The Rogue Thread: (Book 2 of FERTS)

by Grace Hudson

  Rafaella ran a hand over her face, leaning back from the table. “Someone wanted us to know.”

  Jotha nodded. “That must be it. It’s what I thought when I first saw it. It’s unlikely anyone dropped an ember over the edge by accident.”

  “So, what? We’re dealing with a group? Mercenaries? Someone wanted to get our attention. Maybe someone who isn’t there by choice.” Rafaella blew out a breath, tapping a location on the map. “It came from here. Follow that line for long enough and you come to the river. Follow the river far enough and you come to… well, I don’t get the feeling they came from one of the townships. Someone tracked us down, they know we’re here. That leads me to believe we’re dealing with FERTS. I don’t have any proof of this, but think about it. We came to them, we took Zeta Circuit out from under their noses.” Rafaella cursed under her breath. “I don’t know how, but they found us.”

  “FERTS? But how?” asked Petra. “We were careful. We covered our tracks well, I’m sure of it.”

  “Not well enough,” said Rafaella. “It doesn’t matter now, it’s done. We don’t have a choice anymore. I don’t know how they found us, but we do know one thing. Someone gave us a warning and I intend to use it. Let’s take it that whoever this was, they were telling us to plan for an attack. I’m guessing that this attack is likely to happen tomorrow. Why else would it come tonight?”

  “We don’t know that, Raf,” said Bonni. “It could mean anything.”

  “Yeah it could. It could mean anything, it could mean nothing, but we’re not taking any chances. Synchronize your timepieces, we do this before first light. Kap, get the animals secured and out of the way. We don’t want any distractions. Everyone puts their cabin fires out tonight. No exceptions. I don’t care how cold it is. Got it?”

  The group nodded, glancing around at each other.

  “We don’t know much, Raf,” said Vern.

  “No, we don’t know, that’s the problem. But it’s all we’ve got to go on. If we’re ready and nothing comes of it, it’s better than the other way around.”

  “What if it really is nothing?” asked Ginny.

  “It it’s nothing, we should consider ourselves lucky. But I don’t think it is. Liam?” Liam looked up from the map, wide eyed. “You did well last time, even though I know it was hard for you to see what you saw once we got there. It was a lot to take in.” Rafaella studied his face. “Look, I won’t ask you for something you don’t want to do, but I think you’ve proved yourself to be ready. That is, if you think you’re ready for it. It’s dangerous, I won’t pretend otherwise.”

  “Liam, wait. Whatever it is, you don’t have to do this.” Petra stepped forward, putting a hand on Liam’s shoulder. She leaned in between Liam and Rafaella, face grim. “Raf, come on,” she whispered. “He’s too young for this, you know that. Find someone else.”

  “No,” said Rafaella. “This won’t work if we use someone who looks like they might be a real threat. No offence, Liam.”

  He looked up at Petra, patting her hand and shaking his head. He cleared his throat to speak. “No, it’s okay. I’m ready. Whatever it is, I want to do it.”

  Rafaella smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. See here?” She pointed to a spot on the map, tapping her finger and motioning for Liam to come closer. “Group one will be covering you. I won’t let you out of my sight, just remember that. If they’ve got crossbows or anything like that I want you out of there fast, no exceptions. That’s an order.”

  Liam nodded, focusing his eyes on the map.

  “Now listen carefully,” said Rafaella, pointing to a spot on the map. “This is where we begin...”

  – 25 –

  At first light Officer Tor began the FERTS requital, the Epsilon Internees answering in unison. 201 remained silent, mouthing the words.

  “We send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Cerberus and FERTS.”

  As the dutiful reply came, 201 caught the sight of High Training Room Officer Reno’s eyes, a cold glint residing within their depths. She furrowed her brow. He would not look at her, eyes scanning the rest of the Epsilon Fighters, making the necessary preparations. The weapons were hooked around his shoulder, bundled together in a wide leather casing. The shields lay at the ready, lined around the inside of the cart. As the Epsilon Fighters passed by 201, the words of the FERTS requital fresh in their minds, the only words that came to 201 were those words spoken by an unknown voice, the instructions handed in secret, the scroll tightly bound.

  Destroy it. Destroy it all.

  Something about the words did not fit her understanding. The words were clear, their meaning unmistakable, yet they made no sense to her. 201 watched Reno, looking for a sign that he would do as instructed. Reno was an Officer, one who was used to following orders, she thought. This was all she needed to know. She would find no answers from Reno himself.

  The Epsilon Fighters were dressed in full battle regalia. Their feet marched by, sheathed in cris-crossed bound leather. The Fighters wore leather breastplates, their finely muscled arms clenched around ornate leather shields. Their leather skirts were high and impractical, more suited to the theatrics of the Epsilon Games ring than an actual battle situation. 201 watched them pass, noting details of their armor, the way the stitching was joined at the sides, anything to take her mind off the ensuing battle.

  What do I know of battle, she thought. I am merely a trainee, suited for weapons duty.

  The battle armor was taken, one for each Epsilon Fighter, leaving only 201 to prepare for battle in her soiled Omega jumpsuit. She looked down at the material, running it through her fingers. The jumpsuit would offer no protection against the onslaught of the elements, let alone the tip of a weapon.

  I will surely be expired today, but I will not be expired within those walls.

  As the Epsilon Fighters stepped into the cage, Reno handed each of them their weapon of choice, nodding as they passed. When 201 moved to enter the cart Reno stopped her with his elbow. He handed over a spare spatha. Her chosen weapon, the bastard sword, had been handed out to another Epsilon Fighter, presumably one more deserving of such a weapon. 201 wondered if this was a sign that she would not be fortunate in this battle. She snorted, attempting a smile.

  “Stay to the back of the group, 201,” said Reno. “You’re not a Fighter yet. Don’t forget that.”

  201 nodded, ducking her head to enter the cart for the last part of their journey.

  She sat back against the bars, jolting from side to side as the horses began to lurch ahead. She heard Reno flick the reins as the cart began to pick up speed along the beginnings of a path.

  “What did Reno say to you?” 299 sat in the corner at the opposite end of the cart, her dark green eyes unwavering, fixed on 201’s face.

  “He told me to stay at the back of the group,” 201 said.

  “Perhaps he does not want you to be hurt? How sweet of our High Training Room Officer to do such a thing. Though I don’t see why. Your face is already a mess, a good fight would hardly make a difference.”

  201 stared back at 299. “No, that is not why. He said I was not a Fighter yet. That is why I must not be at the front of the group.”

  “Well he’s right, of course. That is exactly why I will lead. You are not a Fighter.” 299 grimaced at her. “You will never be a Fighter. You are nothing but a lowly weapons duty Internee. You have not tasted the adulation of the Epsilon Games ring like I have. You do not know what it is to earn the glory of FERTS.”

  “I do not wish to, either,” said 201.

  “How dare you speak of…”

  “I do hope you are fortunate today, 299.” 201 adjusted her spatha to fit it between her feet.

  “I have my chosen weapon.” 299 patted the blade of her scimitar, pricking her finger on the sharpened point and licking the blood from her fingertip. She grinned at 201, leaning back against the bars.

  “Well then.” 201 smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You a
re truly lucky.”

  The cart wound its way down the incline, doubling back towards the camp. The cart passed through shadowed caves, winding through a grove encasing a magnificent waterfall surrounded by smooth rocks carpeted in a thick covering of moss. 201 stared at the waterfall through the bars, mesmerized by the constant flow of the water rushing over rocks, splashing against moss amongst a beautiful array of wildflowers, sending a plume of sweet-smelling mist rising into the air.

  The horses slowed to a tentative pace as they approached through the valley, nearing the entrance that would take them to their destination.

  This is it. The camp.

  Twin cliffs loomed above them. The formations arched towards each other as if reaching out but never quite making contact. Vast, curved shadows from the archway fell over their cart, blocking out the distant heat from the first light of the morning sun.

  Akecheta.

  201 clenched her spatha, knuckles turning white against the hilt. This was not how it was supposed to end.

  299 looked over at 201. “Don’t tell me you are afraid, 201.” She laughed, shaking her head.

  201 raised her eyes to 299, her gaze piercing through her. “Yes. I am afraid. Of course I am afraid.” She raised an eyebrow at 299. “Aren’t you?”

  “I am not afraid. I am an Epsilon Fighter. I have earned the adulation of FERTS many times over. My achievements are venerated, and I have never failed to be victorious.” 299 chuckled. “No, I am not afraid.”

  “You should be,” said 201, staring through 299.

  “Do not listen to her, 299,” said 263. “She is just jealous that she did not get her chosen weapon. Or a shield.”

  “Or armor,” said 277. The Epsilon Fighters broke into laughter.

  “Quiet,” called Reno, pummeling his fist on the front of the cage.

  “Even now, he wishes to protect you,” muttered 299. “I do not understand. You’re not so pretty now, I made sure of that.”

  “You do not understand,” said 201. “He told you… he told us to be quiet so our approach will not be detected by the camp’s inhabitants,” said 201. “Do you wish to alert them to our presence, 299? No, I would think not.”

  299 stared at her scimitar, scratching her fingernail against the hilt. For once, 299 and the rest of the Epsilon Fighters were silent.

  The fighting creature lay secured in the carriage near Officer Tor’s boots, the leash pulled tightly around its neck. It rested, lulled by the movement of the cart wheels as they bounced along the dirt trail.

  201 watched, her heart beating faster as they ventured through the archway of the twin cliffs. A shadow fell across her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to visualize the symbol in her mind.

  Please. Please help me. Tell me what to do.

  There was no answer.

  The camp appeared deserted. No fires burned and no smoke rose from the chimneys of the various cabins dotted throughout the camp.

  The cart squeaked along the trail. Reno slowed the horses to a tentative shuffle, their hoofbeats softening on the damp ground to hide their approach.

  Reno turned to Officer Tor, fixing him with a pointed look.

  “I will go in first. When we reach the entrance, do as I do. Say as I say, and do not make any decisions of your own accord. Do you understand?”

  “I will follow your lead, Sir.”

  “No sudden movements, this is a serious matter. You are clear on this?”

  “I am clear, yes. You have my word.”

  Reno stopped the horses, handing the reins to Officer Tor.

  “Keep your eyes open.”

  Officer Tor nodded, gripping the reins, flicking them for the horses to proceed. The horses trotted, pulled back by Tor’s hold on the reins, hoofs landing on the uneven ground, the clicks sounding out of time.

  Reno strode before the cart, broadening the gap between himself and the horses. He unsheathed his spatha, adjusting his grip as he walked.

  Reno walked alone, his arms hanging loose by his sides. His black shirt was unfastened at the neck, untucked from his dark trousers. Sweat beaded at his temples but his face remained impassive.

  He sniffed the air, catching scent of something unfamiliar, a sweet, fragrant scent, bright and vibrant. No signs of activity emanated from the cabins and the fields were deserted, bathed in silence.

  He stood on the path at the heart of the camp, noting the tracks winding in all directions, leading to each of the cabins. The sound of his boots scuffed across the dirt path. Still, he heard nothing. Turning in a slow circle, he took in his surroundings, taking a deep breath.

  201 watched Reno’s movements. He seemed to follow no discernible pattern.

  What are you doing, Reno? Do you feel nothing?

  She gripped the bars, leaning forward. 299 jabbed her in the side with the handle of her scimitar. 299 narrowed her eyes at 201, a warning for her not to make a move.

  201 scanned the camp for any signs of movement but the camp seemed empty. There were no sounds, nothing to indicate any type of activity.

  But the camp did not feel empty. She could feel the essence of the camp’s inhabitants seeping out through the path and winding its way to her through the bars.

  Reno turned to face them, a brief gesture of his hand signalling for them to follow. It was clear that Reno had not sensed anything approaching what 201 had felt. She felt her face growing cold, a tingle beginning to make its way up her spine.

  201 lurched to the side, arms and elbows pushing against her as the Epsilon Fighters filed out, their sheathed weapons clicking against the door of the cage. The group moved forward, stepping in an orderly line, eyes darting to the front and sides. 201 took a deep breath, pushing herself through the door of the cart to land on the soft ground, glancing around for a possible route of escape. She caught the eye of Officer Tor at the helm. He stood, grinning at her, unraveling the leash for the fighting creature. The creature showed its teeth, its gold-tinged eyes following her movements as she unsheathed her spatha, following at the rear of the group of Epsilon Fighters.

  She had no armor or shield, feeling exposed as she stepped up her pace to catch up with the group, eyes darting to the sides once more for a possible escape route. She stepped forward, bumping into 263 as the group halted. The Epsilon Fighters at the head of the group had hesitated, their figures standing motionless. 201 looked ahead, trying to catch sight of what had caused them to stop. She edged forward, making her way through the group, attempting to see what had caught their attention.

  She felt a chill when she saw the first signs of movement.

  A figure appeared at the end of the path. He was young, perhaps only 15Y or so, and unarmed.

  Liam.

  His light hair hung over his ears and his blue eyes squinted in the morning mist. He walked with the enthusiastic, yet uncoordinated gait of one who has not yet fully grown into their body. He stopped when he spotted the group of Epsilon Fighters, his boots skidding, digging into the ground. His eyes widened as he stepped backwards, turning to run.

  Liam. No!

  “Get him!” cried 299, charging forward. 201’s heart sped up, her adrenaline surging as 263 followed with a shout, bringing the rest of the Epsilon Fighters along with her. 201 was caught in the rush of bodies, leather and shields bumping against her, knocking her off-balance.

  201 kicked and struggled, covering her head with her arms and crouching low to the ground. She pulled her limbs in towards herself, curling her body to make herself as small as possible. The Epsilon Fighters surged forward, boots trampling the ground, their cries echoing against the cliffs.

  201 lifted her head, fingers digging into the ground as she pushed herself into Fighter pose, her knees bent into a crouch. She watched as the Epsilon Fighters charged, heading for the lone figure.

  The figure stopped, turning to face them, a whistle jutting out from between his lips.

  His cheeks puffed out in a strong, steady exhale, his cheeks flushing with the effort. T
he sound, shrill and piercing, broke through the quiet of the morning, reverberating throughout the valley. It sounded like a bird, a night bird call perhaps, but this was no bird, it was a warning.

  A signal. The signal.

  “No!” Reno shouted.

  299 and the Epsilon Fighters chased Liam over the rise at the end of the path. He was unarmed, his small form helpless against the oncoming group. He looked up at the approaching Epsilon Fighters, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He backed away, edging down the path. 299 reached the top, charging down the slope towards the lone figure as 263 and the rest of the Epsilon Fighters fell in behind her.

  “No, 299!” Reno called, throwing his arms out but the group was too far from his grasp to be of any use. He turned, swiveling until he was facing 201.

  She looked up from her Fighter pose on the path, watching Reno's movements. She bent her knees, ankles flexing.

  299 pursued the lone figure, charging down the path on the other side of the rise. “For FERTS!” she cried.

  “For FERTS!” came the answering call, the clink of weapons filling the air as the Epsilon Fighters followed her lead.

  299 bellowed, raising her scimitar, the weapon that had brought her so much adulation in the Epsilon Games ring. But this was not the Epsilon Games.

  Liam stopped, turning on his heel to face them, his face pale, shining with perspiration. He stood, hands shaking at his sides. He stood as they approached, waiting for the Epsilon Fighters with their swords drawn, closing in on his position. Liam screamed, the sound piercing through the valley.

  299 skidded down the path, charging towards victory. She ran, dimly aware of a tug at her ankles.

  Liam fell to the ground, landing on his knees.

  “Now! Now!” he shouted.

  A rope pulled taut at the level of their feet, strong hands on either side of the tree tugging to hold the rope firmly in place. The Epsilon Fighters stumbled against each other, grappling for purchase.