back there. We’re making an inventory of what’s left.”
He nodded. As she returned to the shed, he lay back on the sand. For a couple of minutes, he stared up at the sky, deep in thought. The internal strife, he realized, had spiraled way out of control. How had everything gone so wrong?
It was partially fear, he decided. Fear of the Banished, fear of death. It was also due to a lack of governance. He’d thought he was doing the right thing by setting the Code of Conduct aside. By not becoming king.
But he saw now that the changes were too sudden, too jarring. In retrospect, he should’ve undergone the ascension ceremony. Then, as king, he could’ve begun to whittle away at the Code of Conduct.
“Sir.” Stanner hurried to his side. Bending down, hands on his knees, he wheezed for air. “A whole bunch of people just left.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After I led Cutter and Yerdon away, I followed them at a distance. You know, just to make sure there was no more fighting. Well, they gathered up relatives of the Banished and subdued the platform guard
s. Before I could stop them, they escaped through the breach.”
Titus climbed to his feet. “Where’d they go?”
He shrugged. “I lost sight of them, Sir.”
Swiftly, he fit puzzle pieces together. Virda’s death must’ve been a breaking point. Cutter and the other relatives, fearing for their lives, had decided to flee the fort. But where would they go?
The most likely candidate was one of the four stations. They’d be able to get water there. With the right cell materials, they could even fix up a few rasco machines. The other possibility, he figured was the mountain fortress known as the Shell. He hadn’t seen it yet. But from what Jarven had told him, it once had its own water source.
Brow furrowed, he started across the sand. He wanted to see the point of escape and talk to the guards. Stanner was quick to join him. So was Sanza, who’d recently emerged from the shed.
Podey darted into view. Racing to his side, she grabbed his arm. “Cutter and the others … they just left.”
He exhaled. “So I heard.”
“They asked me to go with them. Said it wasn’t safe for us anymore.”
“Why didn’t you?” Stanner asked.
“Because this is my home.” Her lip curled. “And I won’t let Stubbels and his goons force me out of it.”
Titus’ adrenaline began to race. His trudging walk turned into a light jog, which quickly turned into a much faster one. Soon, he broke into a full-fledged run.
Overhead, the sun shifted into view. The temperature jumped a few notches and Titus felt sweat ooze out of his pores. Slicking some from his forehead, he kept up his pace.
But as he neared the breach, he saw something curious. Close to one hundred people milled around the front gate. They were listening to someone. His eyes sifted through the crowd, checking everyone’s gaze. Following their lead, he saw the speaker.
It was Stubbels.
Forgoing the breach, Titus veered toward the gate. Eyes popped open at the sight of him and the crowd parted to either side. He strode down the middle, backed by his friends.
“You’re still here?” The private looked genuinely surprised at the sight of him and Podey. “I figured you’d left with the other bloodfiends.”