Such a Daring Endeavor

by Cortney Pearson

  Nattie knew. Somehow the tears have something to do with Angels’ Basin. I just don’t know what yet.

  I reach in the darkness to find Talon’s arm. “You said he wanted you to lead his army at his side. He wanted you to lead an army against your own people, to get to Angel’s Basin.”

  That must make the betrayal sink even deeper.

  “Talon, we can’t let Tyrus beat Feihria. We can’t let him get the tears and the power he wants at Angel’s Basin. We need to get to Mt. Rhine.”

  I turn and find the doorknob and reenter the room.

  Zeke pushes himself up, grimacing at whatever muscle tightness he’s fighting. He rests a hand at his back before adjusting himself. “I heard,” he says. “The end of it anyway. Ya’ll stopped whispering.”

  I chew my lip. “Zeke, we need to go. Tyrus is going to want the tears before Feihria gets here.”

  “It’s almost daybreak,” he says. “Yeh may be runnin’ outta time.”

  A stopwatch lodges in my brain, ticking down every second we sit here.

  Talon’s eyes lock onto mine in the darkness. “We don’t have a strategy,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “We’ve barely even discussed anything with the others.”

  “Then you come with me. The others can stay here and we’ll—”

  Talon shakes his head before I can finish. “Shasa will never go for that.”

  Jealousy slaps like a slingshot, straight at my chest. Especially after that dream or whatever it is I saw.

  “Neither will your brother,” says Zeke, stretching his back.

  “Then we get them up now. How many men will Tyrus bring for something like this? What are we up against?”

  “I doubt he’ll send more than a battalion,” says Talon, “especially if they’re all immune to siren song.”

  “How large is a battalion usually?” I ask.

  “About sixty men. They’ll probably bring climbing gear to storm the siren’s meadow. The sirens are known to be fierce, and they will probably take to the sky, but without their song, they’ll be defenseless.”

  “Then we have to leave as soon as possible,” I say as I begin to pace. “Our best chance is to warn the sirens, or try to get the tears first and hide them. It took all night when I walked from our camp in the Ramald Forest, and we’re farther out here. Do we have any other kind of transportation besides that van?” White is a little conspicuous.

  “We got cycles,” says Zeke.

  “Good,” I nod, thinking. “Talon and I can climb the mountain to warn Estelle and the others. Do you think Jomeini will help us? If things go wrong, maybe she’d be willing to use her bleakfire on them. That would be a real asset.”

  “We could ask,” says Talon.

  “That poor girl’s been through enough already,” Zeke argues, pushing himself off the floor to stand beside Talon.

  “But these are her tears,” I argue. “Her world is at stake just as much as the rest of us.”

  Zeke shrugs, and I continue. “Black Vaulters stay hidden in the trees, armed with whatever weapons we can find. We can’t let Tyrus get the tears.”

  Zeke and Talon both roll it over in their minds, staring at their hands while the thoughts are obvious on their faces.

  “I go for Tyrus,” says Talon. “Chances are he’ll be at the head of his men. We warn Estelle, and then I take Tyrus out.”

  His eye burn in the glow of Zeke’s screen, resolute and solid. I place a hand on his shoulder.

  “The odds are against us,” I say. “We get the tears as sneakily as possible and get them to a safe place. Fighting is a last resort. But if it comes to that, we’ll have the sirens, if they decide to join us.”

  “I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” says Talon. “They’ll know we’re there to help them.”

  “Not a bad plan, little sprite,” says Zeke. “Talon?”

  He inhales long and slow through his nose. “Talk to the others. I’ll go get Shasa. She’ll wring my neck if I go with you anywhere without her again.”

  I nod. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”

  It doesn’t take much to convince Ren about my plan. I tell him about the video confrontation we had with Talon’s father, about Tyrus’s threat, about seeing the news and the double-sided promise of protection. He slips into his jacket and shoes, and we meet Talon upstairs.

  Shasa exits a room down the hall wearing fresh pants and a blue shirt. She ties her hair into a ponytail, her scowl intensifying at the sight of Ren and me.

  “Ready?” Talon says, ignoring her.

  “Jomeini wasn’t thrilled, but she agreed to help us,” Shasa says.

  Zeke shuffles in behind us, taking a seat on the couch. He’s changed into a gray, oversized shirt and black pants. Clearly, he’s not coming with us yet. “I’ll tell ‘em you’ve gone. Anyone who wants to follow, can.”

  “Ren will be staking out in the trees, waiting for backup,” I say. Zeke dips his chin in response.

  The morning air is cold and sharp. The sky is clear of clouds, a wide open expanse of whitish-blue. I feel strange without anything to pack, nothing to prepare, though I do have a switchblade Zeke gave me. I haven’t really had anything since I lost my pack when we first got to Valadir. But besides my teardrop, I don’t need anything else.

  Ren leads the way to a large garage branching off the side of the house. It has two bay doors, a shocking brown that contrasts with the house’s blue exterior.

  The van we arrived in is in the first bay, and just next to it are three two-wheeled cycles. Thick, sturdy, and sleek, their silver is polished, their paint an unintrusive black.

  “Stellar,” says Talon, sliding his fingers along the seat of the one nearest the wall. He turns and tosses a helmet from its peg on the wall to me, then Ren. Shasa takes one, securing it over her hair.

  “You know how to drive this?” I ask Ren as he whips a leg around the machine and grips the handlebars.

  “Who doesn’t?” Shasa asks snidely.

  Ren laughs, shooting Talon a look before glancing at me. “Yeah, I know how to drive it. Gatekeeper, remember?”

  Ren backs the machine up onto the wide expanse of concrete outside.

  “Get on,” he tells me.

  Unsteady, I place my foot on the peg and hurtle myself on, holding onto Ren’s shoulders. Ren shoots a glistening stream into the handlebars, the magic steaming in the cool morning air, and turns the throttle. The cycle roars to life like a chainsaw. Talon follows suit, and Shasa straddles behind him, holding him by the waist. Talon’s foot kicks down the gear, and they bullet off with Ren and me close behind.

  The frosty air smacks my cheeks. I hug Ren’s waist, taking in the outer line of trees behind me once we leave the safehouse. The thruway toward Valadir runs north and south but we go west, toward the Ramald Forest. Toward my tears.

  We arrive just as the sun adds pink to the sky, bringing in a bit of warmth with it, but not enough. The two boys lead the cycles to a small copse of trees that helps hide the large bulks of silver and metal. I blow warm air onto my hands as they prop several loose branches around the machines for added camouflage.

  Ren checks his aud. “It’s Zeke. He says he told them what’s going on. He, Ayso, and Cadie, along with the wizards, will be on their way soon.”

  “Okay,” I say, gut wrenching. Talon was right—these people aren’t soldiers. I hope I’m not leading everyone into a trap. But we have to do something, and who knows, maybe if we can sneak in and out again it won’t come to that. I force confidence to my voice. “Talon and I will go up the mountain. You—”

  “Not without me,” Shasa says, setting her helmet on the cycle’s seat and strutting forward, hands anchored to her hips. “These are sirens, Talon.”

  “I told you the plan,” says Talon. “You agreed.”

  “I said I’d come help. I never said I’d leave you with her again.”

  We don’t have time to argue about this. “The sirens promised us immunity. I can’t vouch for you
. Estelle knows me, but there won’t be time to try and convince them you’re on our side, not if the Arcs come. We’ve got to get the tears.”

  Her lips purse.

  “Talon and I are safe," I say. "I can’t worry about anyone else. You’re the only one who can fight like he can. Ren and the others need you here.”

  “She’s right,” says Ren. The skin beneath his eyes puffs out just slightly. He looks tired. “I saw you in that dungeon, Shasa. I need your help if things go badly.”

  The other option is for Talon to stay here while Shasa accompanies me, but that has so many downsides it’s hard to count them all. Clearly, she’s thinking the same thing too. Her shoulders relax, but her tone is as belligerent as ever. “So we do what, just wait in the trees?”

  “If we need you, I’ll call,” says Talon, holding up his aud. Ren offers Shasa a hand, but she snubs him and stalks toward the cycles in the trees. “Fine.”

  Talon sheaths a knife into his boot and checks the other strapped at his belt. “Ready?”

  I clasp the teardrop beneath my shirt. “Ready.”

  Talon and I venture toward the break in the trees. We cross toward the mountain’s base—the nearby lake buzzing with croaking frogs at daybreak. Yellow light dances across the water’s surface, reflecting Mt. Rhine’s looming presence. It jeers down over us as we approach.

  I find the familiar trail opening at the base—a break between trees, really. I manned this makeshift dirt path under very different circumstances twice before, back when I thought things could be different between Talon and me, after getting him away from their sophisticated wiles. We shared touches then; touches and glances so charged it was a wonder we didn’t start the trees on fire. And now this distance between us spreads like an ocean.

  Talon climbs ahead of me, scaling the path, dodging low-hanging branches, his boots slipping on a cluster of loose pebbles, until we make it to the wide stone basin with the wall of rock barring our way and ascending to the meadow above. I remember meeting Estelle and making a bargain with her here while the other sirens landed, welcoming me to their sisterhood.

  “You ready?” Talon asks again.

  I inhale, staring up at the imposing cliff. “I hope so.”

  Where the other times I’ve come and sirens could be seen flitting above like giant birds, now the sky is a blank blue canvas.

  “Estelle?” I call, waiting for the red-haired siren to show or for the tears to squawk. A sliver of worry builds in my gut. I’m this close; surely they’d acknowledge me. Or maybe I really am done with them after all.

  Or they’re done with you, a thought adds, bringing more discomfort than I’d like to admit. Maybe that’s why I can’t figure any of this out. Nattie could be misled. Maybe I’ve played my part and gotten the tears where they needed to be in order for the real champion to discover their true purpose.

  But still, I have to try.

  “Estelle!” I try again, circling and facing upward.

  “Do they ever leave their mountain?” Talon asks. “Maybe the tears warned them already, and they’ve jumped ship to protect the jar.”

  I shake my head before he even finishes. “Something is wrong. Estelle!”

  Talon makes for the brush, parting it and glancing toward the mountain’s base. I jog over toward the pond and glance up again, hoping for a different vantage point. Stupidly, I hum, soft and low, hoping maybe some remnants of the song will trickle upward and reveal itself like a signal of sorts. I touch the cool sides of the stone as if there’s a notch leading to a hidden staircase within the rock or something. Nothing.

  “Estelle!”

  “Shh,” Talon says, reemerging from the brush. He takes my hand and tugs me back into the trees, but not to the path. The thick bramble invades all around me, pricking and poking, scratching at my cheeks and low back.

  “Where are we going?” I ask in a loud whisper.

  Talon guides me toward a collection of trees with light green leaves smaller than the others, catching my arm before I nearly stumble too far over an abrupt ledge that plummets at least twenty feet down.

  “Look.” His fingerless-gloved hand directs to the south where a line of three sleek, black vehicles with purple-glinted wheels round the corner toward where we left the others in the forest.

  Shrill voices split the sky above. Talon ducks with his hands planted over his ears. I step back to see a procession of winged women soar in a V-shape, their brows bent in fierce purpose. The one in front has fiery red hair and shimmering, emerald green wings.

  “Estelle,” I say under my breath.

  The voices continue plucking the air. Talon teeters through more brush, his steps turning suddenly clumsy. He lets out a throaty growl before stumbling, and I catch him before he hits the ground.

  “And here I thought their music was brutal,” I say, grunting under his limp weight. “Talon.” I grunt again, staggering my feet and struggling to stay upright. “I don’t need this right now.” But I can’t leave him here either. My face burrows into his neck, and I can’t help but smell the forest in his skin, the pine and sweat and Talon of him.

  “Sure, they said they wouldn’t attempt you,” I say with effort, adjusting his weight as best as I can. “Oof, but that doesn’t mean their voices don’t still affect you just like anyone else, curse them.”

  I do my best to drag him along with me, trudging through the branches. Any second now the tears will respond. They’ll purr with assurance or prickle a warning. Where are you?

  Talon’s bulk presses against me again. His hands wrench me tight to his chest, and before I know it he’s nuzzling into my neck, nibbling on me.

  “Ambry,” he mutters, his lips brushing my throat.

  “Snap out of it,” I whisper, shoving him away. “I can’t have you befuddled like this right now, Talon. I—” I grunt and hold back a giggle. “I—oh, come on. I need you.”

  The procession of cars slows to a stop at the base, and at least a dozen sirens land, wings flared in a splash of formidable colors, like overlarge butterflies circling Tyrus’s entourage.

  With their wings expanded, they have the Arcaians completely surrounded. Estelle raises her hand in a fist and abruptly, the shrieking ends.

  Talon’s heavy breathing strokes my neck. His hands curl at my waist, the heat of his body a siren call all in itself. His hands still tightening me to him, he draws back just enough. Those green eyes are almost painful to look at up close, especially now that the siren calls have stopped.

  They’ve stopped. And yet he’s still looking at me like he wants to memorize me.

  This is him. He is doing this.

  Unable to help myself, I let my hands climb their way up his back to his neck, to his feathery soft hair. His eyes close, and he folds his arms around me in a full embrace. The world revolves, the air flurrying. It takes all I have to move away.

  “The tears,” I say breathlessly, hating to pull away, not knowing when I’ll ever have the chance to be held by him again.

  A loud whump resounds behind Talon, and he whirls around, keeping his hand firmly around my waist.

  A vividly beautiful siren with pink eyes and short, pixie-like hair—and one I remember all too clearly from the time she was draped over Talon’s lap—stands behind us as if she’s been there the whole time.

  “What are you doing—?” I start, but the siren doesn’t give me a chance to finish.

  “I come with a message from Estelle,” she says. Her eyes are full of warning.

  “How does she know we’re here?” I ask, adjusting my shirt. And if Estelle knows we’re here, why didn’t she answer in the first place?

  “What message?” Talon asks, managing to sound unfazed while my voice was far too breathy.

  “Stay out of it.”

  Talon’s hand lowers away from me and he steps toward her. “Excuse me?”

  “Stay out of it,” the siren repeats before leaping upward, knocking Talon and me back with a powerful push of air from her
fuchsia wings. Vehicle doors slam below, stealing my attention back before I get a chance to wonder what she meant.

  Talon and I drop to the ground at the sound. Together, we crawl on our elbows back to the dropoff. A group of soldiers exits the first vehicle.

  “Four?” I ask. “Where are all the others? Tyrus attacked Mt. Rhine with only four soldiers? What about the battalion?”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Talon says.

  Gwynn steps out of the second vehicle, lackeyed by the guard who was in her room back at the palace. But to my surprise, no Tyrus.

  “Oh no,” I mumble in a wave of panic. Any minute now Estelle is going to lay it down, to punish Gwynn and her entourage for approaching unwanted. “We have to help her. Talon, we have to get down there.”

  Talon grabs my arm. “Ambry, she’s here for Tyrus.”

  “That’s exactly why we have to help her!”

  He lowers his head, a swoop of blond hair falling into his eyes. “I know you want to think the best of her, but she may not be who you think she is.”

  “She’s my friend, Talon.”

  He opens his mouth to argue when Estelle raises two hands, signaling her sirens, who then lower their wings. They make a daunting sight, these overly beautiful, winged women.

  “What’s happening?” Talon asks.

  “I don’t know. They’re all just—standing there, staring at each other. Can you hear anything?”

  “You should be on the ground by now, human,” Estelle calls out to Gwynn. Her voice carries to where we’re concealed.

  Gwynn steps forward, brushing her gloved hands across the khaki uniform she wears. The shirt is tailored to flare out at her waist. Her blonde hair twists into an elegant bun off the base of her neck.

  “What can I say, I never liked getting dirty.”

  “We will kill you for trespassing at Mt. Rhine. Then we will take your men and see how long they last before their minds turn to stone.”

  “Funny thing, how threats only work when you can actually carry them out,” says Gwynn.

  Estelle ruffles her feathers. In a breath she shrieks and spreads her wings, rising just slightly so her toes dip upward from the ground. The other sirens join, each rising only inches from the earth.