Breathing heavily, Rune dropped the prisoner, and climbed off of him. The bald man slid another step down, his head and one arm hanging. It had all happened so fast, I didn't have time to react. The attacker had been dispatched, and Rune hadn't even used his fire.
“One of your friends,” Rune said, giving Kyle a dirty look. I took a step toward him, but he graciously dismissed me. A corner of his mouth curled up like he found my concern endearing. “I'm fine. He just really wanted someone to help him get some sleep.” He wiped his jaw with the back of one gloved hand and climbed back up the stairs to the front of the group.
I wondered if the prisoner had gone after Rune because he was a Dragoon, or simply because he was ahead of the rest of us.
A few feet below the top of the steps, we found a human-sized tunnel through the wall at our right. It broke partially into the parallel staircase, letting in the light of the other passage before disappearing into the darkness beneath the fortress. The burrow certainly hadn't been there when we'd come down.
“The Shift,” Rune said surveying the opening. “Bad choice. They'll succumb to exhaustion before reaching the other side. If they pace themselves and the tunnel is discovered, they'll have to wall themselves in. They'll only live as long as their oxygen lasts.”
I couldn't imagine a worse death. If I were trapped in the dirt and rocks like that, I'd spend every last second digging, fighting and clawing to get out. The imagery was not comforting and I shivered, rolling my shoulders as if that'd help to get the dark thoughts out of my head.
“This is it,” Rune said, looking up at the mouth of the hall. “The moment where we live for our luck, or die for our decisions.”
The muted white noise of a place coming to life in preparation of morning greeted us. And so did a force of Dragoons.
C hapter 40: A Cormorant Dragoon
The Dragoons crowded the entrance to the stone stairwell, blocking out the light with their combined mass. Blue light colored the lower halves of their diverse faces and tinted their identical armor. They were like a dark cloud, and I had a feeling it was about to rain.
“Cormorant Thayer.” A man's voice rang out from above.
I went rigid. An untapped well of electrical power was swelling in my chest. I could feel it there, begging to slip out of my fingertips, pleading to turn the little light I'd created into a maelstrom. Emotions were running high. I didn't feel very much like myself. That scared me. I wasn't a fighter. I was just an occasionally obnoxious kid from Rivermarch. The Spark made things too easy.
There, in my mind, lay Calvin Cale, splayed on the ground at my feet. I could feel it all over again like it had just happened. Realizing what I'd done was the worst part. The guilt had devoured me and left me to burn in the shame of reality. I'd run as quickly as I could, across the school grounds, to get help. I never wanted to feel that way again.
If there was going to be a fight now, I would not be the one to make the first move.
I stared up at the imposing force, pinning us in place, and held my defensive responses at bay. I breathed as steadily as I could, rhythmically, through my nose. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.
“I'm here,” Rune said, climbing the remaining steps. His posture exuded confidence, but it always did. When he reached the top, he turned to face us.
I could almost hear Dylan calling Rune a puppet and chastising me for trusting one of the Prince's tools. He would have surely believed that Rune was turning us in.
My faith in him stubbornly refused to waver. The whole world was spinning backwards, everything I'd believed was being turned over. If Rune betrayed us now, I'd lose my mind. I needed one constant. Just one. I needed it to be him.
“They're here to get us out. Hide in plain sight,” Rune told us.
“So, what you're saying is,” Kyle said warily. “We're going to go with them, and they aren't going to murder us?”
The Dragoons beyond Rune exchanged glances with one another. There may have been an exchange of some very subtle smiles.
“No,” Rune said steadily. “We aren't going to murder you.”
Kyle exhaled, puffing his cheeks out.
“We have to move,” Sterling urged. Professor Block was leaning heavily on him and looked as though he might lose consciousness. Kyle swooped in to support our former teacher's other arm, and just like that, we moved into the ranks of the Dragoons.
There were thirteen of them. The group split as we moved among them, and formed an unbroken triangle around us. The distance they stood from one another could have been measured with a ruler. Each individual functioned like an extension of a greater whole, with mathematical precision.
Rune was beside me, and Kyle, Block and Sterling were just behind us. All of us together were guided to move in an arrow formation. It was all deliberate, and I hadn't even noticed until we were already moving.
The hall of the records room was devoid of people. I craned between the bodies of our escorts but saw no sign of a threat.
“Is this your squadron?” I whispered to Rune. The unfamiliar word rolled oddly off my tongue, but I was careful to pronounce it properly.
“Not all of them. Some are like me.”
I wanted to ask him what that meant. I didn't think he was only talking about his military station. Did they suffer from the natural human need to have emotional connections? Had they met crazy girls from far away places? Girls they were willing to protect with their lives? Great. I was already a wreck and now I was making myself a sentimental basket case. All I could think of was how easy it would be to wrap my arms around Rune's V shaped torso, and how inappropriate it would be. I thought about him kissing me in the secret room. My heart ached.
No one had spoken again until we passed beneath the set of familiar arches that opened into the grand hall. The white marble room was well lit, and nearly blinding to my unadjusted eyes. With armored Dragoons all around me, it was like I walked within the protection of a shell. I looked up at the round, open skylight, so many stories above us. It was still dark outside. The sun wouldn't rise for at least another hour.
“This is it,” Rune said under his breath. “Brace yourselves.” He broke through the front of our formation to lead at the head of our group. I figured that a group led by a Cormorant was more credible than one without.
The great hall was less crowded than usual, but a steady stream of soldiers moved in and out together, and Dragoon sentries were posted at all of the entrances and exits. There were Commanders too, their faces and hands mutilated with metallic growths. For the moment, they all seemed too busy to notice us, all but one.
He was on the balcony above us, a bald Dragoon with a short beard. From his position, he could see us clearly. He was tracking our movements with his eyes, I could tell by the angle that he was looking down.
I blinked once, and the bearded man was gone.
Now, a passing Commander or two gave us a harder look over. A few Dragoons stared in our direction. Was I imagining it? Our shoes tapped on the perfectly clean floor until the sound filled my ears. We were in the center of the hall. The huge ever-open doors to the yard, and the raised portcullis beyond were just ahead. I wanted to make a run for it, just sprint out as fast as I could. I'd been in this position before, and even so close, I knew a million and one things could go wrong.
We were mere steps away from the open doors. Gusts of air, frigid from the absence of sunlight, met my face and chilled my nose.
I could hear Professor Block wheezing with exhaustion behind me. I was wondering if anyone else would notice, or if we'd actually make it out, when a colossal boom erupted from the ground level of the installment. The floor shook violently and the many sets of archways that paralleled two sides of the great hall spewed gouts of dirt, dust, and stone rubble. It was the largest explosion yet, and I nearly lost my footing.
Any curiosity we’d earned was gone now. A terrible kind of silence followed the explosion, one that I knew would have devastating consequences
. We were still walking. Our Dragoon escort would not waste such a distraction.
I looked back, turning and angling my head to see between Sterling, Block, Kyle and our protective ring of Dragoons. The soldiers in the great hall were ducking for cover, and shouting orders between one another. I could hear the raw cries that bounced off of the walls, a grinding sound, and the heavy thunder of collapsing rock. Dragoons began to pour back into the fortress, while a few fled out for reinforcements.
“North and south ground floor!”
“Corridor 21 south is completely blocked!”
“We have a cave in!”
“Get men down here, now!”
“Move!”
“We need someone with the Shift, now!”
“Any sight of enemies?”
“The children's grounds have been destroyed! No, no way in!”
There was so much yelling, I could barely pick one call out from the rest.
The children's grounds? I reeled like I'd been struck. All of those young Dragoons in training were probably dead, all because of this stupid war. There wasn't time for me to linger on the notion.
“Go!” Rune commanded our Dragoons. He didn't need to keep his voice down anymore. We were as good as invisible. And we were outside.
I took a deep breath of fresh air. It was freezing, but I was already numb. The sensation of at least having escaped from the oppressive bulk of the installment fortress gave me a boost of morale so strong it hummed at my core. I could have laughed and cried.
The outer, packed-dirt yard was lined with large, empty automobiles, massive mobile contraptions that nearly looked like guns, and dark shadows made deeper by the city lights beyond the fortified wall.
Skeletons of horses burst from those shadows, letting the blackness cling and snap onto their forms until they appeared as solid as flesh and blood animals. Dragoons met with their warhorses and galloped off to make a circuit of the grounds. The portcullis was just ahead. It remained open.
“Come on, Professor, we're almost out,” Sterling urged him.
The older man groaned and coughed. “I'm... trying.”
We were nearly there. The iron teeth of the protective gate, hung above us. As I passed beneath them, I wondered what would happen if they snapped down on us, like the jaws of a hungry monster.
That was it. We were out. The warm embrace of Cape Hill's city lights welcomed us. I could see the harbor glittering out on the water, like it was lit up by fireflies. The Dragoons broke away from us, letting us go without a word. Some of them burst to action, as though they were responding to the sabotage.
Rune was behind us now, just below the gate. I found myself smiling at him until a grating noise, raspy and delicate, powerful and ugly called out over the clamor.
“Cormorant Thayer,” Margrave Hest said from somewhere within the installment yard. “To me. Forget what you're doing.”
The smile slipped away. “No,” I whispered.
Rune's back went rigid. Was this when he'd tell me again that he was already dead? That it was too late for him to survive this story? His eyes were filled with apology. “I'll be at the harbor by dawn. I promise. I'll be there.”
C hapter 41: The Dead of Morning
Florian's hooves clattered on the road rhythmically. His legs stretched out in a steady loping canter. My horse was powerful, fluid, strong. So different from me.
What was I? Selfish. An idiot. A fool. I was a terrible daughter and a worse friend. Dad was the perfect father and I still continued to run off on him. My parents fought because of me. Ruby was trapped in Breakwater because of me. Rune's existence was confused because of me. Maybe he would have been better off if we'd never met. Maybe he'd live longer.
Dylan might have been right. It really could have been my fault he was forced to be a prisoner, losing his life, his standing, and his respect.
Calvin was put in the hospital because of me, there was no doubt about that.
I was the source of it all.
We rode through Cape Hill in the dark of pre-morning, bound for the harbor. Dim electrical street lanterns swung from their posts, lighting the way. We'd put Professor Block on Dylan's horse, since it was still in the stables, and Sterling rode close to him, in case he lost his balance. My former teacher was slouched in the saddle, but didn't fall. Kyle rode harder than the rest of us, like nothing could get him out of Cape Hill fast enough. Florian wouldn't have it, and made sure that he was ahead of the mare by a nose.
The round, heavy train warmed its engine in the station. Cars with headlamps rolled lazily down the street. Other riders, by carriage, wagon, or saddle, set themselves sleepily into motion. Only the fishermen were as alert as we were, hustling to their jobs at the docks.
A frigid wind gusted up from the cape waters and the few people I passed huddled into their coats or blew into their hands for warmth. I envied them. Cozying up near a fireplace, with a mug of cocoa in hand would probably be enough to cheer them up, but not me.
I'd left Rune behind a second time. Why did he have to involve himself in smuggling weapons and painting on the walls of the installment? He was in enough trouble that he didn't think he could possibly get out of it. Why couldn't he let it go?
I heard Dylan's voice in the back of my mind, some part of my subconscious urging me to listen to him. “Because he's the Prince's puppet. You have no idea what he's doing. Leave him.”
“Yeah?” I said to myself. “And where are you right now, Dylan?”
The memory of Rune's words echoed in my head. I'm already dead.
My dad and Margrave Hest had both told me some chillingly similar wisdom. That one person made all the difference in making or breaking the greater machine. If Haven was that machine, had I already broken it by falling out of line and making a mess of my life?
Reaching the harbor, and trotting down the lane that took us to our mooring was surreal. No one stopped us. No one pursued. Seeing the Flying Fish, her deck lights making the copper hull glow, set me afire with a wild, hysterical relief. The wide boarding plank was down, readily awaiting us.
We dismounted and brought the horses aboard in silence. Block barely managed to get down without falling.
“I c-can hardly move m-my arms and l-legs,” Block said through chattering teeth.
“You need to get warm,” Sterling told him.
“That went infinitely better than I thought it would,” Kyle said, giving his mare a pat on the neck. “Aside from freezing in our saddles anyway.”
Carmine joined us on the main deck and brought a different sort of fire with her.
“What in any imaginable hells do you think you're doing?” she snapped at me, barely keeping her voice quiet.
She snatched Florian's reins from my hand, thrust them at Kyle, clamped me by the arm and wrenched me in the direction of the aft cabins and cargo hold.
I was jarred into shock, unready for an assault from a friend.
It was about the weapons. She'd found out what our cargo was.
Carmine is risking her neck because of me. Add another name to the list.
“I can explain.”
“Damn right you will,” she said, flinging open the cabin door. “Kyle gave me your message, so I agreed, like any good ferryman. These huge containers were loaded aboard, and I thought, well, I'll make a nice profit now won't I? So, after they left, I got curious, and I checked the containers. The price should suit the product. If all of Breakwater donated their life savings to Common-Lord Axton, their combined coin still would not be able to cover what you've done.”
We went past the horse stalls to the broad opening of the greater cargo room. Five huge wooden crates crowded the sides of the hold. Each of their tops had been swung open on their hinges. But the room was choked with something else. On the crates, around them, within them, were Breakwater's stolen children.
Chapter 42: Lina Thayer
They were all here, the ones with Abilities, and the ones without. I could tell them apart by the
ir clothing. The Dragoon initiates wore simple, dark uniforms. The others wore the clothes they were taken in. Few resources, if any, had been offered to the latter group. Many of them were emaciated, sick. Some of them slept, curled up in groups, but each and every one of them looked happy. They played quiet games, whispered to each other, and covered their mouths with their hands when they laughed.
“I wanted to turn them out. Send them back,” Carmine said. “But what kind of a hypocrite would I be? They appear to know that their lives depend on them being quiet and staying hidden. I've never seen children take anything so seriously, but if I catch so much as one above decks or screaming, I'll throw them overboard myself. I'll get them to Breakwater, if that's what you want, but I'm not dying for them.”
“Thank you, Carmine,” I said, shaken.
“Don't thank me yet.”
She stalked away, leaving me in the crowded cargo hold with the children.
Their joy and hope were infectious. I'd let myself go colder than the frigid wind after finding out the truth about my mother, but here was a little light. Maybe I had messed up my life, but if I hadn't been here, these kids wouldn't have had an escape route.
A few of them looked familiar. I saw the boy from the platform in the installment, sitting side by side with the little blonde girl who had fought to help him. There were faces I'd seen in Breakwater, while I was Dylan's prisoner. Children who'd played with Lina Thayer in the stables.
“Miss Katelyn.” A boy of about thirteen had stood and climbed around the younger children to reach me. He barely dared to use his voice at all. “Do you remember me?”
He was skinny and tan, with wavy brown hair and rich brown eyes. The Dragoon recruit uniform hung off of him, begging the question of whether it fit when he'd first arrived. I did remember him. He was the boy who'd worked at the stables in Breakwater. He was there when Dylan had first given me Florian.
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