by Amy Braun
But not before its needle sliced through the lower part of my throat.
Pain flared along my neck and shoulder as the world exploded into white light. I landed on the ground, but couldn’t see it. Coughed, but couldn’t breathe. Moved, but couldn’t stand. When I tried to get up, my head tumbled like an angry tidal wave. The whiteness of the world began to fade, and soon everything went black.
***
“She’s breathing.”
“Guess that means she’s not dead.”
“Damn. I wanted her boots.”
I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the sharp throbbing in my head while I tried to listen to the three voices over me. I blinked to let my vision clear, and stared at the three strangers crowding me.
The man on the left was stocky and muscled, his biceps nearly exploding from his navy blue work shirt. Black stubble covered his head and his eyes were nearly as dark as his skin. The snarling face of a rabid dog was tattooed along the length of his right forearm. At first I was scared of him, but there was no anger or ill intent in his face. He was even smiling a little bit.
On the right was a pretty woman with tanned skin and a whirlwind of dark brown hair chopped at her shoulders. She was lean and petite, wearing a brown leather vest that curved to her shape. Around her neck was a slender silver chain with a simple, silver rectangle pendant resting under her clavicle. Her baggy black pants were held up by a leather belt decorated with pistols and knives. None of those weapons seemed to match the sparkling vigor in her dark brown eyes.
Between them was a man in a dusty leather jacket with tarnished gold buttons and grey piping. Thin grey cords dangled under the right shoulder board, and the outside of the high collar was designed with gold waves and swirls. It was a military frock, yet there were no medals on his chest. Under the jacket was a loose white shirt with the three top buttons undone, revealing smooth, tanned skin underneath. He wore black leather gloves, buckled pirate boots, and black pants with a thick brown belt wrapped around his waist, tying a flintlock pistol to his right hip. On the left side was a leather scabbard holding a cutlass. His chestnut hair was thick and tousled, and he stared at me with roguish, tawny eyes.
They stepped back to give me space and let me slowly stand up. I was still outside where I had fallen. My head felt ten times too big as it pounded behind my eyes. The lower half of my throat burned. The painkillers had worn off, and now I felt like I had been thrown down a jagged hill. I let out a small groan and put the heels of my palms against my eyelids. Once it went away, I could take Abby and–
A sharp pain tightened in my chest. Abby.
I dropped my hands and looked around.
The skiffs were gone. Nine bodies lay in piles of drying blood. My sister wasn’t among them. She wouldn’t have gotten to the manhole in time, and would have refused to leave me behind. That could only mean one thing.
No, no! I thought as my breathing became raspy.
I looked up at the Behemoth, willing it not to be true. But the skiffs were back in their docks under the monstrous ship.
I stumbled forward, shoving past the strangers and tilting my head up to get a better look at the Behemoth. I tried to tell myself it hadn’t happened. That she made it to safety and was back underground waiting for me. I ran drunkenly to the closest manhole cover, grabbed the edges, and pulled it open. My body ached with the effort, but I had to know she was down there. I had to see.
“Abby!” I cried.
My voice echoed into the darkness. There was no response.
“Abby!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!”
I ignored the angry whisper behind me. I staggered to my feet, heart crashing against my ribcage. I breathed in shakily, then followed my gut reaction, and looked up.
The Behemoth lingered ominously, spewing thick smoke into the sky. Taunting me.
She was there. With them. A prisoner, to be tortured and–
I shook the thought from my head. Couldn’t let it consume me. I had to do something. But what? How was I going to get up there? How was I going to get Abby back?
“Want to bet she’s lost her mind?” taunted the female voice.
“Don’t think it’s her mind that’s missing,” came a gruff reply.
I heard the voices, barely understanding what they were saying about me. I lumbered to the wall close to where the first skiff landed and impaled the unlucky guard. It was gone, leaving nothing but a pool of fresh blood behind. I swayed and crashed into a standing wall, sending a sharp bite of pain through the cut on my shoulder to the slice on my neck. I breathed heavily, looking up at the Behemoth again.
“Hey lady, are you still with us?” the deepest voice asked.
“My sister’s taken,” I mumbled. “I need to get her back.”
“You can barely walk,” remarked the gruff voice.
I turned around, finding the rogue and his friends had caught up to me.
The rogue glanced at the Behemoth, then lowered his eyes and stared at me with no expression on his face. His voice was emotionless when he said, “If the Hellions took her, she’s as good as dead.”
I don’t know why I acted the way that I did. Maybe it was the result of the despair bundled into a lumpy knot in my heart and tied with hatred. Maybe the pain in my body had damaged the rational part of my brain. Maybe I just wasn’t thinking or willing to accept the truth. In the end, it didn’t matter. I still punched the rogue in the jaw.
It wasn’t an overwhelmingly powerful punch, but it was enough to make him stagger to the side. I shook out the dull throb in my knuckles as his head swung to the right. The brunette woman raised her eyebrows, and the stocky man stifled a laugh. The rogue slowly turned his head to mine, glaring at me with sharp tawny eyes. I glared right back, daring him to make a move. I looked at the flintlock, wondering if I could take it from him before…
On the butt of the flintlock was a silver skull with a gaping mouth and black gems for eyes. I looked at the cutlass, and saw the same symbol. All the anger and defiance I felt began to simmer away. I cursed myself for not having seen the engraving before I decided to punch this stranger.
“You’re marauders,” I breathed.
The rogue crossed his arms. “Noticed, did you?”
I stared, but didn’t say anything.
Before the Hellions, marauders had controlled the skies. Daring and deadly pirates, they had staged raids through the clouds, capturing any vessels they could and disappearing before they could be caught. They’d been a threat all over Aon, but were at constant war with the Sky Guards of Westraven where trade was highest. They’d played bloody games of cat and mouse, until the Discovery.
Westraven was an isolated city of industry and trade, but it was not a large area. Housing became difficult to find, especially since building houses in the sky was impractical. The traffic was too high, the risk of accident too great. So the mayor and his Ministry ordered scientists, engineers, and explorers to find new areas to inhabit. The mission was expensive and required hundreds of workers. Including engineers like my parents.
Aside from the occasional close encounter with marauders, the mission was uneventful. Until the day the exploration crew discovered a tear in the sky. My mother wrote to me, describing a jagged black slash in the middle of a dark blue night sky that lead to another dimension. Another world. They called it the Breach, and they took their chances and entered the unknown. But so did a group of marauders– Robertson Kendric and his son Davin, two of the most famous and fearsome marauders in all of Aon, who made their home in Westraven.
Entering this other world, both groups discovered the Hellions. No one truly knows what happened beyond the Breach. My parents never spoke of it. But both the Kendric Clan and the explorers tore out of the Breach. A few years later, the Behemoth ripped out of the sky to steal and slaughter and destroy. No one had the time to ask why they were doing the dreadful things they were doing.
When the Kendric Clan was killed by the Hellio
ns, every band of marauders took to ground. They built new empires underground, but aside from the former marauders now working as Garnet’s muscle, I had never crossed them until now. With the twenty foot high barricades set by the Hellions to surround Westraven, I should have known I would encounter them one day. Now I had, and I didn’t know what to do.
“I...” I started, hurrying to find my voice. “I don’t have much–”
“You have nice boots,” the brunette pointed out again.
I glanced down at them, not seeing what made them nice. They were scuffed and dirty, but steel-toed and strong. No way was I giving them up. I wasn’t going to run around Westraven barefoot. I looked at her with an expression that told her just that. The brunette rolled her eyes.
“Then take off your belt,” the rogue stated flatly.
I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”
“Your belt and all the tools on it. Give them up.”
He might as well have asked for my life. Being an engineer was the only reason I’d survived this long. My inventions gave me defense, and my tools allowed me to create more. I could build, destroy, remodel and create in exchange for food or shelter. My tools were part of me, and like my boots, they were irreplaceable.
“No.”
The rogue took a step closer to me. I balled my fists and narrowed my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see my heart banging around my ribcage and the fear in my eyes.
“I’m not asking. Give us your belt, and leave with your life. Besides, you have a bigger problem right now, don’t you? That sister of yours?”
I fell into a trance of despair. My heart felt like it had been carved out, the emptiness pulsing with pain instead of blood. I dragged air into my lungs, only making my chest ache more. My head was spinning, but I held my ground and glared at him.
“I have a better offer. Whatever you want fixed, I can repair.”
The rogue’s eyes traced over my face, as if he could read every expression there. I don’t know if it was part of being thrown around and abused, but I felt a little lightheaded under his gaze.
“You’re an engineer,” he stated.
“Yes,” I answered. “I work for Garnet Dayton.”
“Dayton?” exclaimed the stocky man. “Damn. You must be good at your job.” He glanced past me to the rogue. “What do you think, Sawyer?”
I turned to look at the tawny-eyed rogue. Sawyer.
“I think if Dayton really wants her back, he better be willing to pay.”
“Wait, what?!” I shouted as Sawyer grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the alley. “What are you doing?! Let go of me!”
“Stop shouting,” Sawyer hissed. “The Hellions could still be out here.”
“I don’t care!” I screamed back. “I need to find my sister! Let me go!”
I whirled around and swung my fist at his face. Sawyer was quicker, letting go of my arm so he could grab my fist. Golden eyes blazed intensely at me, sending a nervous flutter through my heart.
“You had your shot. You only get one.”
Sawyer pulled my wrist and spun me around until my arm was trapped behind my back. I growled and dug my heels into the ground, too angry to feel the hurt I was putting on myself.
“Please! I’ll do anything you want! Just let me go! My sister needs me!”
“Nash, get something to gag her.”
The stocky man, Nash, looked at me and hesitated. “I don’t know, Sawyer. She looks like a biter.”
“Nash.”
He sighed. “Fine, fine, fine.” He reached into the breast pocket of his work shirt and pulled out a dirty strip of cloth.
“Gemma, you have anything to knock her out?”
“Besides a punch in the head?”
“Yes, besides that.”
Gemma took a thin vial of clear liquid and popped off the stopper. “Last dose I have. No more drugging and stealing for a while.”
She took the cloth from Nash and poured the vial over top of it. I screamed again, then rocked my head back. My skull collided with Sawyer’s nose, drawing a sharp grunt from him. And loosening his grip. I twisted until I was free and started running–
I wasn’t fast enough. Arms looped around my waist and trapped my hands to my sides. I tried forcing my head back again, but whoever was holding me dodged and tightened their grip.
“Wow,” Gemma said, coming around Sawyer’s right side. “She’s got nice boots and almost knocked Sawyer out twice. I like her already.”
Sawyer turned his head and glared at her, but she was still smiling at me. Before I could scream at her, Gemma stalked forward and pressed the cloth over my mouth. The rag smelled sickly sweet, and while I tried to hold my breath to fight the smell, I wasn’t able to. I gasped, sucking in the smell that went straight to my head. My vision blurred and my head became foggy. I groaned and blinked, trying to stay awake, but every breath dragged me deeper into darkness. My head spun one more time before everything turned black again.
Chapter 3
I woke up on a soft pile of blankets with a pounding head and a dry throat. I groaned and felt a bandage on my shoulder, another at the base of my neck. I lifted my hand to touch them and found that my wrists were bound in front of me with thick, scratchy rope. I sat up and looked for something on my tool belt, only to find that it too was gone.
“In case you decide to fight again,” an impatient voice said over me.
I looked up from my spot on the floor to find myself staring at Sawyer. He’d removed his gloves and frock coat and folded his arms over his chest. His biceps were outlined under the white cotton shirt, and I realized I’d underestimated how strong he probably was. While Nash looked like the kind of man who’d been lifting concrete slabs for fun ever since childhood, Sawyer’s muscles were leaner, built over time and hard work. Built for speed and precision.
My pulse began to quicken as I realized I couldn’t escape. I was still groggy from whatever Gemma had drugged me with. My body felt heavy and sluggish. Sawyer didn’t look the least bit tired– or reasonable– at the moment.
He unfolded his arms and revealed a silver flask that had been hidden behind his crossed arms. “Drink this.”
Sawyer held the flask out to me. I didn’t touch it. Just because Gemma claimed to use the last of her sleeping drug, didn’t mean she didn’t have more here… wherever here was.
When it became clear I would refuse to drink anything he offered me, Sawyer sighed and unscrewed the cap. He took a long swig of whatever was inside, swallowed, then lowered the flask. I watched for the slightest twitch, though I couldn’t imagine him poisoning himself. Marauders were reckless, but they weren’t reckless and stupid.
Usually.
“See? Perfectly fine. Now drink.”
I licked my lips, impossibly tempted. But who knew what he would do to me if I agreed? All these kind gestures– the bandaged wounds, the blankets, the flask– they all had to come with a price. No marauder acted with courtesy. Not unless they were trying to persuade their victim into doing something, and were too lazy to beat submission into them.
I closed my eyes and waited for my head to stop churning.
I opened my eyes again when I sensed Sawyer kneel down in front of me. He cautiously put his hand on my shoulder to steady me. His hand was carefully distanced from the wound where the Hellion’s needle had sliced me. I stared at the bandage and his hand, still trying to comprehend everything around me. I could see it all, but the information seemed to be registering a few seconds too late.
Sawyer waved the flask in my face. “The water comes for free. No strings attached.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And everything else?” Speaking with such a hoarse voice hurt my throat.
He grinned. “One thing at a time.” He nudged the flask closer. “Come on. It’ll dilute the rest of the drug. You’ll feel better.”
I hesitated, hating that I was forced to bend to his offer, but not having any choice. My body demanded water. It had bee
n hours since I’d had any kind of liquid. My throat was parched.
I twisted to take the flask, wincing at the angry bruises throbbing in my side. I took a slow drink from the flask. The moment the cool water touched my tongue, I became ravenous. Nothing had ever tasted so good. I tilted my head back and guzzled the rest. I didn’t stop to breathe until I finished every last drop. I dropped the flask and let the water work its way through my body. The fog in my head began to drift away. When I blinked, everything was clearer. I was still sore from the pounding I’d taken earlier, but other than being hungry, I felt fine. I looked ahead, starting to take in my surroundings.
