Threading the Needle

by Joshua Palmatier

“There may be something else we can do now to defend the Hollow.”

  “I thought we’d considered everything.”

  “We did. But we didn’t have access to the ley before.”

  Allan crawled up to the edge of the low ridge, parting the grass before him so that he could see across the sunlit plains that stretched out toward the horizon to the west. Mountains rose in the distance, purple beneath the blue sky and above the yellow-green of the prairie. The road that the White Cloaks were following cut through the lightly rumpled land in a straight line heading slightly south of west. It had once been a caravan route, heavily traveled, until Baron Arent and Prime Augustus had created the Nexus and trade had switched from wagons and drivers to barges and pilots plying the ley lines between all of the major cities on the continent. Allan knew a little about the lands to the west of Erenthrall—the village of Canter, his home, lay in the foothills of the mountains—but not what lay to the south. The main ley line that connected Erenthrall to Tumbor ran along the river. He knew another ley line branched off from that toward the Demesnes and the Western Peninsula. But the ley lines were too dangerous to be used for transportation since the Shattering.

  He tried to recall everything he knew about the old roads and exactly where they ran. The roads around Canter were as familiar as the wells and springs, creeks and streams that dotted and snaked through the grassland and the hills, at least close to his old village, but Allan couldn’t remember anything of significance about the routes here.

  A sudden barked command echoed up from the plains. His gaze snapped back to the White Cloaks and their small entourage of wagons and guardsmen. They’d reached a section of the road a good distance away, far enough that Allan had to squint to see one of the stone wayposts jutting up out of the ground there, old enough to be tilted to one side. The road must branch. It was difficult to tell from Allan’s vantage.

  The wagons slowed. He couldn’t pick out individuals, but he knew based on the last few days of watching that Kara and the others would be at the center, surrounded by guards, a single wagon in front of them, two behind. Dylan would be in the front wagon. At dusk, the group would halt and make camp, Dylan forced to stand and walk or hobble around the wagons, the others tied up near one of the fires built by the White Cloaks. Watchers were placed around the circled wagons, close enough they could see each other, attentive enough that Allan knew he couldn’t risk sneaking past them. Everyone would be fed then, and the captured group given pallets to rest on. They slept in the darkness, beneath the stars.

  But it was far too early for a halt today. The sky was clear, although storm clouds roiled to the south, lit occasionally from within by lightning. Much farther west, hints of an auroral front glittered, although it could have just been heat waves. Almost directly south, the white light of the distortion over Tumbor burned, still threatening to quicken like the one in Erenthrall.

  Allan fidgeted as the group continued to hesitate at the waypost. If they continued on a mostly western track, he’d be able to follow them for another day or two without losing track of Artras, Glenn, and the others. But if they turned farther south—

  He spat a curse as the group below began angling southwest, then watched in frustration as they faded into the distance. They were moving almost directly away from Artras and the wagon headed toward the Hollow.

  He hesitated, then stood and trotted down the back end of the ridge, breaking into a ground-eating stride as he reached flatter land, heading toward Glenn and the others.

  He needed to tell them that the White Cloaks had angled farther south.

  And that he still had no idea where they were headed, or how to save Kara and the others.

  Sixteen

  “HAVE YOU SEEN ANYTHING?”

  Kara scraped her spoon across the bottom of the plate in an attempt to pick up the last few dregs of gravy without looking up at Adder. He’d spoken in barely a whisper, so that the White Cloak enforcers who stood no more than ten paces behind them, near the edges of the circled wagons, couldn’t overhear. They’d learned to keep certain conversations quiet and tried to be as circumspect as possible when they talked. She knew if she glanced up she’d find Adder half turned away, washing their dishes in the small bucket they were provided for the task.

  “Nothing.” She shoved the gravy into her mouth. She regretted eating the bread so quickly. Gravy was always better soaked into bread, even the passable but dry biscuits the White Cloaks provided them.

  She contemplated licking the plate.

  “Tim and Carter haven’t seen anything either.”

  She handed her plate to Adder with a broken smile, then sank back onto her pallet.

  Adder finished washing the plates, handing the crude clay disks back to the enforcer who’d brought them their food, along with the bucket of now-dirty water. Kara listened to the familiar sounds of Adder settling onto his pallet, situated close enough to Kara’s so they could speak, but not so close as to arouse suspicion.

  “They would have attacked by now, before we turned south.”

  The words were too close to what Kara had been thinking.

  Adder remained silent, shifting his position on the pallet a few times before sitting up. He felt around the ground for a moment, only half-visible in the firelight, then held something up in one hand before tossing it over his shoulder and settling back down.

  “Stupid stones.”

  Kara snorted. She rolled onto her side, her back to the fire, head resting on an outstretched arm, her face in shadow. She could see beneath the wagon behind their group. One enforcer stood at the end of the wagon on their side, but beyond, at least twenty paces into the night, she knew there were at least two enforcers watching the plains.

  “Why didn’t they come get us?”

  “There are only five of them, if all of them survived. We’re being held by five White Cloaks and nearly forty enforcers. They’re outnumbered. And we have no allies in Erenthrall.”

  “I thought the Tunnelers were allies.”

  “So did I.”

  “We should never have trusted them.”

  “We had no choice.”

  She let her anger churn for a while, but slowly her thoughts returned to the White Cloaks. They hadn’t spoken to them except to give orders to halt, rest, or move since Erenthrall. “Where are they taking us?”

  “The Needle. Still no idea what it is?”

  “I thought it might be something in Tumbor, but if it were, we should have turned directly south at that waypost. We’re still heading west.”

  Adder shifted position, settling into what Kara now recognized as his sleeping position. “I noticed. Whatever it is, it’s related to the Wielders. They’re the ones that talk about it the most. The enforcers barely speak of it, except as a destination.”

  Kara scoured her memory for anything she had learned at the Wielders’ college or during her tenure at the various nodes in Erenthrall that dealt with something called the Needle, but she couldn’t recall anything. Near her, Adder’s breath evened out. Mind restless, she cursed the Primes for their damn secrecy while worry nagged at her over the fate of Allan and the others. She hoped they were safely on their way back to the Hollow, if they weren’t still attempting to rescue them.

  But if they couldn’t count on Allan to save them, how were they going to save themselves?

  When Kara’s eyes popped open the next morning, the question leaped forward, still unanswered. She listened to the camp being taken apart, the enforcers calling out orders as the spits and supplies were packed up and shoved back onto the wagons. Three of the White Cloaks were arguing tersely at the back of the lead wagon, Iscivius listening with a stern face while Okata gestured at Irmona to make his point. None of them looked happy.

  “No!” Okata barked, loud enough to be heard by nearly everyone. Enforcers paused all around them. “He will take credit for what
we’ve done. You know him.”

  “Father will know.”

  “How? By divine intervention?”

  “He’ll know because I’ll inform him! I, at least, have his ear.”

  “Enough.” Iscivius glanced around, and the enforcers who’d paused to listen in hastily picked up where they’d left off. His gaze ended on Okata. “Father will not care who found them, or how. He will only be concerned with what they can do and how they can further our cause. That should be your only concern as well. The others will intercept us—”

  His words were lost as he turned, his back to Kara, and began walking toward the front of the wagon, Okata at his side, Irmona trailing behind.

  Kara remained still, searching for an opportunity.

  Nothing presented itself. Within minutes, one of the enforcers nudged her with a foot from behind. “Wake up. Time to get moving.”

  She rolled over as he moved on to wake Tim and Carter. Another enforcer was already helping Aaron walk Dylan around the small camp. The Wielder still limped, but each day he could walk farther and put more weight on his knee.

  Kara sat up, Adder suddenly standing before her. He reached down and helped pull her to her feet, handing her a biscuit. She took it gratefully and bit into it.

  “Are these getting harder?”

  “Definitely drier.”

  Kara stretched. “I need a bath and a change of clothes. These reek.”

  “Don’t get too personal now.” Someone shouted from the opposite side of the wagons and his expression sobered. “They’re on edge this morning.”

  “Did you overhear the White Cloaks this morning? They don’t trust each other, or the enforcers. It sounds like there are some rivalries in their ranks.”

  “They trust the enforcers, they just don’t want them to overhear their arguments. But I agree that not all of the White Cloaks are friends with each other.”

  “It sounded like they expect to run into someone today, or at least soon. We need to escape before that happens, whether Allan and the others are out there to help us or not.”

  “We can’t. Dylan can barely walk. We’d never make it.”

  “We should leave Dylan behind.”

  Adder met her steady gaze and she realized he’d already considered the option, had probably thought of it as soon as they’d left Erenthrall, but had kept quiet.

  “You already agree.”

  “If we hope to have any chance at all, then yes, we need to leave Dylan behind.”

  Kara found she couldn’t look Adder in the eyes any longer. She stared out at the rolling grasslands around them, its details slowly emerging as the sun rose higher above the eastern horizon.

  “I’ll talk to him, explain it—”

  “No! I’ll explain it. He deserves that much at least.”

  She scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand as she broke away from Adder without looking at him. He didn’t attempt to follow her. She halted abruptly in front of Aaron, the younger Hollower boy helping Dylan climb up into the back of the wagon.

  “Let me watch over Dylan today, Aaron.”

  Aaron glanced toward the enforcer watching them, then nodded, pulling away. Kara swallowed the last of her biscuit, the bread a leaden lump at the base of her throat, then cupped her hands so that Dylan could use them as a step up into the wagon.

  “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  He heaved his ass up into the wagon with her help and shoved himself toward the back, situating himself against a crate as Kara hoisted herself up after him. The enforcer eyed both of them, but one of the White Cloaks strode by, catching his attention. The White Cloak—Okata, Kara saw when he turned—checked the other two wagons, then waved a hand toward the front of the group. “Ready!”

  The wagon jolted up onto the smoother stone of the caravan route and the enforcer stepped to one side, out of sight.

  Dylan said immediately, “You have to chance it.”

  “Chance what?”

  “Escape! You have to try. You and the others.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll have to leave me behind. I know that.” He gestured toward his knee in anger. “The damn Rats made certain of that, didn’t they? It didn’t help when I twisted it again falling from the litter when the Wolves attacked.” He slumped back against his crate. “I realized I’d have to stay behind days ago.”

  “We thought maybe Allan was following us, that he and the others would get all of us out, but we’re running out of time.”

  “I heard them talking about meeting up with another group of White Cloaks. They expect to run into them before nightfall.”

  “You overheard more than I did.” She reached out and grabbed his forearm, squeezed it. “If at all possible, we’ll come back for you.”

  He placed his free hand over hers. “Don’t. If you get a chance to run, take it, and don’t look back. Save the Hollow. They need you more than they need me.”

  “I wish everyone would stop saying that! The Hollow needs everyone—every last person—if it’s going to survive. No one is more important than any other. I know I’m some sort of Prime Wielder in Artras’ eyes, but she’s wrong. I may have been headed toward the black jacket, may have eventually even received one, but it didn’t happen. The Nexus shattered, which meant I never got trained. So I’m only as good as the rest of you.”

  Dylan gripped her hand tighter. “No, you’re not. You’re stronger. And not just in manipulating the ley.”

  Kara pulled her hand free. The enforcer returned and she choked back her response. She leaned back into the crates again instead. But even with her anger over Dylan’s unshakable belief in her—a belief she knew had been reinforced by Artras—she couldn’t come up with a way to escape that would save Dylan as well.

  Two hours later, when Iscivius called for a rest, she still had nothing. As she slid toward the back of the wagon, Dylan caught her arm and even with two enforcers watching said, “You have to chance it. For me.”

  She couldn’t respond.

  She hopped from the back of the wagon and let the enforcers lead her to where a stream passed beneath the road. The bridge had been shoved askew by flooding waters in the past, not quite lining up perfectly with the road. To either side, stone steps led down to the edges of the stream, the water clear and cold and refreshing. It dribbled down Kara’s chin, and she shivered as it slid beneath her sweat-stained shirt. She sluiced water over her head, let it soak into her hair, her clothes, getting in three large handfuls of it before the enforcers watching protested and dragged her from the water’s edge. They shoved her toward the back of the wagon, where Adder stood.

  “Was that necessary?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Adder’s gaze flicked toward their guards. “They’re not watching. Have you talked to Dylan?”

  “He’d already figured out he’d have to be left behind if we tried to escape.”

  “Good.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “It’s necessary. We’ll do what we can to get him back. As soon as I see an opportunity, Tim and I will distract them. That’s when you, Carter, and Aaron make a break for it. Head out onto the plains to the west if you can. If we get separated, meet back at the waypost we passed a few days ago. I’ve already told Aaron and Carter.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Adder started to turn, then halted. “Can you help distract them, using the ley? Like they did in Erenthrall with the Wolves?”

  She stretched out her senses, reaching for the ley lines that might be present near them. “I might be able to wield the ley like that, but not here. It isn’t that strong.”

  “Then it will be up to Tim and me.”

  Adder drifted away slightly. When Tim caught her eye, he nodded, once, before turning to one side. Tim, the youngest of
the Dogs, didn’t seem as young to her now as he had before they’d left the Hollow.

  Iscivius ordered the wagons back into motion. Kara headed toward Dylan’s wagon, but before she could jump up onto its bed, Adder caught her arm and shook his head. Dylan motioned with one hand for her to stay back, the gesture hidden from the enforcers.

  Kara fell back to join the others.

  They followed the road the rest of the morning, the enforcers and White Cloaks never giving them any decent opportunity for Adder to seize upon, not even when they halted for a midday meal of cured meat, cheese, and the ubiquitous biscuits. It felt as if there were even more enforcers watching over them for this meal than in the past, all of them tense, but then she realized that their tension was focused outward, as if they were expecting an attack from outside the group. They were closing their ranks. She recalled what Dylan had overheard between Iscivius, Irmona, and Okata, that another group would be joining up with them, perhaps that evening.

  They were running out of time.

  After the wagons trundled into motion again, the group plodding along behind, Carter approached her, walking beside her for a long stretch in silence. A few times he drew a breath, as if about to ask her something, but he’d hold it a few moments, then exhale slowly.

  Eventually, he shook his head and drifted away, looking angry and miserable.

  Confused, Kara nearly called him back.

  But then suddenly Adder dodged left. One moment, he was walking along behind Dylan’s wagon a few paces in front of her, the next he took two steps to the side, body hunched down, and slammed into one of the enforcers. The man grunted as Adder drove him to the ground, those nearby, including Kara, brought up short, startled. Dust churned upward as they grappled with each other, rolling to one side, and then Adder landed two hard punches to the man’s face, crushing his nose. He cried out as blood spurted, hands flying upward—

  And then Adder had hold of the man’s sword. He drew it with a snick as he spun into a crouch over the enforcer’s body. It had all happened in an eerie silence punctuated only by grunts of effort and the scrapes and huffs of the scuffle.