Velkan chuckles. “That would be worth the price of admission.”
I reach across to punch him playfully, but he grabs my fist and pulls me close, kissing me softly on the lips. “I love everything about you, Trattora,” he whispers when he lets me go. “Especially your misdemeanors.”
Ghil clears his throat. “That was touching, but can we get back to the loose shutter?”
“This way,” I say, thankful for the darkness to hide my flushed cheeks. I lead the way down a narrow lane and circle around to the back of the Great Hall. “That’s the one.” I point to the window on my left. “I’ll slip inside and look for her. Wait for my signal to help her down.”
I quickly scale the wall up to the windowsill, peel back the shutter, and then squeeze through and drop to the floor of the musty storage room I’ve hidden in on many an occasion before. I remain frozen in place, waiting and listening in case anyone detected my arrival. When nothing moves, I get to my feet and tiptoe over to the door. I open it quietly and peer around the deserted hall. The only occupants are the ghostly outlines of the elders’ carved seats on the dais overlooking the empty trestle tables.
I bite down on my lip, my stomach roiling at the heart-rending possibility that my mother is not here, or worse, that Karad was mistaken and Parthelon did not spare her life after all. I fight back the paralyzing fear and force myself to stay focused. She could be confined in any one of the adjoining chambers. I creep toward the nearest door and cautiously push it open, my muscles tense and ready to spring should a guard unexpectedly appear. The room is empty, save for a single shaft of moonlight spilling over the top of the shutters and onto a box of old scrolls.
One-by-one, I go through the remaining chambers, but my mother is not imprisoned in any of them, and there’s no evidence that she ever was. Blinking back tears, I head out to the main hall and walk aimlessly down the aisle toward the dais where the elders’ seats form an imposing semi-circle of judgement. A fresh wave of pain crashes over me when my gaze falls on my father’s empty throne in the center, and it hits me that I will never see him seated here again.
My heart jolts in my chest when I spot a sleeping figure curled up on a mat behind the carved throne, long silver hair splayed around her like a shimmering waterfall in the moonlight. A well of tears gathers somewhere deep in my chest, but I push it back down as I pick my way over to her. I kneel by her side and shake her gently. “Mother,” I whisper in her ear.
She stirs and her soft gray eyes shoot open. Without skipping a beat, she stretches out her hand, and smooths it over my tousled hair. “Trattora! My child! I never stopped believing I would see your head of glory again.”
“Mother!” My voice breaks. I bury my face on her shoulder, silent sobs racking my body as I allow the relief of seeing her to mingle with the pain of losing my father, sending my already charged emotions into a tailspin.
“My dear, poor child!” She sits up and her fingers tug tenderly through my hair, unraveling knots and calming my clattering heart with the same, familiar gesture. “How did you get here?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “We evaded the patrols in a Syndicate ship equipped with cloaking technology. I’m going to get you out of here. The guards didn’t hurt you, did they?”
Her expression shifts into one of bemusement. “Of course not. The guards have treated their chieftain’s widow well.”
I search her face, catching the pain of my father’s loss in her gentle smile. “Parthelon will pay for what he did,” I say in a husky tone. “I will avenge my father.”
A troubled look flits across her face. “Parthelon? Don’t you mean the Maulers? They slaughtered your father. Parthelon is hiding me here to keep me safe.”
My lips part in disbelief. Parthelon lied to her about who was responsible for her husband’s death, and now the murdering deceiver plans to wed her.
She grips me by the arms. “What is it, child? What’s wrong?”
I gulp as I try to find the words to tell her, knowing they will unravel her. “Parthelon is not protecting you. He is hiding you here until the official period of mourning is over and then he intends to wed you.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. Her wide eyes betray the depth of her shock and horror.
“He ordered Father to be tried and executed for treason, but it was Parthelon who sold us out to the Maulers,” I add. “Karad followed him and overheard everything.”
Mother lets her hand fall to her lap, her beautiful face distorted with the double-edged pain of betrayal and grief. “Parthelon was your father’s most trusted advisor,” she whispers.
“He has been scheming to oust Father for years. The Maulers provided him with the opportunity.”
I reach out and take my mother’s chilled hand in mine. “He had me arrested and sent to the retribution hut, but I escaped. As soon as he finds out that I’m missing, he will come for you. We need to leave, now.”
She places a shaking hand on my shoulder and permits me to help her to her feet. “To think that Parthelon would betray us after all these years.”
“He hid his agenda well, but he always hated me. He never wanted you to adopt me. He aspired to be chieftain, and he used every opportunity to denigrate me in front of the elders.”
“Children irritated him,” my mother says vaguely. “I never thought to doubt his loyalty.
I give her a gentle tug. “We have to go, before he comes looking for you.” I pick up her shramskin from the floor and hand it to her. “Put this on. Keep your hood up so that no one recognizes you.”
Back in the storage room, I help lower my mother out through the window into Phin’s waiting arms, and then slip out after her, landing with a small thud on the ground beside them.
“Introductions later. Let’s go.” I turn to head down the alley.
I wince when Ghil’s fingers dig into my arm. “Ouch!” I hiss, swiveling around to glare at him.
“I’m not leaving Buir behind,” he says. “Her life’s in danger now that Parthelon’s hunting for you.”
I weigh his words for a moment. The Syndicate fleet will be here soon. Buir is as safe in her mother’s hut as anywhere else for now—no one knows she’s there other than us, and her mother won’t give her up—but Ghil won’t rest until Buir’s back by his side. I can’t take the risk of him sneaking off after her again and getting caught by Parthelon or the Maulers.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll bring her with us. If the sleeping draught hasn’t worn off yet, you’ll have to carry her.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Ghil says.
“I can help,” Velkan offers.
“And you’ll likely have to bring your prospective mother-in-law along too.” I arch a brow at Ghil. “It’s the only way to keep her quiet.”
He gives a disgruntled humph and stomps off down the alley.
Velkan and I exchange amused looks. My mother catches my eye, her lip twitching upward a fraction. If she suspects there is something between us, she says nothing. This is not the time to meet and greet.
We double back to Buir’s house and hide out in the shadows for a few minutes to make sure no one is stirring in any of the neighboring huts. When we’re certain the coast is clear, Ghil and I slip in through the back window and pad down the hallway to the tiny sleeping quarters where two figures are curled up on a shramskin.
I lean over the bed and shake Yeltavia awake. She peers up at me, frowning. “What are you doing back here?”
“Listen to me carefully. We need to flee to the caves, now. The Syndicate fleet is on its way to attack the Maulers. And Parthelon is hunting for me. It’s not safe here anymore. He’ll suspect you’re harboring me.”
Yeltavia blinks suspiciously at me. “Buir is still unconscious.”
I gesture over my shoulder to Ghil standing in the shadows. “Ghil will carry her, but we need to leave now before it’s too late.”
Yeltavia chews on her lip for a minute, studying Ghil. “If you’
re lying to me about this and just trying to lure me to your ship—”
“I don’t have time for games, Yeltavia,” I say, raising my voice a notch. “I’m telling you the truth. My mother is with us. She’s waiting outside with the others.”
Maybe it’s the mention of my mother that sways her, but Yeltavia suddenly springs into action, yanking back the covers. She pulls a floppy Buir into a sitting position, then gestures to Ghil to pick her daughter up, scowling at him the entire time. We make our way back to the kitchen, and I watch as Ghil carefully lowers Buir through the window to Phin, before jumping down after her, and taking her in his arms again. I smile to myself as I climb down after him. Coming here was the right decision. Ghil without Buir is not a good equation.
I lead our small and slow-moving group along a remote path out of the settlement and through the craggy foothills back to the underground caves, thankful when the darkness of the tunnel envelops us once more and we are safe, at least for now.
Rutane and his warriors ply us with food and warmed Astrofruit juice. The refreshing, sugary nectar activates all my taste buds as it slips down the back of my dry throat. I eat my fill of the hearty vegetable stew they serve us, then curl up and fall asleep for what seems like only minutes before Rutane rouses me forcefully. “Trattora! Karad is here to see you.”
I stretch out my tired limbs and frown as I scramble to process the words. Karad. Have I slept through an entire day? I rub my eyes and look up at Rutane, sensing immediately that something is wrong. I jump to my feet and follow him into an adjacent cave.
Karad is pacing the stone floor, one hand pressed to the back of his head. He stops short when he sees me, his scarred face blanched with fear.
“What?” I ask in a flat voice that I barely recognize as my own.
“Parthelon’s on his way. He’s going to smoke out the tunnels. You need to evacuate everyone now.”
25
“Parthelon knows you’ve escaped and he suspects you’re hiding here,” Karad says.
I stare at him, horrorstruck. “He would sacrifice the lives of Cweltan warriors just to get to me?”
Karad wrings his hands. “He made a pact with dogs. The Maulers have given him until noon to turn over whoever is responsible for setting the sand snipers loose in the camp. Otherwise they will make an example of him.”
I shudder at the thought of what the Maulers’ sobering threat entails. Whatever Parthelon brings on himself, he is still a Cweltan and one of my people. Yet, that meant nothing to him. He sold us into servitude, and now he is willing to let his people die if that’s what it takes to save his own skin.
My thoughts flit to Meldus and how selflessly he laid down his life for me. I would do the same for any one of my people. Maybe in the end what makes us Cweltan is not the blood that flows through us, but the heart we display under duress. And Parthelon has shown his true colors—silver-haired but black-hearted. I breathe slowly in and out as I come to a decision. If he wishes to share the spoil of the Maulers, he shall share their fate also.
“I will evacuate the caves through the southern exit and lead the people to the safety of a Syndicate ship hidden in the desert,” I say to Karad. “Brief the elders who stand with us. The Syndicate fleet is on its way to liberate Cwelt. The Fleet Commander lives. All those who side with Parthelon will be tried alongside him when this is over. They must choose this day whom they will serve.”
Karad bows low and exits the cave.
I turn to Rutane. “We need to move quickly. Can you carry the Fleet Commander?”
He inclines his head to me. “It would be my honor.”
I swallow hard. My people are already looking to me as their chieftain to lead them in this time of crisis—depending on me not to fall apart. I must hide my broken heart and display only courage to see them through this last stand before salvation comes.
Rutane and I return to the main cavern and I address the warriors as they gather around. “Parthelon knows I escaped. The Maulers have given him until noon to turn over whoever was responsible for the attack on the Maulers’ camp. He is on his way to smoke us out. We must evacuate the caves by the southern exit and flee to a ship I have waiting.”
“What if he posts guards at the exit before we reach it?” one of the warriors asks.
I tighten my lips. “You must be prepared to fight your fellow men who would resist us. If you are unwilling to do so, you are free to leave now and meet up with Parthelon as he advances.”
I sweep their faces, searching for any hint of dissension. No one makes a move to leave, and I am heartened by the warrior’s unanimous support, despite the uncertainty ahead.
“What of the Maulers?” Another warrior calls out. “They will come after our people once Parthelon fails to bring you to them."
“The Syndicate fleet is on its way to oust the Maulers and rescue the Fleet Commander,” I say. “Gather your spears and let us march to join them.”
A soft murmuring of voices ripples around the cave and then a slow chant begins. “Cwelt’s glory! Cwelt’s glory! Cwelt’s glory!”
I look around the cavern lit by flickering orange lanterns and see only hope and resolve on the faces of my people as they thump their spears on the ground in unison. My heart blazes afresh with love for my people and their pride in their planet. I give a discreet nod in Rutane’s direction. It’s time. He disappears into the alcove and returns with the Fleet Commander draped over his shoulder.
We move silently but steadily through the dark, winding tunnels that weave an intricate path to the southern exit. Ghil carries Buir in his arms, under Yeltavia’s watchful eye, and Phin keeps a supportive arm wrapped firmly around my mother. Velkan and I try repeatedly to activate my MicroComm and connect with Ayma until finally we pick up a faint signal and her voice comes through.
“We’re heading to the stealth fighter,” I say urgently. “Rutane and the warriors are with us. Parthelon is on his way to the caves to smoke us out. We may be pursued.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Ayma says. “I won’t open the cargo bay until you are within range.”
I hesitate and then add. “You have my permission to fire on anyone who tries to stop us, Cweltan or Mauler.”
After a long pause Ayma replies in a grave tone. “Understood.”
She knows it’s not a decision I make lightly—not one I want to make at all. But such is my fate. All my people may die if I can’t make the hard decisions when it matters most. As if reading the weight of my thoughts, Velkan grips my fingers and squeezes them. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s comfort enough to me to know that he feels my burden and wishes he could ease it.
By the time we reach the southern exit, it’s clear Parthelon’s men beat us to it. The tunnel to the surface is halfway filled with loose dirt, and more shovelfuls spill down every few seconds. We are trapped. Either I surrender to Parthelon at the main entrance or he will smoke us out as he threatened. I rub my hands over my face as I come to terms with what needs to be done.
My mind made up, I turn to Rutane and say in a low tone so only he can hear. “I will surrender to Parthelon. I will not see the bodies of my father’s warriors burn in an underground pyre of Parthelon’s making.”
Rutane’s expression doesn’t change as he lays the Fleet Commander gently down in a sandy recess. When he straightens up, his eyes are filled with resolve. “And I will not watch my chieftain concede to a coward and a traitor. We will not die here today, and we will not surrender. We will work in shifts to punch a new tunnel to the surface and outflank Parthelon’s men.”
My throat is so tight with emotion I can’t even muster up an answer so I simply nod—overcome with gratitude for the strength of Rutane’s will and the depth of his courage in the face of death itself. He is truly one of Cwelt’s finest warriors, and I’m only just beginning to realize what a privilege it is to lead men like him who adhere to such a high code of honor, whether in life or in death.
Rutane gets straight to work org
anizing his men to begin work on the new tunnel to the surface. They pair off and retreat with their spears back down the main tunnel and into a feeder shaft in a particularly sandy section shored up with wooden planks. A few minutes later I hear grunts as they begin removing the support braces and attacking the dirt. I grimace. The risk of the tunnel caving in on them and burying them is high, but not one of them flinched when Rutane gave them their assignment.
“Rutane is an exceptional young man,” Fleet Commander Kuberev remarks. “He reminds me a lot of Phin.”
“If it weren’t for Phin, we would never have returned from Mhakerta,” I say with conviction. “His military prowess saved us more than once.”
The Fleet Commander nods thoughtfully. “Talent is a gift from the gods, and skills can be acquired, but loyalty and devotion come from the heart of a man.”
I give him a rueful smile. “That’s exactly the kind of thing my father used to say. I miss his wisdom … so much.”
Fleet Commander Kuberev furrows his brow. “I will be at your disposal, should you ever need my counsel. I have no doubt you will become a great leader in your father’s wake. What you, and my daughter, and Phin and Velkan accomplished on Mhakerta is a remarkable achievement. You have given hope to many other occupied planets.”
“Trattora!”
I turn at the sound of Rutane’s voice. “We’ve broken through!”
For a long moment, no one moves. The tension in the tunnel is palpable as we search each other’s faces, the same question in every set of eyes. Are we prepared to kill our own people if they refuse to renounce Parthelon and lay down arms?
Leaving Buir, Yeltavia, and my mother in the guardianship of two warriors, I follow Rutane as he leads us to the new tunnel to the surface. One-by-one we crawl through, grasping our spears, and squeeze out through a small opening about fifty feet from the southern entrance to the caves. We are well-protected from sight by a smattering of large boulders and dense gorse, but to reach the safety of the stealth fighter, we have no choice but to engage Parthelon and his men. There are at least a couple of hundred Cweltans, armed and dressed for battle. The Maulers must have given them back their weapons to hunt me down. Loathe as I am to believe it, I should assume they are every bit as loyal and devoted to Parthelon as the warriors are to me.
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