Burn the Skies

by K. A. Wiggins

  “You—you can’t all hear me, right?” I ask. Haynfyv never seems to, but maybe he’s just unusually dense . . .

  A couple of the kids get a pinched, listening sort of look, but none respond. Liwan shakes his head and keeps climbing. The others exchange glances and shrug. Apparently, no one’s willing to be the first to turn tail and run, despite their leader arguing with thin air.

  “I wasn’t trying to criticize you, okay?” I call after him.

  Liwan starts up the stairs to the next floor. Only two flights to go before they reach their destination.

  “Look, it wouldn’t matter if you had the best-trained team in the world. Everything Haynfyv told me is useless. The shift patterns have changed. The enforcers will be paying extra attention to Ange. She’s—she’s not even there anymore, okay? They took her away for treatment. You’ll be risking their lives for nothing.”

  Liwan rolls his eyes.

  I dig desperately for something that’ll scare him into submission, finally landing on: “If you want to be Mara-bait, there’s easier ways to do it. Look, you know what it’s like. You barely survived their last attack. You want to risk that kind of slaughter again for no reason? It’s not just your life at stake. If you don’t call this off right now, you’re responsible for whatever happens to them.”

  That’s a lie, of course. He wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t pointed him in this direction in the first place. I must’ve gone insane there for a moment, willing to use even these kids to feel like I could make a difference. But now—

  The barrier shivers.

  Fluffy pokes me, trying to get my attention. But I can’t worry about that. There has to be something I can do, something I can say, to stop Liwan. To save them. “You might not be the first to get sacrificed, you know? You’ll get caught, all of you. They won’t kill you right away. They won’t need to. You’re just a bunch of kids.

  “No, first, you’ll be rounded up and stuffed into the training dorms. You hated it there, remember? Even before it was a literal prison. Some of you will get sick. Too many people, too little space. You’ll be starved because there’s no sense wasting resources on prisoners.

  “The waiting will seem endless. And then an enforcer will come. Maybe he’ll take one or two at a time. Maybe more. They’ll hold you in place. But you won’t struggle. You won’t be able to. They drug you first so you can’t move. You can’t fight, not for yourself or for the others. But you’ll be aware. You’ll watch, helpless, as the Mara suck them dry, one by one.”

  He misses a step, cracking his shin against the sharp-edged concrete.

  It’s working.

  I lower my voice; slow its pace to a death-march. “And then it’ll be your turn. And you’ll go peacefully. Silently. You won’t fight. They won’t let you. I’ve seen it. That is what’s waiting for you, if you don’t turn back. That’s what you’re leading them into.”

  Liwan closes his eyes, nostrils flaring, lips pressed into a pale line. That got through to him. That nightmarish vision of his future. I didn’t even have to make it up. The truth is terrifying enough.

  But he picks himself up, waves off the others’ concern, and continues on, one floor, and then another, pausing to let each of his foolish little soldiers catch their breath before continuing.

  The barrier shivers once more. Fluffy squirms. And Liwan and his team climb past the floor Ange is being held on.

  “We’re not the ones who should be starving,” he breathes. “It’s time to stop feeding the nightmares.”

  He’s headed to the training floor. The dorms that have been turned into more holding pens for sacrifices to the Mara. He was never planning to try to reach Ange from the start.

  If I weren’t so horrified, I’d almost be impressed. “You’re making a mistake. I understand wanting to save them, I do, but it’s hopeless. There’s no point—the Mara will take them either way.”

  He keeps climbing.

  “You don’t get it. Everyone will—” I choke on the truth. Everyone is going to die. Everyone. If I can stop Cadence and Maryam from destroying the barrier, it won’t stop the Mara from devouring every living soul within it. If I fail, everyone in the city still dies—and soon after, everyone outside it, too.

  Liwan and his friends aren’t going to survive long no matter what happens. Neither is Ange. Or Haynfyv. Even the best-case scenario at this point is nothing more than me stranded in a city full of ghosts.

  But for some reason, I can’t stop yelling at them, trying to persuade them to turn back. I don’t want them to die. I know it’s pointless, absolutely the wrong thing to focus on, but I can’t stop—

  The barrier shivers.

  Fluffy—did that stupid thing just bite me? But there’s no chance to scold the treespawn because deep below and halfway across the city, a familiar voice rings out with cocky self-satisfaction.

  “Miss me, flame?”

  Chapter 20: Return

  He shouldn’t be here.

  I would tell him that if I wasn’t in such a rush to put him to work.

  “They’re almost there. Hurry!” I dart in circles as if it’ll nudge him to greater speed.

  “Not quite the greeting I was hoping for. I’ve come a long way to see you, you know?”

  “What about ‘innocent kids are gonna get killed’ aren’t you getting right now?”

  “All work and no play,” he sighs. “Darling, you’re no fun at all.”

  “Less talk. More running.”

  “I would never.” He grimaces in exaggeratedly fastidious distaste.

  At least he’s moving in the right direction, I guess? He’s the last person I expected to save the day, but when he stepped through the barrier calling my name, he opened up a whole host of new possibilities. Better yet, for some reason he, like Liwan, can hear me on this side of waking. Maybe it’s something to do with exposure, tuning into a new frequency, or just latent talent. Doesn’t really matter; the important thing is getting him to Liwan in time to get those kids out alive. Grilling Ravel on what on earth he’s doing back here can come after.

  Refuge’s increased patrols mean I have to stick with him and sound the alarm whenever enforcers are about to cross his path if I want to keep him from losing time trying to avoid them. When he hits the base of the stairs, I risk spreading myself thin to scan for Haynfyv, but he doesn’t seem to be in range. Hopefully, he’s off poking around some abandoned corner and staying well out of trouble.

  Liwan has only one floor left to climb, while Ravel’s just getting started. There’s no way he’ll be able to catch up in time. I yell at him to go faster anyway.

  Then I leave him behind to yell at Liwan. “They’re right on the other side of the door, you know. You won’t even make it one step without getting caught. Look, why don’t you wait for a shift change, at least?”

  He pauses, reaching for the door. “Changed your mind about us?”

  Ravel is moving faster than I expected. If I can just stall Liwan a little longer—“Hey, it’s not like I want you guys to get caught. If you’re sure you can’t turn back”—he jerks his head, a definite no—“okay. Have it your way. You’re only making things worse, but I get that you don’t see it that way. So, fine. I’ll help.”

  He flattens his hand against the door and leans his head against the frame, listening.

  “What, don’t trust me? I mean, it’s not like I can see through walls or anything. You probably know best after all. No need to listen to useless little old me.”

  He frowns at my sarcasm but says nothing, which is the right choice since there really is a guard—actually a pair of guards—stationed on the other side of the stairwell door, more to monitor the elevator directly across from it than anything, but I’m sure if a bunch of kids come storming out under their noses they'll feel obligated to react.

  Ravel’s getting close. Life on the outside must agree with him. I’m impressed by his stamina. He’s catching up fast; I just have to hold out a little longer against Liwan.
“You remember the layout, more or less? It’s changed. They’ve knocked out some of the inner walls to make bigger holding areas. Besides, there was so much damage from before. When the Mara slaughtered everyone, remember? Which is what you’re leading these kids into. Just in case you forgot.”

  Too far. He reaches for the door handle.

  “Sorry, sorry. But listen, my point is you’ve got to make it down this hallway, around the corner, and half that distance again before you even reach the nearest door to where they’re holding the prisoners. That’s”—I run a quick tally: four guards, two on each set of doors, plus another two patrolling the perimeter, but I might as well tack on a few more for good measure—“Eight, no, ten enforcers to start with. I assume each of your little soldiers is capable of taking an enforcer or two out on their own? Before any can sound the alarm?”

  Ravel has just two floors left to go. If he could risk calling out to them without being heard, this would all be over. Just a little more—

  Liwan looks over his shoulder, flashing a sign at the determined—and scared-spitless—kids lined up behind him. Then he shoves the door open with a yell, diving at the pair of very surprised-looking enforcers on the other side.

  “What was that?” Ravel pants from two dozen steps and a landing away.

  I cringe. Two of ours down already. A pair of enforcers down, too, surprisingly. Liwan is sharp—he went after the weapons first. Armed, his forces could be in better shape than I anticipated. But there is no time for them to experiment with the unfamiliar tools, there’s little enough combat skill to share among the lot of them, and they’re rapidly losing the element of surprise.

  “Cole?” Ravel calls. “Tell me those brats didn’t just—”

  I summarize the situation. Three down, now. Our remaining wannabe soldiers have pinned the second pair of guards by sheer strength of numbers, but just piling on is a losing strategy. These enforcers are only temporarily incapacitated, and more are on their way, racing from posts around the perimeter of the floor.

  Ravel slows, stops, and leans against the nearest wall. “I know you don’t want to hear this, flame, but I can’t help them.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Of course you can—you’re almost there. There’s still time—”

  “You’re not thinking straight. Right now, no one here knows I’m back in the city but you. It’s not worth losing that advantage to save a few dumb kids.”

  I hate to admit it, but he’s right. He can cross the barrier without suffering harm. He can take people across. He can hear me, even when he’s awake. Who knows what else he’s capable of? Plus, he knows everyone—and everyone’s weaknesses—and has underground networks that stretch across the city, from the heights of Refuge to the outer fringes of the streets. He might even be Maryam’s weakness. He’s offering to do what he can for the city—and even if he weren’t offering, I might be able to use him. I will use him in whatever way I must.

  Right after we save Liwan and his overeager pack of idiots. “Follow my orders exactly.”

  “Are you sure? This is what you want?” The fine tendons in his hands are ridged with tension.

  Why has he returned? For the sake of the city? To save his people—the same ones he manipulated, even sacrificed, to seize and hold power? As part of some devious plot to gather even more power in the midst of chaos? Is it complete arrogance—or delusion—to think that he could have come back for me?

  In the long moment I hesitate, caught up in Ravel’s inimitable capacity for creating drama and confusion, Liwan crumples, winged by an enforcer’s shot. They haven’t even made it past the first corner yet, and four others are down on his side. The first two fallen enforcers are being used for cover to trade fire—one of the girls has figured out how the stolen weapons work—while another has been captured but is still upright. Mobile cover for a suicide run toward the corner where the remaining enforcers are sheltering. But this floor has a full loop or rectangle of corridors around the perimeter. The first side to realize they can just sneak up behind their enemy’s backs will win.

  “Get your hood up,” I order Ravel, barking the orders to keep panic from choking my voice. “Turn right as soon as you get through the doorway and break for the corner. The shooting might stop if the enforcers are surprised enough, but don’t count on it. The faster you run, the less likely you are to get shot.”

  “You are putting a lot of faith in my lung capacity, darling.”

  “Go. Now.”

  Shockingly, he does, bursting up the remaining stairs and through to the hallway with a shout. Immediately turning away from the stunned faces of enforcers and Underfolk alike, he vaults the bodies strewn across the floor and sprints for the far corner.

  He makes the turn without getting hit, only to backpedal at the sight of a door guard staring back at him. “Now what?”

  “Don’t stop. Get over there before he thinks to shoot!”

  Ravel puts his head down and charges as the hapless enforcer fumbles for a weapon. Apparently, he wasn’t wasting his time in Nine Peaks—he has the guard disarmed and on the floor before I get a chance to issue my next set of orders.

  “Good. Shoot and keep going.”

  He doesn’t hesitate, discharging the weapon without a flicker of remorse. Enforcers’ arms are meant for suppression, not lethal force. At least, they should be within Refuge’s walls. So there’s a good chance he knew the guard would survive. Probably.

  Armed, Ravel makes short work of the single guards stationed at the doors along the far hallway, but the next bit will be trickier. All remaining enforcers have clustered at the end of the fourth stretch of hallway, attacking the three kids still laying down fire. Ravel will have to take most of them out alone. If they notice him coming down the long, unprotected stretch of corridor behind them, there’s no way he’ll be able to avoid taking fire himself.

  I might be able to do something about that. “Liwan, you’re doing great. Help is on its way.”

  He blinks, struggling to focus, fighting the compulsion to lie down and sleep. One arm dangles limp. His leg drags on the same side.

  “Final push, now, hard as you can,” I order. “If you can just keep the enemy distracted for another minute, it’ll all be over.”

  The kid beside Liwan takes a shot to the head and drops without a sound. I swallow a sob. He nods to his one remaining soldier, an older girl. “Pick it up. No surrender.”

  She bares her teeth and reaches for the newly orphaned weapon, squeezing off shot after shot with her free hand.

  On the opposite side of the tower, Ravel pulls his hood up further and peers around the corner.

  “Coast is as clear as it’s gonna get. Just go!”

  An enforcer falls to one of the Undergirls’ shots. She’s firing with both hands now, wildly. Liwan leans heavily against a downed enforcer, wheezing as he pulls the trigger.

  Ravel rounds his third corner and sprints toward the remaining cluster of enforcers using the fourth for cover. He raises his weapon. It’s not made for accuracy over large distances. He’ll be halfway down the hallway before it’s safe to get off a shot. But Liwan and his young soldier are hanging in there, drawing all the guards’ attention.

  Until their efforts backfire. A lucky shot drops another enforcer, who falls back, a dead weight against his fellows. Only three are left standing now, two trading shots with their attackers, one struggling to drag the fallen out from underfoot. He turns—and catches sight of Ravel.

  Ravel’s shot drops him before he can raise the alarm, but the body falls against the remaining enforcers. They twist to look.

  Ravel takes another out before their first shot is fired. It’s down to a one-to-one faceoff; Ravel barrelling forward while the last remaining enforcer braces himself behind his fallen comrades for the shot. He can’t miss, not at this range. The Undergirl is cautiously advancing from the opposite direction, but she’s moving too slow. If anything, she’ll be in the perfect position to fall under the enforcer’s next
shot after he takes out Ravel.

  Liwan is in no condition to help. He limps in completely the wrong direction, working his way toward the opposite corner.

  The last enforcer aims. Ravel yells, squeezing off another shot. It misses by a hairsbreadth.

  The elevator chimes.

  Chapter 21: Smuggling

  The sound of impending rescue distracts the last remaining enforcer. His shot goes wide, grazing Ravel’s elbow. Ravel jumps, squeezing off the decisive shot from above as he hurdles the barricaded enforcer and keeps right on going.

  Reinforcements have arrived. Ravel might catch them off guard enough to get a shot or two in before they overwhelm him. The girl is likely to take a shot in the back if she doesn’t stop gaping and find cover. Liwan—he lunges out of sight just as the first enforcer steps out.

  Huh. Maybe that kid has better instincts than I’ve been giving him credit for. But the stunning effects of even a glancing bolt are catching up with him. He staggers, leaning into the wall for support.

  Ravel can’t be far behind. Already his steps weave, one arm hanging limp, and he didn’t even get properly hit. Doesn’t stop him from taking out the first enforcer, or the second, who had foolishly poked his head out to stare slack-jawed at the mess of bodies.

  The rest of the reinforcements must decide they need a better strategy than hop-out-and-see-what-happens. The door starts to slide shut, bumps into the prone form of the fallen enforcer, and hisses open again.

  Ravel stares. The Underfolk girl flanks him, levelling her dual weapons. She blinks. Her arms fall to her sides.

  In the distance, Liwan hits the locked door to the prisoners with a strained cry. He sags, wheezing, pulls himself up, and hits it again. Muted cries and thumps filter through from the other side.

  But in the open elevator car, all is silent. The only Refuge Force members it brought, out cold on the floor, stunned by the stolen weapons turned against them. And, on a wheeled cot, a silent form, still but for the faint flickering of her eyes behind closed lids, lost in fever dreams.