Burned and Scarred (Burn this City Book 2)

by Brenda Poppy

  Staring through the eyes of her PeaceBots, Scar saw nothing, save for the wind blowing across the dunes. Its claws were fierce tonight, tearing chunks of sand from their beds and vaulting it into swirling eddies that lingered like ghosts in the air. More than once, Scar thought she’d detected movement only to find herself staring at columns of sand so solid that she was certain they could never be moved. Yet in the next instant they’d be gone, swept back into the desert like a sea reclaiming its waves.

  As the minutes ticked by, she could feel the rising doubt pressing down on her from all sides. The Lunaria’s expressions steadily morphed from anxious to worried to doubtful, and Scar didn’t know how much longer they’d wait silently for allies that might never show. Those prepared for action, she was finding, were not inclined to remain still for long.

  Another column of sand blew across the wildlands, and Scar watched as it dissipated into the night. Except this time it didn’t. Instead of ebbing, the sand grew, drawing closer and closer to the dome. Scar sat up straighter, and the movement sent a stir of energy through the tunnel. Something was happening. Something was coming.

  With a few taps of her fingers, Scar instructed her PeaceBots to focus in on the spot, giving her a multi-camera view of the approaching squall. Her eyes flicked between the scenes, willing the sand to resolve into a figure, willing forth a picture of Burn.

  And then, as if called into life by her need, a person appeared. Then another. And on and on and on until a small army was marching toward them. Out in front, leading the troops home, was the small brunette form that Scar knew so well. It was Burn.

  “They’re coming,” she said through the comms, the satisfaction and righteous glee apparent in her voice. “And they’ve brought some company. Stand by for action.”

  Although no one dared to break the silence of the tunnel – or the streets above it – she could sense their surprise and astonishment. They had doubted her, questioned her ability to back up her claims. That was one mistake they wouldn’t be making again.

  Scar watched as her sister strode toward them, recognizing the quiet confidence in her gait as she escorted her charges back home. Burn had never looked more like a leader than she did in that moment, with the sand swirling at her ankles and her head held high as she marched through the wildlands.

  Hale was at Burn’s side, the same hard determination plastered on his face as the last time she’d seen him. Scar was somewhat dismayed, having half hoped that Hale would have succumbed to the wildlands – or, conversely, made a home within it and decided to stay. But even his presence couldn’t keep her down for long, not when her sister was finally within view.

  Scar scanned the crowd behind the pair, combing it for other familiar faces. She secretly yearned to catch a glimpse of red hair amongst the throng, the same red hair that curled in wiry tendrils around her own fair face, but the darkness ate away at their features, and no matter how much she strained she couldn’t see her father within the pack.

  Coming back to herself, Scar measured the distance from them to the dome’s edge. She couldn’t set off the explosives too soon, or else the Peace Force would have too much time to investigate the source. She couldn’t set them off too late, either, as it would put Burn and her crew inside the blast radius. She had to time it just right.

  “Hold for my mark,” Scar commanded through the comms, readying her troops. She briefly relished the feel of having so many people hanging on to her every word, waiting with bated breath to obey her commands. Shaking herself, she refocused her attention on the wildlands, assessing Burn’s pace and internally calculating the time until detonation. Three, two, one…

  “Take cover,” Scar said, drawing the detonator from her bag. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her thumb firmly on the button. A silent second passed before the world exploded around her.

  Scar could feel the tunnel rumble, shaking dirt and rot loose and showering it down on her shoulders. She waited as the tremors subsided, then dashed back down the passageway. The pipes erupting from the walls tore at her clothes as she ran, but she didn’t care. Her mind was on Burn and only Burn, and she craved the sight of her like a plant craves light.

  She just managed to catch herself from falling through the hole. Ignoring the ladder, she vaulted over the edge and landed hard on the stone floor. Breaking into a run, she propelled herself toward the tunnel’s end.

  Dust and debris still lingered in the air from the explosion, but Scar could feel the cool breeze of the wildlands licking at her skin. It had worked. Inching forward through the rubble of stone and steel, she caught her first real glimpse of the night sky, its inky surface so clear without the barrier of the dome. Scar kicked aside torn-apart bricks and mangled metal as she made her way to the edge of the world and looked down.

  The sheer drop made her head spin, and she clung to the side of the tunnel as she peered into the night. Clouds of stone particles wafted around her, drifting into the desert air and obscuring her view of the wildlands, but she could just make out the sandy floor several stories below. And there, standing upon its banks, was Burn.

  The sisters’ eyes met, and they smiled, each drinking in the view of the other. Burn looked healthy and strong and something else Scar couldn’t quite name. It was as if the wildlands had bestowed some of their wildness upon her. She was dressed in warm woven clothes, the kind that still bore hints of the plants and animals used in their creation, and she was armed with a colorful assortment of weaponry.

  While the two considered each other, more members of the Lunaria took their places, dropping into the tunnel behind her and making their way to her side. One of the women unfurled a long rope ladder and tossed it over the side, lowering it until its rungs just grazed the ground. Beside her, two men lashed the ladder’s end to the tunnel, utilizing piles they’d driven into the stone. Their job complete, they nodded to Scar, giving her the go-ahead.

  Scar, in turn, nodded to Burn, beckoning her back into Kasis. “Come on in,” she said, knowing her sister could hear her.

  Burn turned, momentarily consulting with Hale and her crew before stepping up to the ladder and beginning her climb. Her progress was swift and efficient, her lithe body making quick work of the ascent. Within minutes, her hand was reaching over the edge, searching for purchase amongst the rubble.

  Scar reached out, taking her sister’s cool hand in hers and pulling her up the final few feet. Then Burn was there, standing before her like she’d imagined a thousand times.

  “I’ve missed you,” Burn said, not letting go of her sister’s hand. Without warning, she moved forward and draped her arms around Scar, wrapping her in a tight embrace that smelled like sand and sweat and home. And, for the first time in a long time, Scar hugged her back, giving in to the warmth and returning it.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.

  Chapter 22

  Burn felt like she was on top of the world. Literally. From her vantage point, she could see out across the desert, tracing the path they had taken to get to this point. It didn’t hurt that her sister was there beside her, the hard metal of her collarbone poking into her skin as they hugged.

  Their tender reunion was cut short, however, by the appearance of a small hand stretching up from the ladder beside them. Reluctantly letting go of her sister, Burn reached over the edge and clasped the hand, drawing Mika up and into the tunnel.

  “I’m in Kasis!” the little boy shouted, turning around to locate his parents on the ground. Spying them near the front of the line, he began jumping and waving to get their attention. “Look at me! I’m finally in Kasis!”

  Burn laughed at the boy’s antics, pushing him lightly to the back of the tunnel to make room for the next person. Several members of the Lunaria were waiting there to escort him up into yet another tunnel and back into the city. Burn paused to marvel at the smooth operation before a new hand reached up from the ladder to pull her attention away.

  Together, the sisters helped another citiz
en back into Kasis, forming an impromptu welcoming committee for their fair city. One by one, Burn and Scar pulled each person up from the wildlands. It was slow going, especially for those whose frailty or youth required additional assistance, but it was worth it to see the smiles on their faces when they finally crested the peak and set foot in Kasis once more.

  Nara was within the first dozen to make her way into the tunnel. Hale was facilitating the progression from the ground and would be the final member of their crew to make his way into the city, but Nara was eager to once again stand on Kasian soil, and she’d sweet-talked her way to the front of the line. Or she’d merely flashed her weapons. Burn wouldn’t have been surprised at either.

  Yet, despite Nara’s excitement, once she reached the top she couldn’t help but turn back and look out across the desert. Her eyes scanned the swirling swaths of sand as if she wanted to memorize the landscape and every creature within it.

  “I think I’m actually going to miss it out there,” she said quietly to Burn – and to herself. Tearing her eyes away from the scene, she noticed Scar for the first time and smiled. “You must be Scar. I’ve heard a lot about you. I can’t wait to pick your brain about weaponry.” She waggled her eyebrows at Scar, who cocked her head at the stranger.

  “And you are…?” Scar queried in her usual blunt tone.

  “Oh, of course. I’m Nara.” She stuck out her hand, but Scar merely stared at it, her tolerance for human contact already exceeded for the day. Realizing her faux pas, Nara retracted her hand and gave Scar a smile instead. “I guess I’ll see you later,” she said, waving awkwardly to the sisters before making her way down the tunnel.

  “I see you’ve made some new friends,” Scar said to Burn, her voice inscrutable.

  Burn chuckled, glad to see that her sister hadn’t changed in her absence. “I think you’re going to like them,” she retorted, smiling.

  To Burn’s utter astonishment, Scar started to chuckle in return. Then she laughed. Her sharp, metallic giggles rang through the tunnel for a few seconds, biting into the stillness of the stone. It was eerie, almost wrong to hear such mirth coming from her sister’s mouth.

  Then Burn remembered the time that she, too, had been overcome with misplaced merriment. The chemicals in the air must be getting to Scar, she realized belatedly.

  Burn had long since grown used to the strange air, but the people in the tunnels would begin to feel it within minutes, especially those on the front lines. And she didn’t need them going gaga – or worse, developing paralyzing headaches and passing out – while her people were climbing back into the city. So she took action, ushering Scar and the other Kasians up the ladder and putting several strong members of her party in charge.

  Following Scar into the higher tunnel, Burn’s ears naturally tuned to the sounds of the city above her. It was strange, being back in this place. The noises from the streets – the coughs and carts and footsteps on dirt paths – were both familiar and foreign, like an echo from a long-ago dream. Yet they were also comforting, and Burn took a minute to let the sounds wash over her, bathing her in their staccato melody.

  It was Scar’s sniggering that snapped her out of her daze, pulling her back to the present. Shaking her head, Burn continued pulling her sister along the tunnel, their progress slowed by the soupy smog that hung in curtains around them. That was one part of Kasis Burn hadn’t missed, and she pulled her mask tight around her mouth to keep the vile air from entering her system. Up ahead, she could just make out other figures feeling their way through the mist, and she followed in their footsteps, using her ears as her compass.

  Then something made her freeze, a move so sudden that Scar tumbled out of her arms. Burn lunged forward to catch her sister, helping her to her feet while scanning the world for the anomaly that had disturbed her. Something wasn’t right. She could hear it – and feel it. People were angry, vengeful, and bent on destruction.

  Burn closed her eyes, trying to locate the source of the fury. It wasn’t coming from directly above them, but rather further into the city. Yet it was rapidly approaching their position.

  “The Peace Force is on their way!” Burn shouted to her sister, attempting to tear her from her stupor, but Scar only blinked, confusion and pain dulling her normally bright eyes. Sighing, Burn grabbed the comms unit from Scar’s ear and placed it in her own, effectively taking command of Scar’s crew.

  “This is Burn. We have a problem. A Peace Force unit is approaching from the west. There are at least 50 of them, and more might be coming. I’m making my way up now.”

  Placing her sister gently on the floor, she took off toward the entrance. If they really were facing the Peace Force, Scar was safer here. But Burn could fight – and she would.

  Skirting other figures, she made her way down the narrow passage, scanning for Nara as she went. If a battle was indeed on the horizon, Burn wanted the woman by her side – or watching her back. While she searched, she conscripted what fighters she could from amongst her crew, warning the others to stay in the safety of the tunnels until the battle had passed.

  She had to hope it would end in their favor, had to believe they would win. Otherwise she had torn these people from their homes only for them to die in this godforsaken city. She couldn’t stomach the idea, so she pushed it aside, focusing on finding her friend.

  She eventually spotted Nara near the tunnel’s entrance, and she quickly caught her up on their predicament.

  “They’ll be here any minute,” Burn finished breathlessly, unsheathing one of the knives from her belt.

  She could have sworn that Nara’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a fight, but it was too dim in the tunnel to say for certain. Either way, she followed Burn’s lead, taking out a knife of her own and twirling it around in her hand.

  “Let’s do this,” she said with a smile, her confidence on full display.

  Burn, on the other hand, didn’t feel nearly as prepared. The Peace Force, she reminded herself, had guns. And bombs. And years of training. They had…knives and sticks. This was going to be an uphill battle.

  Burn took a deep breath, ignoring the putrid air, before heaving herself up the final ladder and into the city. The grime of this place never ceased to amaze her. It hung in the air and clung to the buildings, seeping into every crack and crevice. It was like a disease, crawling through the depths of the city in search of new victims to plague.

  The sound of approaching footsteps spurred her to action. There was no doubt now that the Peace Force was coming for them. Despite the distance, their thoughts sang to her, humming poignant melodies of intruders and death. They were coming for blood, and they were certain they’d get it.

  “They’re almost here,” she whispered through the comms, making sure everyone was in place.

  Her mind filled with an anxious energy, and she couldn’t tell if it was her emotion or theirs. Either way, it clawed at her, constricting her chest and quickening her heartbeat. Despite the fact that she’d trained for weeks by Nara’s side, real battle still shook her, and she strained to find a hint of clarity in the chaos.

  Tucked into a corner of the twisting maze, the Lunaria did have a small kind of advantage. The narrow streets and passages provided the protection of a funnel, which would stem the flow of officers from a wave to a trickle. So instead of facing an advancing horde, they’d have the chance to tackle their enemies as they came, evening out the odds. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe they could win.

  One second passed, then two. Then, in an instant, the Peace Force was there, their guns drawn and their shouts breaking the stillness of the scene. The Lunaria, backed by their new comrades, jumped, striking the officers before they had a chance to fire. Makeshift weaponry met steel gun barrels in a clang that filled the street, ricocheting off the walls and bouncing back in jagged echoes.

  The small square they occupied quickly filled to capacity as more and more soldiers filed in. The battle, which had rapidly devolved from a coordinated attack to one
-on-one skirmishes, spread like lava into the adjoining streets as each pair sought the space and freedom to fight.

  Burn herself leapt forward into the melee, using the wooden dowel in her right hand to disarm an officer, and the knife in her left to slash cleanly across his chest. She paid no mind to the blood. She couldn’t, even though it slicked her arms and her chest, falling to the ground in quiet splashes.

  Burn had to focus, had to fight. There was no room for remorse, no space for sorrow. That would come later. Now she had to move. She took off down a narrow lane in search of someone else to challenge, her brain consumed by the combat. Dodging wild blows and entangled foes, she inched through the disjointed battlefield with her weapons at the ready.

  Turning a sharp corner, she suddenly found herself situated behind an unoccupied officer, whose attention was focused on something in front of him. Burn seized the opportunity, sweeping his legs from beneath him and thrusting her knife into his chest. He grabbed at the weapon weakly, but the life drained from his body, leaving him limp on the pavement. Burn tugged at the knife, but it was embedded in his armor, wedged between the plates that had failed to protect him.

  As Burn struggled to free her blade, something struck her from behind, sending her sprawling on top of the body. She quickly scrambled off the man and spun to face her attacker, just making out the form of a burly Peace Officer before his gun struck her sharply on the side of the head.

  As she lay on the pavement, stars danced in her vision, threatening to steal her consciousness and force her into oblivion. Yet she held on, shoving her arm out in front of her. The wooden staff she clutched protected her from a third blow, giving her enough time to leverage herself off the ground and into a fighting position. Her head spun from the movement, and she had to grasp the wall next to her for support.