by C. R. Grey
“Maybe you all have rubbed off on me,” Hal said. “Phi and Carin, Tori and her snakes. And now that you’ve Awakened…I’ve got to keep up!”
They set their sights on the Sly Lobster. They would spend the night hidden among the cargo on the covered barge as it floated upriver to The Maze—that is, if they managed to board without being seen. Several men stood posted where the barge was tied to the dock. An open space about as long as a classroom stretched between them.
“Maybe we could dive in farther up the dock and swim to the other side, where they wouldn’t see,” Bailey suggested. “Stay hidden under the boards until the coast is clear.”
“Dive into that?” Hal motioned to the Fluvian, which was a light shade of green with a layer of debris and oil on the surface. “I’d rather stay up here. But what we need is a diversion.” He dug into his vest pocket, and produced two small, stonelike objects, each the size of a snail. The stunners.
“How did you get those back?” Bailey asked, impressed.
“Taylor’s not the only sneaky one in the family,” Hal said. “I nicked them from his jacket pocket one day while he was at lunch. I don’t have your throwing arm, though.” He handed the stunners to Bailey. Together, they peeked over the side of the crate to find the best place to launch them.
“There,” said Hal, pointing to the end of the barge where the steerage cabin sat. Three of the five guards were clustered in that space. “If we get them all to the front, maybe we can get up the gangplank before—”
Bailey didn’t let Hal finish; he stood up and hurled the first stunner toward the front of the barge. A blinding flash of light exploded in front of the steerage cabin, causing Bailey to shield his eyes with the back of his hand. Hal grabbed Bailey’s elbow and yanked him down so they were both crouching behind a crate. It was just in time—they could hear the guards running past them along the pier to investigate.
“What were you saying?” Bailey asked Hal.
“That we need to run along the dock to the barge’s shipment-loading end, but all the guards were supposed to be occupied!” Hal had peeked over the crate and pointed at the one man who remained at his post, craning his neck to see what the commotion was instead of joining the others.
“Ants,” muttered Bailey. He held the last stunner in his hand. At the front of the barge, the other men were talking loudly with a sailor who’d been on board when the stunner hit.
“Don’t know what it was—I couldn’t see a thing!” the sailor exclaimed.
Bailey readied himself to make another throw.
“As soon as I throw this, run as fast as you can to the cargo hold,” he said. “We need to be up that gangplank before any of the other guards make it off the front of the barge, okay?”
Hal looked carefully at the distance between them and the gangplank.
“All right,” he said. The two boys crept behind the crates, closer to the other end of the barge, knowing that the longer Bailey waited to throw the last stunner meant more time for the other guards to return to their posts. As they neared the final crate, Bailey rose and threw the stunner. It was just like Flicking a blob of paint at an opponent in Scavage—the stunner whizzed through the air and hit the final guard on the shoulder. The sun had set completely by this time, and the burst of light was so intense that Bailey’s eyes stung. He blinked hard and saw stars, and when he reopened them he saw Hal make a run for it; Bailey raced behind him to the covered cargo hold. Together, they ducked under the thick canvas stretched over the back end of the barge, and slid into the darkness among the boxes and crates underneath.
They lay flat behind a large wooden box, waiting to make sure no one had seen them. Hal turned onto his back, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
“It’s a good thing I’m nearly blind already,” he whispered, “or those things would have done the job for me.”
As Bailey’s eyes adjusted, he saw a dark shape atop the crate take form. It made no movement, and neither did Bailey. What seemed like entire minutes passed, and finally Bailey could see that the figure—a giant metal bird—was not going to strike. Its slick, black-painted wings folded behind it as it stared forward, unseeing and unblinking.
“Nature’s ears, that’s creepy,” said Hal.
“It’s Viviana’s,” said Bailey. “One of those Clamor-birds Gwen told us about. Doesn’t look like it’s on, though.”
It was then that he noticed the box underneath the metal bird. It was a shipping crate as tall as Hal, and blazoned diagonally across its wooden side in red were the words RECKON, INC.
“Look! That’s what the note said!” Bailey said, shaking Hal’s shoulder and pointing. “Reckon, Inc.—not Reckoning; it’s the name of a company or something.”
The barge shuddered underneath them, groaning into motion. The sound of lapping water beat rhythmically outside the cargo hold. They were on their way to The Maze.
BAILEY SHIFTED AMONG STRIPS of newspaper packing and some very uncomfortable cooking pots; he couldn’t sleep, despite the fact that he’d gotten no rest on the rigimotive the night before, either. They’d found a crate with a loose top that made a good hiding place, but despite his exhaustion, Bailey was afraid to shut his eyes. He thought of Taleth, who he knew was frightened and somewhere in the hills, and the mysterious crate that shared the barge with them. After seeing the name RECKON, INC. stamped onto the side, Bailey had wanted to pry it open on the spot. It was Hal, as usual, who’d held him back.
“There’s a whole night’s ride to go! If we open up a crate now, what happens if someone walks in?” Hal had asked. “I’ll tell you what—they won’t have far to look before they find whoever opened it. Let’s wait until we dock in The Maze, break it open, and hopefully get off this barge before they find us.”
And so Bailey sat awake in the cramped crate while Hal slept, looking through a hole in the boards at the red letters, only a few feet away, that spelled out the answer to a mystery. The hours seemed to slide by at a slug’s pace.
Finally, the canvas cover over the barge lightened, and the sun rose outside. The barge began to slow, and Bailey crawled out of the crate toward the edge of the cargo hold. Looking out, he saw a pier ahead of them. A small city of low stone buildings stretched from the river up into a range of wide hills covered in crags and weathered trees.
“Hal,” he said, shaking him awake. “We’re here.”
“Oof,” said Hal, stirring out of sleep. “Not the most comfortable pots I’ve ever slept on.…” He shifted up into a crouch to peer out the side of the crate. “You’re sure no one’s around?”
Bailey nodded. “Now’s our chance,” he said. His heart thumped in his chest as he and Hal approached the Reckon, Inc. crate.
“We’ve got to move this bird,” Hal said, pointing up to the Clamoribus.
The two of them climbed on top of the crates neighboring the Dominae shipment. Bailey’s hands shook as he took ahold of one wing of the metal crow and Hal took the other. The bird was lighter than he’d imagined it would be, and the metal was cool under his fingers. They eased it over the side of the Reckon box and set it down atop another crate.
Just as they were about to pry open the lid of the Reckon, Inc. crate, they heard a noise from the far end of the cargo hold. Three men entered, talking and joking loudly to one another.
“Quick,” Hal said, pulling Bailey back to the crate where they’d slept. They tried to slip back inside without making a noise. Bailey pulled the top closed, praying that the men hadn’t heard them.
“So, this lot’s going straight to factory row,” said a thin-voiced sailor. “And the rest stays in the storehouse to be picked up later. Got it?”
Two other voices sounded their assent, and Bailey heard the scrapes, grunts, and footsteps. The cargo was being unloaded. He squeezed his hands into fists, hoping with his whole body that the crate he and Hal sat in was going to the same place as the crate from Reckon, Inc. The sound of heavy footsteps drew closer to the crate.
/> “Ants, another Reckon shipment. These give me the creeps,” said one of the laborers.
“Why? What’s in it?” asked the other.
Bailey strained to listen as the two men heaved the Reckon, Inc. crate onto a large, flat dolly.
“Haven’t a clue,” said the first man. “But it’s not about what’s in it as much as where it’s going. You haven’t heard about the factory?”
“Only that they’ve been offering jobs.”
“Don’t take one,” said the first man. “My neighbor tried for one of those jobs. Miriam. Animas Sparrow. Always had birds flying around her.”
“What about her?” asked the second man.
The two men grunted as they straightened the crate on the dolly.
“I saw her when she came back—she was only supposed to take a day job, but she came wandering back home after being gone for three days. Couldn’t tell us what had happened. Her words didn’t make any sense; she just whispered to herself.…”
“Went nutty, eh?”
Bailey held his breath. The two men had stopped to catch their own. The crate stood solidly on the dolly, towering and ominous.
“Their wings, their claws. That’s what she was whispering, over and over,” the man said. “Their wings, their claws. There weren’t a sparrow who’d go near her after that.”
Bailey heard the other man let out a low whistle.
“Ants alive. You’ve got me shuddering,” said the second man. “Don’t want to touch this thing now.”
The first man sighed.
“Think of it this way—we move the boxes down here on time, we won’t find ourselves having to look for work up the hill. So let’s get a move on.”
The men went silent, except for a few grunts as they rolled the dolly with the Reckon, Inc. crate off the barge.
Bailey breathed out heavily as they left.
“Bailey,” whispered Hal. “It must have been something to do with those machines. What do they do?”
Bailey didn’t have time to answer—footsteps echoed on the boards.
“This one’s for the storehouse, then?” said a voice.
The next thing Bailey knew, he was jostling around in the crate as the two men lifted it onto another dolly. They were wheeled out of the cargo hold, down the gangplank, and into the cold, dark interior of a shoreside warehouse. The men dropped the crate without ceremony or care, and Bailey felt a fresh bruise form on his rear end where he’d collided with one of the cast-iron cooking pots packaged in the box along with them.
The boys waited until long after they heard the door of the storehouse clank shut to make sure no one would see them emerge. Bailey lifted the top of the crate just an inch, and looked around. They were alone in the warehouse—but he didn’t see the giant metal bird anymore. It, along with the Reckon, Inc. crate, had been taken to the factory, wherever that was.
“Come on.” He gestured to Hal. The storehouse was a long, metal room. Cutouts in its rusty roof let in shafts of light, but inside was as silent and cold as a cave. Together, they crept to the door, and carefully peered out. The serpentine streets of The Maze lay before them. The shipyard was empty except for a flock of river birds, circling and cawing above the docks. A weed-patched alley led away into the city. Beyond the red roofs of The Maze, Bailey could see the crest of the hills, covered in dead, leaf-bare trees.
The boys set off into the alley. They saw barely anyone on the streets as they walked to the hills beyond the town. Bailey felt a stirring in his chest that he hadn’t felt since they’d left Fairmount—Taleth was not far away. In fact, the streets they walked through seemed so uncannily familiar, and he knew she had seen them too.
“Taleth was here,” he said to Hal. “It’s like the bond is telling me where to go.”
Hal smiled. “It’s like that sometimes,” he said. “Can you tell where she is now?”
Bailey shook his head. He wished he knew how to bring on a more intense connection—if he could only see through her eyes right then, he might know where he was headed. He’d go whichever direction he needed to save her.
From the path up the hill, they could look behind them and see The Maze spreading out over the Fluvian harbor like a rust stain. It wasn’t until they’d reached the peak of the first hill and begun their descent into a narrow valley that the vegetation grew taller and thicker. The trees were just as stark as they had been in The Maze, but Bailey was relieved that they did not have to trudge through snow. They kept to the path that led down into the valley and slept under the cover of some low-bending branches as the temperature plummeted that night.
The next day they woke to a cloud-hazy sunrise and ate a handful each of pear slices before they set off again. The path wound them into the heart of the valley and up the other side.
Hours had passed when Bailey finally felt a desperate pull from Taleth. Her fear overcame his mind, and his heart rate rose. Taleth could sense that he was near. She was confined to a cage or cell. He could feel the cool metal of the bars as she pressed her head and flanks against them. At the sound of footsteps on stone, she began to growl.
“Who are you thinking of, my pretty beast?” came a deep, threatening voice. Then Bailey snapped to, back to the valley.
“What’s the matter?” asked Hal.
“I can feel Taleth—she’s afraid. It’s almost like she knows we’re coming, but she doesn’t want us to.” He wished he could have stayed in her thoughts longer, to see who was speaking to her, and to comfort her. Did she know that he sensed her? He’d ask Tremelo someday if that was what it felt like to be life-bonded…if he and Taleth made it back to Fairmount safely, and if his teacher decided to return.
Hal steadied his glasses on his nose and pinched his lip between his teeth.
“We have to keep going,” said Bailey, sensing Hal’s hesitation. “We can’t just leave her.”
Hal nodded. “I know—I just wish I knew what we’re going to do when we find her. This could be a trap.”
“There isn’t another way,” Bailey said, and pushed past Hal to continue on the path.
As the sun set that night, the boys had reached the other side of the valley. The Dust Plains stretched out beyond the next hill, flat and spotted with patches of dried, dead grass poking up through the crusty dirt. Bailey’s chest thudded with knowledge of Taleth’s presence. Standing on the crest of the last of the Red Hills, he felt pulled to her as he looked out over the moonlit plain.
“She’s somewhere close,” he told Hal. “If we keep going, we can find her by morning.”
“We’re not going down the side of the hill in the dark.” Hal said. “We’d be safer setting up camp. We can head into the Plains at daybreak.”
“But we’re so close,” said Bailey. “And I have the claw.”
“We’re not close—not by a long shot. We’re still half a day from the Plains if we follow the path!” Hal exclaimed. “And the point is to stay safe so we don’t have to use weapons. What exactly do you propose to do? Lunge at an assassin with a single tiger claw?”
Bailey tossed his knapsack down.
“We’re going to have to be ready for a fight at some point, Hal,” he said. “Like you said, it won’t be easy.”
“But you’re so eager for a fight all the time,” said Hal. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, so that’s all the more reason not to go looking for trouble now. Seriously, you’ve almost been killed how many times in the last six months?”
Bailey clenched his fists.
“If that’s how you feel, then why bother coming with me?”
“Because you need someone to protect you—” Hal began.
“And that’s you?” scoffed Bailey.
“I mean, someone to protect you from getting yourself in trouble!” said Hal. “You’re going to wind up getting killed unless you start thinking things through!”
“I follow my instincts,” snapped Bailey. “Maybe you should try it. Who wants to be around someone who’s afraid of eve
rything? I bet Tori doesn’t. In fact, I know she doesn’t.”
Hal was silent for a moment, and Bailey could almost feel the workings of Hal’s rational brain trying to come up with the perfect comeback.
“Do whatever you want” was all Hal said. Then he turned and walked heavily over to a tree to set up camp.
Bailey didn’t follow. He felt tired in more ways than one. He was tired of worrying and feeling watched, tired of being told what to do—be careful, stay hidden, be on guard. Of course, it had been sound advice—but he wondered how much longer he could go on like this, hiding and ducking attention, only to end up in more trouble.
Bailey began to walk down the path. He kept an eye on the stars to the northeast, trying to memorize them in case he needed to cut away from the trail to get to Taleth. Still, his mind wandered back to Hal. Bailey never would’ve made it this far—or still be alive—if not for his friend. He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back toward his camp.
At first, he thought that the faint whispering sound he heard was the wind—but he’d soon realized that the noise was the beating of small leathery wings. The hillside was full of lively bats. Bailey reached the top of the hill, and from there, he could just make out the fluttering shapes that flew from branch to branch across the treetops. Up in a gnarled old oak in the middle was Hal, hanging upside down.
Quietly, Bailey hiked a little ways over the hill. Hal watched as he climbed up to his branch and awkwardly hooked his knees over it.
“What do you want?” asked Hal.
Hanging upside down, Bailey felt his blood run down—or rather, up—his whole body.
“Why are you hanging like this?” he asked. “Doesn’t it make your head hurt?”
“No, it helps me think,” Hal said curtly. He wouldn’t look at Bailey. Bailey sighed. They had enough to worry about already without him saying things he didn’t mean.
“I’m sorry I said that about Tori,” he confessed. “It isn’t true. Tori really cares about you.”
“Now I know you’re just trying to make me feel better,” said Hal.
