There was a brief silence, then the click and whir of the lock’s mechanism. The doors opened.
Emily blinked against the sudden illumination. The silhouettes of half a dozen guards were framed in the doorway against a backdrop of dim light that stung her eyes. The dim shape of the wraith stood off to one side, just beyond the light.
For a moment, no one moved. The guards simply stood in dumb astonishment. Time seemed suspended.
Emily was the first to act. She charged forward, hoping that surprise and momentum would allow her to break through their ranks. It wasn’t any different than trying to get through another team’s defensemen on the ice.
She swung her sword across her body as a brace and plowed into the men. They shouted in surprise, and one fell over his own feet in his efforts to get out of the way.
She heard Corbbmacc shouting at her as he followed her lead and charged forward.
One of the guards caught a fistful of her hair, but she twisted away. Pain tore through her scalp as several strands parted company with her head, but she was still free. She ran along the narrow walkway toward the stairs they’d climbed up from the main platform, the smack of her boots on the concrete echoing through the empty station. Behind her, she heard the men cursing, the wraith hissing, and Corbbmacc’s cry of pain and dismay.
She skidded to a stop at the top of the steps and whirled around, one hand coming up to swipe her hair out of her face.
Two of the guards had hold of Corbbmacc, and a third was wrestling his sword away from him. Corbbmacc was fighting ferociously, but the guards had numbers on their side.
The other three guards had collected their wits and were starting toward her, though they were slower than she was in their heavier armor.
“Go!” Corbbmacc shouted at her as the guards closed in. “Tell Paige!”
Emily stood paralyzed for a second longer, indecisive. She did not want to leave Corbbmacc behind. Still, if she was able to get away, Paige would know what had happened and could send someone in to rescue Corbbmacc. But she’d have to get away first.
She turned and flew down the stairs, her feet slipping and sliding on the loose ash that covered everything. She leapt down the last few steps and tore across the platform. She couldn’t get back up to the window; it was too high. Even if she could, there wasn’t time. She’d have to find another way out. That shouldn’t be hard. She should be able to just follow the tracks.
She could hear the sound of the guards behind her, but it was impossible to tell if they were gaining amidst the echoes all around her. As she reached the yellow line that ran alongside the tracks, she risked a look back. The guards were just reaching the bottom of the stairs. They pounded toward her, but their armor was definitely slowing them down. If she could just get out of the station, she could outrun them. Speed had always been her greatest asset on the ice. She was made for it.
Moonlight filled the opening in the wall at the end of the tracks. As she approached it, she jumped down between the rails, having to slow her pace a little so as not to trip over the loose and broken ties. She was almost there. If she could just get outside…
The tracks led through a great stone arch. She could feel the cool breeze against her face and see the soot and ash that swirled just beyond it.
She passed through, sure that she could get away now. She glanced back over her shoulder. The guards weren’t chasing her anymore. They were standing on the platform at the edge of the tracks watching her run. Fear bloomed in her gut. Why weren’t they…
An arm, large and hard as steel, caught her around her chest. The impact drove the air from her lungs, and she felt herself being lifted off her feet and then thrown down on the ground between the rails. There was a sickening thud in her ears as the back of her head connected with one of the broken ties. Painfully bright points of light exploded before her eyes, and the world began to go gray. Her sword flew out of her hand and rang off the metal rail as it clattered away. She struggled to draw air, her heart racing and her lungs burning.
Slowly, her surroundings swam back into focus. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, even as her lungs screamed for air.
A figure stood over her, huge and black in the moonlight. He planted a boot between her breasts, pinning her helplessly to the ground. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going anywhere now. She gasped, taking in a mouthful of ash and coughing. The movement caused a bright bolt of pain to lance through her head, and tears streamed from her eyes. She felt her gorge rising, and she swallowed hard.
I won’t be sick. I won’t.
From farther down the tracks, she heard the guards that had been chasing her moving slowly closer, jeering and laughing. They took their time, not hurrying.
She’d almost gotten away.
…Almost…
“Nice catch,” one of the guards called out to the man who loomed over her as they drew near. “Pretty little fish.”
The man grunted and dug the heel of his boot harder into her ribs. She bit down on her tongue, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. She tasted blood and started coughing again.
The others gathered around her in a loose circle, and the one who’d caught her removed his boot from her chest. Against the dim moonlight, she couldn’t see any of them clearly. They were all only darker shadows in the night.
“Don’t just stand there,” the one to her left snapped. It was the man with the strange hybrid accent; the one the wraith had called captain. “Let’s get her back to the other one.”
The guard on her right bent down and grabbed her under her arms and roughly pulled her to her feet. She swayed, wheezing and spluttering as more ash and soot filled her lungs and fresh pain went through her skull.
Ten years playing hockey, and never a serious concussion until I’m being chased from an abandoned train station by a ghost and the Queen of Hearts’s evil guards, she thought incoherently. Her vision doubled. She blinked rapidly, and the world snapped back together again.
Two of the men took hold of her arms on either side, and they half marched, half dragged her back into the station. There was a dull ringing in her ears. Nausea clawed at her insides, burning them like molten lead. She swallowed hard again.
The other guards were waiting for them beside the tracks. Corbbmacc stood in their midst, his arms bound behind his back and blood dripping from his chin. His face paled when he caught sight of her, and he looked away.
She was lifted off her feet and passed up onto the platform to the other guards who carried her roughly over to stand beside Corbbmacc.
As one of them jerked her hands behind her back and began winding rope around her wrists, she caught a glimpse of the wraith over Corbbmacc’s shoulder, hovering silently in the shadows.
She thought of the Wraith, the one working with Paige, and wondered if it had connections with the others of its kind in Hellsgate. Perhaps it could orchestrate some escape for them.
Emily’s stomach sank lower. That was all fine and well, but it assumed that Paige figured out what had happened to them. No one had known that they were doing anything other than getting the food supplies. She remembered Corbbmacc’s words back at the safe house: if Paige knew, she’d absolutely forbid it. Now Emily understood why.
“Let’s get moving,” the captain said. Several of the guards surrounded Corbbmacc and began ushering him through the station. Another hoisted Emily up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She hung, her head pointed at the floor and throbbing dully. Her stomach roiled.
“Pretty li’l thing, ain’tcha,” he crooned.
Emily said nothing. She made her body as still as she could, wishing for this nightmare to end.
The guard grabbed her hips and shifted her weight on his shoulder, hurrying to catch up with his companions. The movement pulled on Emily’s jerkin, and she felt something slide over her chest.
She watched helplessly as the little drawstring pouch with the chessmen dropped from her pocket and l
anded with a soft thud on the floor in her captor’s shadow.
As they turned a corner and entered a narrow hall, she caught a glimpse of the wraith kneeling down to examine it.
A despair so deep it threatened to drown her crashed over her then. Those pieces were the only clue she had as to what the hell was going on, and now she was unlikely to ever see them again.
They passed through a small door and out into the cool night air. In the distance, she could see the flickering red flames of the fires that burned ceaselessly in the mills—the red eyes of Hellsgate.
She heard a thud and a grunt that sounded like it had come from Corbbmacc, and then the guard carrying her tossed her carelessly on top of him in the back of a tiny wagon. They were nearly nose to nose, and in the moonlight, she could see the same despair in his eyes that was sinking its sharp, tiny teeth into her heart.
“Where should we take them?” someone asked.
There was a brief silence, then the captain responded, his voice indifferent.
“Take them to the mines.”
Part Seven: In the Box
“Thinking is simply the talking of the soul with itself.”
—Plato
“Reflect upon your present blessings—of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”
—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emily’s stomach lurched as the platform beneath her feet tilted and swung. The wall of the shaft hurtled toward her, then fell back before rushing forward once again as they descended. The rattle and clank of the chain filled the enclosed space, making her aching head throb. She could feel the rhythm of her pulse in her eyes, and with each beat, bright points of light flashed in and out of existence in the periphery of her vision.
The guards had stripped them of their armor and weaponry, searching them thoroughly for anything they might be concealing. At another time, in another place, she supposed it would’ve been humiliating. All she felt now was that same, burning fury that had started to build when she’d seen the new prisoners being delivered. She was one of them now.
They’d taken everything but their clothes, and with a bitter twinge, she realized she would have lost the pouch Paige had given her anyway.
The guards had shoved her and Corbbmacc onto the platform, situating them back to back against the heavy chain by which the platform would be lowered into the shaft, and then bound them to one another to keep them from falling—or maybe jumping.
Far below, she could make out the flickering light of torches burning. The stench of decay wafted up to them, wet and rank. The illusion that they were plummeting into the bowels of hell was terrifying in its perfection. Death, she was sure, must’ve been preferable to many who had made this descent.
She heard Corbbmacc’s voice behind her, but could not hear what he was saying over the rattle of the chain. She twisted around, trying to catch sight of him. The side of his face—pale, bruised, and bloody—was just visible.
“What?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
“I said I’m sorry,” he shouted back.
“It’s not your fault.” She tried to shake the hair out of her face, and another sickening thud of pain shot through it. “We both wanted to help Celine.”
Corbbmacc didn’t respond, but she saw his expression tighten, and she could tell that, whatever she said, he was determined to take responsibility for the situation they now found themselves in. Stupid noble bastard.
She looked back down and was surprised to see how close they were to the bottom of the shaft. More guards were waiting for them. The cloaked figure of what must have been another wraith stood motionless in the shadows, watching silently.
A corpse shuffled into view for a moment, brushing past the cluster of men standing at the bottom of the shaft. They stepped quickly aside to avoid contact with it. One of them cursed with disgust. The thing ambled on, taking no notice. As it passed beneath one of the torches and disappeared down the tunnel, she saw the light gleam off of a mass of fat white maggots squirming sluggishly through its thinning gray hair.
She closed her eyes for a moment as the platform slowed, wanting to make a wish, but unsure what to wish for. Part of her wanted out—not just out of this mess they were in, but all the way out. Out of this crazy, fucked up world. Nothing her stepfather or anyone else could do to her back in her old life could rival the terrors she’d seen since finding herself at Seven Skies.
But leaving would mean abandoning Celine, Michael, and yes, even Corbbmacc, and she felt responsible for what had happened to all of them. It had been her decision to leave Seven Skies that had led them all here, to this moment. How could she wish to leave and let them fend for themselves now?
Now who’s being stupid and noble, Em? she thought, and despite everything, she felt a faint smile touch the corners of her lips.
It fell away as, with a jolt, the platform came to a halt, and she opened her eyes.
The four men waiting for them surrounded the platform before it’d even stopped swaying. All of them had scarves tied around their faces and armor that bore the insignia she’d briefly worn at Seven Skies, but which she was now coming to loathe.
The youngest among them, surely not much older than Corbbmacc, stepped forward to peer into her face. She stared back into his muddy brown eyes, wanting him to see her hatred for him. To her surprise, though, there was no malice in his gaze—only a cold and weary detachment.
“Don’t give us a reason to hurt you, and we won’t. Do as you’re told, and you’ll receive food. Things are pretty simple down here. Understood?” His voice was high and reedy, and he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that put Emily in mind of her third-grade teacher, Mr. Burnstein. His manner was stern, but fell short of being outwardly hostile.
She nodded.
The guard walked around the platform to look at Corbbmacc.
“You heard what I said to her. Do you understand it?”
Corbbmacc must have nodded as well, because the guard stepped back into Emily’s line of sight and motioned to the others. They came forward and began untying her and Corbbmacc from the chain.
She stepped off the platform, and one of the guards grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around to face the one who’d addressed them. There was a sharp nick of pain on her left arm, and then the bit of rope that had bound her hands fell away.
She brought her hands out from behind her back, rubbing them together and trying to restore some of the circulation they’d lost. Blood trickled from a tiny cut where the guard’s knife had pierced her flesh. She wiped it away, barely feeling the sting.
“It’s late,” the first guard went on, addressing them both as Corbbmacc was made to stand beside her. “You’ll be taken to sleep with the other prisoners. In a few hours, you will begin work. If you work, you will eat. The more you eat, the longer you live. If you survive the duration of your sentence, you will be released at its end.”
His words had the dull, learned-by-heart sound of a speech given countless times before. Emily’s temper began to rise. Sentence? What kind of fucked up charade was he playing?
He turned away from her, and she felt the other guard’s grip on her arm tighten.
“And how long is our sentence exactly?” she spat, unable to help herself.
He stopped and looked back at her. She thought she detected uncertainty in his eyes, but then his gaze hardened.
“However long is just, I’m sure,” he said, and he turned and headed away down the tunnel.
The other guards marched them in the opposite direction, the wraith trailing behind silently in their wake.
Torches lit their way, burning from makeshift brackets mounted on the earthen walls. Heavy wooden beams supported the tunnel every few dozen yards, but they looked old and worn. The air was cold and rank, thick with the stench of death.
The passage curved and twisted, and eventually, the earth gave way to
stone. From somewhere deeper in the mines, they heard the sharp, steady clink of metal on rock as the mining went on.
The guards brought them to a huge iron gate set into the tunnel’s stone wall. Through the bars, Emily could see a group of perhaps two dozen men, women, and children huddled on the floor of a small alcove that had been carved out of the mountain.
“Back up to the far wall,” one of the guards barked, clanging his sword against the bars. The sound echoed down the tunnel, morphing from a crash into the haunted melody of a ghost-child’s music box.
The prisoners did as they were told, skittering away from the bars and huddling in small clusters. Emily saw sores festering at the corners of their chapped and bleeding mouths. Many had skin that was blistering or peeling away in huge swatches like parchment. They had the same shell-shocked look of the concentration camp refugees in old World War II news reels.
The guard with the sword produced a key and, with a rattle and the screech of iron on stone, opened the gate.
The guards at their backs shoved them roughly inside. Corbbmacc stumbled on the uneven rock floor and fell to his knees, but Emily managed to stay on her feet. She turned in time to see the iron gate slam shut behind them.
The key rattled in the lock again, and the guards strode off down the hall without so much as a backward glance.
The wraith remained behind, seeming to stare at her from the depths of its shadowy hood.
“You’re just an empty space in the room to me, and there must be a reason why,” the one at the safe house had said to her. Could this wraith sense that she didn’t belong here as well? Did it know she’d come from another world?
Emily stared back for a moment, then turned and offered a hand to Corbbmacc. He ignored it, scowling slightly, and got to his feet with a grunt. Emily looked back at the gate, but the wraith had melted into the darkness and was gone.
The other prisoners were resuming their spots throughout the cell. An elderly man helped a woman—his wife?—to the far corner. A woman with a hand that was little more than a twist of old and shiny scar tissue cradled a small red-haired girl, no more than eight, in her arms and sang her a quiet lullaby. All around her, she saw pain, and misery, and impending death.
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