The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2

by J. V. Roberts

  “Sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Perkins. I’m Private Redding and this is Private Atchison. We just wanted to let you know that we’re really sorry about—”

  “Save it, Private. It’s a little late for the condolences.” Redding recoiled and she wondered if it was her rebuke or the alcohol on her breath that got to him.

  “Yes, well, all the same, you have our condolences.”

  “Get on with it.”

  Atchison stepped forward and spoke. His tone was much firmer than his partner’s. “Lord Marshal Hause sent us. He’d like to speak with you.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to the Lord Marshal. Excuse me.” She tried to shut the door, but Atchison blocked her with his foot.

  “It’s not a request.”

  “What’s he going to do? Lock me in the dungeon? Kill my husband? Oh wait, he already did that.”

  “Ma’am, the Lord Marshal did not…” Redding began.

  Atchison held up a hand and silenced him. “Are you aware of what’s going on downstairs?”

  “Men are dying for no good reason. What’s new? It’s been happening for hundreds of years. The Union considers its men expendable. Grinds ‘em up and spits ‘em out like trash.”

  Atchison cleared his throat, his face turning a deeper shade of red. “You’re certainly entitled to voice such a wrongheaded opinion in light of your recent loss, but I wouldn’t advise taking it beyond these walls.”

  Amanda moved to challenge him, but the alcohol was wearing off and so was her will to fight; what she felt, stronger than anything, was the desire to sleep.

  “If you’re ready, we’ll take you to the Lord Marshal.”

  “I said I wasn’t going.”

  “And I said it wasn’t a request. We’d like to avoid making a scene in front of your children.”

  “What am I supposed to do with them? You going to babysit?”

  “He will,” Atchison said, volunteering Redding.

  Redding looked surprised, but quickly accepted his new title and shrugged. “Yeah, sure, I used to watch my sister’s kids.”

  All Amanda could think about was her bed and she figured the best way to get back to it would be to cooperate. “I’ll get my shoes.”

  She gave each of her brats a quick kiss on the head before stepping out into the hall with Atchison, leaving them in the care of the rather timid Redding. “Who wants to play with the cars?” she heard him saying as she pulled the door shut.

  Atchison walked ahead of her, keeping a brisk pace, his back straight and his arms rigid. Everything about him was just so: razorblade collar, the base of his sideburns shaved into perfectly symmetrical, horizontal lines, and creased slacks that gently massaged the tops of his shoes. There was no flair about him. He was a man desperately seeking a promotion. He reminded her of how her husband had been back when she’d first met him. He was young and rigid, ambitious, desperate to rise, desperate to touch the sun. And he had. He’d flown right into the damn thing and left her to mourn his descent.

  “Are you going to tell me what Hause wants?” The bright lights in the hall were giving her a headache and making her feel queasy.

  Atchison shook his head. “Not my place to say.” He led them around the corner, across the landing, and up the first flight of winding stairs. “My best guess is that it has to do with what’s happening downstairs.”

  “What’s happening down there has nothing to do with me.”

  “It has to do with all of us.”

  Her legs were already burning and they still had quite the journey ahead. “No matter which side wins, it’s going to be the same shit. Dan will still use our boys like chess pieces, sending them out into the Outlands to get eaten for his own gains, while trying to convince us that it’s for our protection. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

  Atchison turned, looming over her. “Mrs. Perkins, what you’re saying is treason, especially in a time of war.”

  “Oh please, it’s been a time of war since Hause sat his ass—”

  “He is the Lord Marshal! As I told you before, you’re entitled to your opinion, and as the widow of a fallen brother, you’re afforded certain privileges. But you keep those words inside your home. If I hear anything else like what you just said, I will arrest you, and I will bring you before the Lord Marshal in chains. Are we understood?”

  “You have no—”

  “Are we understood?” He pointed a finger in her face as the other hand rose to meet the pistol on his hip.

  How quickly she’d fallen in status. If her husband had heard some grunt speak to her like that, he’d have skinned him alive. “Yeah…understood.”

  “Good. Now I’d prefer it if we could complete the rest of our journey in silence.”

  They rounded staircase after staircase, Atchison pausing to wait on each landing, irritated, tapping his foot, a scowl on his face. The only noise broken between them was her desperate panting.

  As they drew closer to Hause’s office, Atchison decided to break his vow of silence. “You should stop drinking, you have kids.”

  Amanda laughed. “You’ve got balls, Private, I’ll give you that. You gave me a warning, so now I’m going to give you one: stay out of my personal life.” She grabbed Atchison by the elbow and spun him around. Now she was doing the pointing. She could tell by his face that he didn’t know whether to shit or spit. “I let you have your moment. I let you get by with threatening me, with pointing your finger in my face, but I’m not going to let you tell me how to raise my kids. I know you think that because my husband is dead, that I’m some bird with a broken wing. But I’ve still got friends here, very powerful friends, and if I wanted it, I could have your bony ass stripped of rank and thrown in the dungeon. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “I…you—”

  “Don’t screw with me, Atchison! I’ll ruin your life! Understand?”

  “…yes…ma’am…Mrs. Perkins.” He went all slump-shouldered and his cheeks grew pale.

  “Let’s go. I’m tired and would like to get back to my bed.”

  Amanda felt a little lighter after that. Like she’d excised some of the demons that had been haunting her for the past several weeks. She floated through the rest of their journey and a few minutes later she was standing in front of the obnoxiously large doors that gave way to Hause’s office. Atchison handed her off to the two soldiers standing guard and slinked away. They led her inside and quickly retreated.

  Hause was standing behind his desk, as usual, staring out over the barren landscape. He turned as the doors slammed home and forced a thin smile. “My apologies for making you walk all this way.” He was statuesque: hands clasped behind his back, extending his broad chest, his white mane pouring over either shoulder. He always kept his chin slightly raised as he spoke, giving the impression that he was looking down at whomever his audience happened to be; a piece of subtle psychological maneuvering, most likely.

  “I suppose it’s asking too much for a widow to expect a personal visit from the Lord Marshal.”

  “I’m afraid it’s all hands on deck. My duties won’t allow me to leave this room, I’m afraid.”

  “Would you have darkened my door if circumstances allowed?”

  Hause shrugged and took a seat.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  “Please, sit.” He gestured to one of the high-backed leather chairs on the other side of the desk.

  She was thankful to rest her legs, sighing with relief as the cushy leather absorbed her aching body.

  “How’re the kids?”

  “They’re kids. They don’t fully grasp it yet. They see me cry and they cry. Otherwise, life goes on.”

  “The perks of youth.”

  “I’m still a few years away from having to answer the tough questions.”

  “And they’ll know their father was…is…a hero.”

  “It’s sweet that you believe that.” Her eyes were growing heavy as her neck slowly sank into the supple cushionin
g.

  “He died protecting the Union.”

  “He died in some nowhere shithole, trying to buy peace off of a bunch of inbred monsters.”

  “Like it or not, we have to find a way to coexist with those inbred monsters.”

  “How’s that working out so far?”

  Hause folded his arms across the desk and leaned forward. “I don’t blame you for being upset and we’ll have plenty of time later to discuss politics if you like. But that’s not why I called you here. We have more urgent business to attend to.”

  “You’re referring to the Defense Minister.”

  “You were in the Great Hall, you’re aware of his feelings towards me. What you may not be aware of is the armed rebellion that he’s leading. He’s already killed men that he once called brother, men that you called friend.”

  She shook her head, her eyes focused on the ornate patterns carved into the front of the desk. “I’m aware of what’s going on. And I never called any of you friend. I suffered you because of my husband. Now that he’s gone, I’ve got nothing tying my loyalty to any of you. I don’t care if he kills you or if you kill each other. What difference does it make to me? The hole in my family still remains.”

  “Loss is tough. I’ve experienced much of it. It never gets any easier.” Hause stood, like a giant oak tree springing from the ground, reaching maturity in seconds rather than decades. He skirted around the desk, his fingers sliding across the polished wood. He sat on the corner, right next to her head, his leg practically touching her arm. “But that loss is the price we pay for the freedoms we enjoy…for the freedoms that you and your children enjoy. You say you don’t owe us loyalty, yet you eat our food, wear our clothes, and seek security behind our walls. How long do you think you and your children would endure out there?” He leaned in closer, placing an elbow on one thigh, bracing himself. His breath was slightly sour, like spoiled milk. “We could find out. Perhaps you had something to do with Dan’s rebellion. Perhaps you helped him in order to get back at me over the death of your husband.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “It’s a likely story. You were in the Great Hall today. You saw how they responded to me. Who do you think the good folks of Genesis will believe? Their Lord Marshal or some bitter widow with a grudge? One word from me and you and yours will be outside of these walls, dining on dust for supper.”

  His eyes burned through hers, like floodlights illuminating her every thought, she couldn’t hold his gaze. “What do you want from me?”

  Hause sat back and slapped his knee, an oversized smile on his face. “There ya go, that’s more like it. I think I hear some loyalty percolating in your voice.” He stood and rolled his shoulders as he moved around behind her chair. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but your husband is somewhat of a hero among the men. Fallen soldiers always are, but when a man of his reputation falls, it resonates more. Poor Dan. I think he believes that he’s somehow honoring your husband’s memory through is actions. Perkins would be ashamed.”

  “Would he?”

  Hause continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Like it or not, we’ve got a rebellion flaring up in Genesis. We’ve got to stamp it out before the infection grows. All of us have a part to play and yours may be one of the most important.”

  “Enough with the speechifying. I’ve got a family to get back to. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  He gripped the back of her chair and leaned across her right shoulder, nuzzling her hair, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “You’re going to unite us,” he hissed.

  15

  Dried blood coated her body and stiffened her movement. She felt like a freshly sculpted, clay pot, slowly hardening beneath a shrouded sun. Any attempt to change position resulted in her wounds yawning and leaking. So she remained as she was, hung over sideways, face pointed at the ground. Her tongue was swelled up between her lips, lined with bloody teeth marks where she’d bitten down in an attempt to dull the agony of the blade; trading pain for pain.

  Time slowed.

  Illusions became one with reality. Images of home pulsated across the front of her mind. Her father whispered in her ear, dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth, pushing a bucket close to the bed to catch her vomit. Dominic stood on the other side of the room, breathing heavy, his eyes rolled back in his head, bloody chunks missing from his belly.

  It’s okay, sweetie, it’s just a stomach bug.

  Something prodded her thigh; hard and painful. She jerked. The clay cracked. Blood flowed.

  “Yeah, the bitch is still alive.”

  A whimper died somewhere deep inside of her.

  Her clothes, the ones Hawthorne had given her, were scattered a few feet away, tattered and soiled.

  Hawthorne had gone slow, but not for the sake of cruelty. Silas had guided his hand, forcing the blade deeper, his approval manifesting itself in breathy colloquies. Hawthorne hadn’t looked. He’d kept his eyes squeezed shut, the tears escaping like water from a failing dam. He’d kept apologizing, his words trapped in shiny bubbles of saliva that popped across his lips. She’d wanted to comfort him. Let him know that it wasn’t personal. That she didn’t hold him responsible for his actions. He was a hostage, just like her, even if his bindings weren’t visible. But she’d had no voice with which to offer solace, it had died shortly before she’d blacked out from the pain. Silas hadn’t brought out the blade for her benefit. She’d already screamed for him. She was already broken in his eyes. The spectacle had been for Hawthorne. To break him. To force him to kill, with his own hands, that which he’d attempted to nurture. She wouldn’t see him again. How could the boy ever look at her without remembering the horrors he’d been forced to inflict? That’d been the point: to shame him, to put him on the leash.

  A year ago, she’d received her stripes. She’d walked the stage in the Great Hall and was sworn in as a Shadeux. She was one of the elite, the tip of the spear, trained to handle matters of life and death. But she’d never expected to venture beyond the walls of Genesis, none of them did. With the war at an end and the Lord Marshal doing everything in his power to avoid further conflict, she saw her future filled with rustling drunken Outlanders and settling domestic disputes, a glorified peacekeeper. That had been fine by her. She had possessed no desire to shed blood, only to honor the memory of those that had gone before by helping the Union prosper. If that meant twirling a baton and cracking heads, that’s what she’d been prepared to do. Getting sent out on assignment. Tasked with an actual mission. That had been unexpected, something that her father and the Lord Marshal had presented to her over the dinner table. There was no choice involved, she’d simply been handed her marching orders. She was expected to accept them with a smile, which she did. She’d felt nervous excitement fluttering around in her belly. The kind other women her age described when talking about cute boys and first dates. She’d known the Lord Marshal would be tasking her with a partner. She’d expected it to be a fellow Shadeux. But instead, she’d gotten Dominic.

  A man she’d despised.

  A man she now loved.

  A man, whose memory wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket, comforting her, telling her it was all going to be okay.

  Something Dominic had said kept coming back to her, It’s them or us. Promise yourself, every time, that it’s gonna be them. She used to think that meant staying alive. Beating the odds. Pulling the trigger so she could keep breathing. That was probably how he’d meant it at the time. After all, the brute was no philosopher. But as she hung there, staring at the heavens from the lowest point of her existence, she understood that true defeat would come in the form of false hope, from holding onto a life that no longer existed. Beyond the Glass Mountains, surviving meant letting go, and victory was found in death.

  Silas and his blade had taught her that.

  16

  Lerah was burning, the flames inching up her legs as she tossed her head towards the blackened sky, screaming until her voice gave out.
There was nothing Dan could do to reach her. Every time he got close, something pulled him back. There was a circle of witnesses. Union and Rebel. Watching Lerah with expressions of impassivity drawn across their faces. Dan moved to each of them, like a politician shaking the hands of his constituents, trying to stir them into action. He knew he was speaking, but he couldn’t hear the words leaving his lips. He could feel the tears on his face. He could smell his daughter’s searing flesh.

  Caldwell’s face emerged from the fog, hanging over Dan, twisted with panic. His words were distant, fading before Dan could make sense of them, but one came through loud and clear: “Attacked!”

  “What?” He sat up on a thin pad of blankets, spread out in the middle of the Tower One lobby.

  “Hause’s men are attacking Mechanical!”

  Dan was just now noticing the chaos around him: men loading their rifles and racing for the exit. “What’s the situation?”

  “I don’t know! I haven’t been over there. Reyes took a team!”

  “Fuck!”

  “Sir, you said they wouldn’t make a move on Mechanical!”

  “Not the time, Caldwell! Let’s go!” Dan took up a rifle and joined the procession of men snaking their way from the lobby, out into the darkness of the Outland, in order to cross over to Tower Two. Caldwell was on his heels. “How long?”

  “We got the report a few minutes ago. I’m not sure how long the fight has been going.”

  “Lights are still on, so that’s a good sign.”

  The Tower Two lobby was a war zone. Men were filing in and out of the narrow stairwell on the far left-hand side of the room. Some were wounded. Others were carrying the wounded and the dead. There was blood leading right up to the door: the stairwell had become a kill room. The broken bodies of Dan’s warriors littered the lobby floor. They were clutching their wounds as a handful of qualified medics did their best to plug the leaks. Many lay lifeless in a puddle of coagulating crimson, their eyes empty marbles, their faces pale. Dan stepped and stumbled through the carnage as an all too familiar feeling took hold of him. It was the Battle of the Canyons all over again. His men lying scattered among the bodies of the Rebels, their death rattles filling the air as the crows gathered overhead, preparing to feed on their flesh. Back then, Dan had knelt and wept, trying to convince himself that it hadn’t been in vain. He’d told himself that the war and the losses suffered would prevent future wars and allow future generations to flourish.