The Tunnel War

by Kevin George

  “I’m sure my people doubted your existence, too,” the king said.

  Love nodded. “And if your son suddenly decides to change his mind? If he decides not to betray you?”

  Edmond frowned. As much as he’d hoped for such a scenario before, he almost didn’t want Oliver to change his mind again. Still, the boy had been wishy-washy with so many things that Edmond couldn’t trust any decision Oliver ever made, good or bad.

  “Either way, we’ll work something out,” the king said. “You just need to be my guest a bit longer. If Oliver decides to avoid war, he’ll return to rule One shortly when I move my new family to The Fifth. At that time, you can have him.”

  Love stood from the bed, a shadow falling over his face.

  “I’ve already spent months locked away, months waiting for you to tell me where to find. . . the prince,” Love said. His eyes blinked quickly, and he seemed to look beyond the king, beyond the door, at a place far from the City Below. “I’ve missed out on so many. . . I haven’t been there to catch them.” He blinked hard, closing his eyes for several seconds as he shook his head. “My kind relies on me, as your citizens do on you. I’ve suffered every day I’ve been away from them, yet I’ve remained a well-behaved prisoner when I could’ve made trouble. You expect me to stay in this room longer and still bring a message of peace to The Mountain?”

  “I can make it so you don’t return to The Mountain at all,” the king warned.

  Love hobbled a few steps forward but lowered his head in deference. “A gesture of good faith is all that I ask, a promise that I’ll have a chance to go where the prince and his wife are hiding.”

  “You have it,” the king said. “And an assurance that your stay in this room will not last much longer.”

  A knock on the door startled Edmond and Love alike. The Aviary nodded and took a few steps back before the king opened the door. The guards at Love’s door apologized profusely for the interruption while trying to block the path of a palace guard.

  “I told him to find me with updates on my wife,” the king told the pair of guards.

  “The baby is coming,” the palace guard said. “The midwife has been summoned.”

  The king nodded, his stomach aflutter. He swallowed hard, dismissing the guard with a message that he’d be there shortly. Edmond closed the door and turned back to Love.

  “Congratulations?” he asked. “Am I to understand that a birth is a happy event here?”

  “Normally,” the king said. “But this birth brings more confusion and difficulties than most.”

  “You’d better go check on the child’s host then,” Love said.

  Edmond snorted at Love’s choice of words. He began to leave when he suddenly stopped.

  “I meant what I said about us working together soon,” the king said.

  “Does that mean you intend to let me out of here now?”

  Edmond thought for a moment but frowned, shaking his head. “This isn’t a good time to frighten my people and explain an existence beyond our city’s walls. There’s only one thing I can offer that might let you know how serious I am.” He took a deep breath and extended his hand holding the syringe. “I won’t pretend it’s the same as the Aviary Blast you mentioned. I also won’t pretend I wasn’t trying to keep you weak before. But not any longer.”

  Love’s hand shot out, grabbing the syringe before the king could change his mind, quickly retreating into the corner of his room, staring down at the greenish liquid with wide eyes. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the syringe.

  “I look forward to working with you,” Love said.

  The king hurried from the room, pausing long enough to tell the two guards to keep the door closed regardless of strange noises or banging coming from inside. He rushed down the hallway, losing his breath as he climbed the steps two a time, the distant echo of a woman’s screams spurring him on. A few palace guards emerged from their shadows, but Edmond waved them back.

  The screaming came from his bedroom door, where there was a flurry of guard activity, all of them stepping aside as he approached. Edmond slowed down, listening to Raefaline’s screams. He was reminded of Queen Liv on the day of Oliver’s birth, the way she’d been so strong, the way she hadn’t cried out in pain a single time. He’d pushed aside thoughts of his first wife for so long that he was surprised by the intensity of his sadness now. Edmond constantly battled regrets of his past and knew the longer he stayed still, the less likely it would be that he’d win that battle now.

  He pushed forward, focusing on the cries of his new wife. He’d barely seen or spoken to Raefaline in months, pushing her aside for a son that had done nothing but betray him at every possible turn. He regretted how he’d treated her, but it was a regret he intended to fix. She’d been so accepting of him—so accepting of his. . . idiosyncrasies—and he’d rejected her in turn. He would make things right with Raefaline so they could raise the new prince properly. All of his problems with Oliver began when Liv disappeared and he didn’t intend to repeat that error.

  Before he reached the door, his royal guardsmen rushed down the hallway, Ryo calling out to them from behind, pleading with them to stop. When Ryo made eye contact with the king, he pushed aside several of his men and ran to the front.

  “We heard about the queen,” Ryo said.

  “We thought you’d want extra guards outside the room,” one of the guardsmen said, exchanging glares with the crowd of palace guards.

  The king thought about that for a moment, enough time for Ryo to stand at the front of all the guards.

  “We could also return to the throne room and guard the Lord’s room if that’s what our king desires,” Ryo said, waving his men away.

  King Edmond shook his head. “No, the new prince’s safety takes precedence over everything else.”

  He ordered the rest of the palace guards to return to their postings while Ryo and the guardsmen stood in front of the queen’s bedroom door. Edmond reached out and squeezed Ryo’s massive arm, thanking him personally for coming at such an important moment. Ryo nodded a single time before Edmond opened the door and entered the room.

  His first thought was how normal the bedroom looked, the only difference he could see being the presence of the midwife at Raef’s bedside. The midwife was the oldest remaining woman in One, the wife of a former upper-steppe guard who’d traveled Beyond the Light years earlier. Raefaline’s screams of pain were different, screams Edmond had never heard from his wife. Part of him wondered if he should be enjoying those sounds, but his chest suddenly tightened and dread filled every fiber of his being.

  He hurried to the queen’s side, staring at her face the entire time, unable to even glance where the midwife was focused.

  “It won’t be long now,” the midwife explained calmly. “Not sure if I ever saw a child so ready to come into this world.”

  “Ready to serve the. . .”—the queen stopped speaking long enough to let out another cry of agony, this one longer and deeper than the ones before, finally inhaling deeply before continuing—“. . . to serve the Lord and Jonas, Your Illustriousness.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and hatred, pushing the king’s chest into a deep, black void. Instinct steered him toward becoming defensive, but following instinct had already ruined one marriage and possibly another. He knelt beside her bed, gently peeling her clenched fingers away from the sheets, slipping his hand into hers, trying not to wince or pull away as she squeezed so tightly that he felt his bones shifting.

  “I should’ve said this sooner, but I’m sorry for ever doubting you and this pregnancy,” Edmond said. “This is truly the most special thing that’s happened to me and I beg your forgiveness if my actions have upset you.”

  The queen’s eyes softened, confused for a moment. Another wave of pain brought screaming and groans of agony, as well as instructions from the midwife for Raefaline to push. The queen’s grip tightened and Edmond fought the urge to pull away. Instead, he whispered words of encouragement u
ntil the contraction passed. Queen Raefaline released her grip on his hand, twisting the sheet between her fingers again, pain gone from her face but not the anger.

  “The Lord and Jonas never need to ask for forgiveness,” she said coolly.

  “You’re right, at least from everyone else,” the king said. “But you are different, and I’m ashamed I haven’t been here during your pregnancy. That will change once our son is born.”

  Raefaline’s head turned slowly to him, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit. She saw none and nodded. When the next contraction hit, she focused on breathing and pushing, never once screaming or breaking eye contact with Edmond.

  “I always knew you’d. . . treat our son well. . . I look forward to our baby. . . our family,” she said through gritted teeth.

  She screamed again, this time throwing her head back in pain, her entire body writhing. King Edmond glanced at the midwife, expecting to see a baby. Instead, he saw a look of concern on the old woman’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” the king asked.

  “I think it would be best if you waited outside,” the midwife said.

  The king shook his head. He insisted on staying, but when he tried to take Raefaline’s hand, she smacked him away and snapped for him to get out, which the midwife echoed.

  “I’m king of the City Below,” he snapped at the older woman. “I stay wherever I damn well—”

  The midwife hurried to the king’s side, taking him by the arm, her grip stronger than he expected. He tried to pull away, but the old woman leaned in closer.

  “I don’t think the baby is turned the correct way,” she whispered. “This issue has caused severe complications for mother and child in other cases I’ve seen. It would be easier if you weren’t here to see this.”

  “Then fix it!” the king yelled.

  The door to his bedroom opened and Ryo rushed in, his spear raised. Seeing the midwife holding the king, Ryo stomped forward until the old woman released Edmond.

  “Don’t ever put your hands on the king,” Ryo snapped.

  Edmond took Ryo by the arm and pulled him aside.

  “She’s the only one that can help,” King Edmond said, cutting off the midwife before she reached the queen. “Failure will result in the wrath of the Lord and Jonas.”

  The midwife’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. When Edmond demanded to know the odds of survival, the old woman explained that situations like Raefaline’s could stretch for hours, even days.

  “And I’m ready to be by her side the entire time,” the king said.

  “Let the queen and I handle this woman’s business,” the midwife said. “You should focus on the city’s business for now.”

  Edmond didn’t like being told what to do, but he eventually stepped aside, allowing the midwife to return to Raefaline. Glancing at his wife—whose face remained twisted in agony—made him feel helpless and he prayed this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her. Still, there was nothing he could do to help by staying. Instead, he thought about the ‘gift’ he planned to send Oliver, a ‘gift’ he’d considered delivering in person, though that was no longer possible.

  “I want to be informed of any changes,” the king demanded, to which the midwife replied with a nod.

  Ryo hurried out and started back toward the throne room, but the king rushed after him, grabbing the large man’s arm.

  “You need to stay by Raefaline’s door,” the king said. “Bring me any news about her or the baby.”

  “But Your Illustriousness, I—”

  “I appreciated your support back there, support you’ve given me all along,” the king said in a rare moment of sincerity. “You’ve always been there for the queen and me, and I want you to know I’ll never forget that. After the Jonas Heir’s birth and my impending dealings with the prince, I promise you and your kind will have an even higher place among the steppes.”

  Ryo nodded, though his jaw ached from how tightly he clenched his teeth. Without another word, the king swept past him, heading back to the throne room—and the Lord’s room—as he wondered what his family would soon look like.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Zander Blake sat in the front seat of his hovercraft, arms crossing his chest, closing his eyes for a moment as the breeze whipped through his wisps of white hair. He glanced from one side to the other, sensing the other hovercraft flanking his own, floating far back enough so his remained at the front. Behind him, hovercraft filled the width of the Main Tunnel and stretched back a dozen rows. Nearly every guard from One was behind him, in force, ready to show The Third and Fifth that One meant business.

  In his youth, Zander had helped put down a few troublemakers—not to mention participating in the mission to destroy Tunnelers—but he’d never commanded this sort of force. Zander always thought Lawrence the Enlightened was a stronger king and leader than his son, but Edmond finally seemed ready to prove that he could do more than hide in his throne room and beat innocent women.

  And I’m ready to prove to the Lord and Jonas that I have more service left to give, he thought, hoping to never see the white hallways of the Quarantined Zone again. He’d assumed his previous job assignment would be his last, that his ‘overseeing’ of the QZ was the first step in being sent Beyond the Light. Few men reached Zander’s age, and though he might be heading toward his last hurrah, he hoped to see his daughter a final time and save her from the life forced upon her in The Fifth.

  Zander turned to the precious cargo stowed in the back of his hovercraft. The old man still wore the bag over his head and did not move or make trouble. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and dip of the old man’s chest, Zander might’ve thought his prisoner was dead. Zander faced forward, unable to look at the prisoner for long without feeling guilt, without remembering the years they’d spent together controlling the guards and keeping One safe. Sure, the prisoner ended up in this position because of the traitorous decisions he’d made, but Zander couldn’t say he trusted King Edmond more than his old friend.

  The line of hovercraft sped past The Second’s entrance. Zander wanted this moment to last forever, but it wasn’t long before they approached The Third’s entrance. The empty tunnel was suddenly filled with bodies. A small crew of One guards remained positioned in front of a line of bodies blocking the path to The Third. Zander was glad to see Aytyn and the former royal guardsmen at the front of that blockade, but he couldn’t say the same about the sea of bodies behind them. The individuals in The Third’s fighting force weren’t as intimidating as One guards, but the sheer number of bodies in such a confined space meant any fight would be a bloodbath, with massive casualties on both sides.

  Zander’s heart pounded in a way it hadn’t for years. He felt strong enough to take out half of The Third on his own, despite knowing he wouldn’t survive. Still, the idea of dying in battle was one he’d accepted long ago, yet one he hadn’t considered for years. Part of him wanted to stand in the hovercraft, point a finger ahead and call out an attack order, but he remained seated and said nothing as they glided to a stop. Zander climbed down and nodded to the driver, who circled to the back of the craft and dragged out the hooded prisoner.

  “Testers!” Zander called out to the craft behind him.

  Guards piled out and began to line up in formation. They remained back, parting to let through several dozen nervous-looking men holding equipment to test for the mystery illness. Zander waved them forward, grabbing the prisoner’s arm, leading them all toward Aytyn and the rest of the Thirders. Murmurs erupted within The Third’s forces, which shuffled about, readying for an attack. But Zander paid them no attention and marched straight to Aytyn.

  “King Edmond received a warning from the Lord about a potential outbreak in The Third,” Zander said loudly enough for all to hear. “Tests need to be performed so we can quarantine those with the illness.”

  Zander nodded to Aytyn, expecting him to step aside. But Aytyn crossed his spear with the guardsman standing next to him,
making it clear that this situation wouldn’t go as smoothly as Zander hoped.

  “We better wait for Prince Oliver,” Aytyn said. “One of my men went to get him.”

  “I don’t need the prince’s permission to follow the king’s orders,” Zander said. “Now step aside.”

  Aytyn frowned. His spear quivered for a moment and began to lower. Zander reached out to help move the weapon, but Aytyn suddenly shook his head and his shaking stopped. Zander’s eyes narrowed on the much larger man and he leaned closer, his words seething between clenched teeth.

  “You never would’ve climbed the guard ranks so high without me,” Zander whispered.

  “I never would’ve climbed so high if I ignored my sworn duty,” Aytyn said, his face expressionless.

  “Your duty is to remain loyal to King Edmond, One, and the Lord and Jonas,” Zander said louder.

  “When King Edmond reassigned me, he told me to treat Prince Oliver the same way I’d treat the Lord and Jonas,” Aytyn said. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Zander nodded. King Edmond had warned him this would be Aytyn’s response. Zander raised a hand to the illness testers, the group slowly retreating toward the One guards. Zander backed up a few feet as well, motioning for Aytyn to join him in a moment of privacy. Aytyn lowered his spear, turning to the guardsmen on both sides of him, nodding silently before he stepped forward.

  “The Third knows it can’t win, right?” Zander asked.

  “I don’t know what they think,” Aytyn admitted. “I’ve never set foot in The Third. She’s very selective about who goes in.”

  “The Weller girl?” Zander asked.

  Aytyn stood straighter, holding his spear higher.

  “Princess Emma,” he said. “And she’s very protective of her section, as are her people.”

  Zander looked over Aytyn’s shoulders and nodded. “I can see that. Please, can you tell me anything about my daughter?”