by Moira Young
Lugh jumps on the driver’s bench. The wheels start to move. Through the Field of the Fallen Mountain we go. Bram’s good horse, Ted, slips along the road, around the boulders. Nero flits from one to the next. Tracker paces behind.
If DeMalo’s there . . . if he’s there . . . please, please, don’t let him be there. Why would he be? He was at his retreat camp this mornin. Mind you, so was I.
It ain’t no part of our plan to hand me over. I’m jest to smooth us through the gate. Once we’re inside, in the belly of the beast as Slim calls it, we make haste to find Emmi an git out quick. We dunno what to especk once we’re inside. We’ll hafta depend on sharp wits, fast thinkin an swift moves. But. But. If all goes wrong an fer some reason I end up facin DeMalo once more, I know somethin about him.
I seen his weakness. The flush on his cheekbones. The whispers. The cries in the closeness of the tent. Not jest mine. His.
Of your own free will, you’ll come to me again. I’m in his blood. I’m a fever in his blood. It ain’t jest him that’s got power now.
An it ain’t jest DeMalo that preys on my mind.
The heartstone hangs around my neck. It’ll lead me to Jack. If he’s there, I’ll find him. An I’ll kill him.
Betrayer. Deceiver.
Of Maev an the Hawks an the Raiders. Of the forty dead at Darktrees. Of how many more that I don’t know about. Of Emmi. Of me.
The silent enemy – the tiny brown bottle – tucked aginst my breast.
A sharp knife deep in my boot sheath.
The anger starts to burn, deep in my gut.
We drop Ash an Molly where Bram planned we should. As the Field of the Fallen Mountain ends an the start of the treeline marks the final approach to Resurrection. They’ll beat fast through the woods, skirtin along the edge of the lake to the far end. Glasswater Tarn’s a league in length, near enough.
Bram hid three canoes aginst the day they’d be needed. He nursed high hopes of his newborn resistance. Up to now, he’d only used ’em fer his night-time scout expeditions to watch an learn what he could about Resurrection.
With a wave, Ash an Molly slink into the trees with Tracker an the horses an we jolt off. We won’t see ’em agin till we have Emmi safe with us. Then we’ll make the drop by rope down to where they’ll be waitin fer us in the canoes.
Ted pulls strong up the last bit of the slope, then we’re at the top. From where we are, the road runs a flat approach to the blank iron gate of the gatehouse.
Creed, Lugh an me, our priority’s Emmi, says Maev. Quick as we can, we find where they’re keepin her an we snatch her. Saba an Tommo, you git the ropes in place. Stick close to each other, okay? Everybody good?
We all make assent.
We know this ain’t a great sitchation, says Maev. But we’re smart, an fast. We go in, we find Emmi, we git her out. That’s it. An if you gotta kill anybody, do it quiet. All right, Lugh. Drive on.
My fingertips tingle. My insides judder. My stummick’s atwist with nerves an fear. My mind thinks clear. My eyes see sharp. It’s jest like I felt before fights in the Cage. I’m ready fer anythin. The red hot smoulders, ready to burn.
As we roll towards the gatehouse, Nero rides the cold mountain wind that whips around us.
There’s a guard tower on each side, one guard in each nest. They point their firesticks at us. Password! calls one.
I got better’n a password, brother! Lugh calls back. Shine yer lights down! See what I got in the cart!
Tommo an Creed haul me to my feet so’s I face the gate. Strong lanterns cut through the gloom. They settle on me where I stand. Creed shoves up my chin, so’s they git a good look at my cheekbone tattoo.
It’s the Angel of Death, says Lugh.
Someone shouts out a order. With a groan an a shudder an a creak of chain, the gate starts to slide to one side. They’re lettin us in.
Here we go, says Maev.
We drive into a big open courtyard with a swept dirt ground. It’s torchlit. Quite a few Tonton movin about. A little group on one side stretch an lunge an turn, all together. Graceful, one move flowin into the next one. None of ’em’s Jack.
We stop next to a gibbet, right in the middle. Two Tonton hang from it, still in their black robes. Their flesh ain’t decayin, it’s bein et. By birds, insects, rats. The stench is gruesome. Jack ain’t one of ’em. That’s all I got time to take in.
Eight or so Tonton’s already runnin at us. As two of ’em grab Ted’s head to stop him, the rest swarm around the back of the cart an it’s all a blur, a confusion, an inside of me the red hot pops an snaps, as they unhitch the back flap an bundle out Maev an me. Creed an Lugh an Tommo jump down.
The commander salutes. Long life to the Pathfinder!
Our boys do the same. Eyes on the commander. Playin the part of loyal Tonton. The commander smiles. He’s got snaggly teeth. His thin blonde hair’s in full retreat from his forehead.
Nice work, brother, he says to Creed. I’ll take her straight to the Pathfinder.
I break into a cold sweat as one of the guards hands him the end of my rope.
But, sir, we caught her, sir, says Creed. It’s only right that we hand her over.
I shouldn’t hafta remind you, brother, that we serve New Eden, not ourselves, says the commander. But under the circumstances, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Who’s this other female?
We caught her sabotagin, sir, says Lugh. Sector Ten.
You an yer patrol can hand her in fer interrogation, he says. That’s all.
Four Tonton start herdin ’em towards a door in the guardhouse walls. The commander starts walkin me towards another one. There’s two other Tonton with us.
We got inside Resurrection. But that’s all. The plan’s a bust already. I got no control. I’m tied so well, I got no chance to git away. But I can stumble.
I trip myself up. Twist to look to the darkenin sky. Nero! I yell.
The commander’s kept a firm grip on me an, even as I cry out, he’s yankin me upright an on we go. But Nero’s heard. He comes swoopin down at the Tonton, the commander an the two others. They duck, flailin at him an yellin. Nero’s a fearsome sight, screechin an flappin as he attacks.
Do somethin! yells the commander. Stop him!
Tommo’s already runnin this way. Nobody else moved to heed their commander. Must be skeered of birds. Or maybe jest crows.
You, the commander says to Tommo, you brought her in, didn’t you? Take the bird.
Nero’s settled on my head. Fluffin up his feathers an makin mean. Tommo lifts him offa my head.
Follow me, says the commander. The Angel of Death an her crow. That’ll please the Pathfinder.
We go through the door an it clangs shut behind us. We’re in dank gloom, lit only by a few wall torches. Almost right away, we’re goin down a open metal staircase. The commander goes first, pushin me ahead of him, behind us a Tonton guard, then Tommo holdin Nero, then the second guard bringin up the rear. We go down two floors.
We turn left. Then we’re marchin down a long, wide corridor. Rushlight torches gutter an smoke as they throw jagged pools of filthy orange light offa the walls, ceilin an floor. All concrete. It’s cool, a bit damp. We pass wooden doors on both sides. Each one the same, spaced regular. Each one bolted shut. My skin shivers. It’s my dream.
I’m runnin. I gotta find Jack. I know he’s here. Down a long, dark corridor. Torches throw ragged shadows across the stone walls.
I try to think how the buildin’s put together. Bring up in my mind’s eye Bram’s drawin in the dirt, the plan of this place. What he told us about it. We must be movin along the fourth floor. Behind each of these doors there’s a window. The lake should be on my left. The Field of the Fallen Mountain to the right. Okay, I know where I am. That’s somethin, anyways.
Our feetsteps echo, the commander’s heels a brisk
strike on the stone floor. I cain’t turn my head to look at Tommo behind me. As we approach other Tonton, they move aside an stand with their back pressed flat to the wall, until we pass.
Suddenly, the commander stops. I’ll take her on from here myself, he tells the two guards. He nods at Tommo. Yer with me, he says.
The Tonton give the clenched fist salute, turn snappy an march off in step, back the way we come. Now it’s jest me, Tommo, Nero an the commander.
He straightens his robes. Wants to impress the Pathfinder. Hand me in an take the credit.
You look good, I says.
Shut up! He yanks on my tied hands an hauls me behind him. The corridor goes on an on. We ain’t passed nobody fer a bit. Gotta take a chance. I shoot a glance back at Tommo. He nods. Do it now. Now!
I slam myself sideways into the commander. Knock him off balance. Nero attacks. Beak slashin, wings flappin. His hands fly up to pertect his face. Tommo charges at him, runnin him into the wall. The back of his head smacks aginst the stone. He crumples to the ground.
We pause fer a second. No runnin feet. No outcry. Untie me, I says to Tommo.
As he does, I glance around. A little ways ahead, there’s a shut door on the right. When I’m free, I run to it an shoot the bolt. It’s empty. The blueish light of early night shades the window.
Tommo’s already draggin the commander towards it, the rope dumped on top of him, Nero ridin on the rope. I take his feet. We lay him down. I feel his neck fer a pulse.
He’s alive, I says to Tommo.
We gag him with his own kercheef. Bind him with his own belt, ankles to wrists. We start to gather the rope in tidy loops. We’re both breathin hard. I check outta the window while we work. It’s a long way down to the Field of the Fallen Mountain below. A sheer, sick drop.
Now what? says Tommo.
We stick to our part of the plan, I says. Git this rope in place. Third floor, any lakeside window.
What if they cain’t find Emmi? he says.
We gotta trust each other, I says. We jest gotta do our bit of the plan. Right, let’s git outta here.
He shoulders the rope. I scoop up Nero. We bolt the door shut on the commander.
Sweet dreams, I says.
Back in the corridor, I only go five steps along when I notice. The heartstone’s warm aginst my skin. I touch it. Not a lot warm. But some. My flesh goosebumps. I stop. I turn my head to look behind me.
Nobody there. The room we jest left with its bolted door an the commander tied up. One gutterin wall candle. Then darkness beyond. I turn back. Tommo’s waitin fer me. He waves me to hurry. With every step that I take towards him, the heartstone starts to git cooler. By the time I reach him, it’s cold. I look back the way I jest come.
Jack. He’s somewheres nearby. The red hot tightens within me.
What’s the matter? whispers Tommo.
I look at him. You go on an git the rope fixed, I says. I’ll come find you. I got somethin I gotta do.
He frowns. What? No, we gotta stay together.
I won’t be long, I says.
I’ll come with you, he says.
No, this is somethin I gotta do alone, I says.
He’s about to say somethin else, so I kiss him. On the lips. Trust me, Tommo, I says. Here, take Nero with you.
I put him in his arms. Tommo hesitates, starin at me. Thoughts chasin over his face. Then, with a nod, not lookin happy, he goes off.
To kiss him like that. When I know how he feels, what he’ll think it means. Fergive me, Tommo. But needs must.
He’s got my bow with him. That’s okay. I slide the knife from my boot. I softpad back down the corridor. The heartstone starts to warm. No sound but my breath, my heartbeat.
One wall torch, almost out. Then darkness beyond. Darkness an silence. I take the torch from the wall. I hold it up to light my way. I don’t go far. The corridor ends after twenny paces. A stone staircase winds sharply upwards.
I’m at the bottom of a stone staircase. It’s steep, winds sharply upwards.
Saba. Saba.
The voice runs along the walls an up my spine. It settles in the dark places, deep inside of me. Like it belongs there.
Prickles run over my skin. Cold an hot at the same time. No. No voice. That was jest a dream. I feel the heartstone. It’s much warmer. I start to climb the stairs.
When I git to the top, there’s a wooden door. Old, scarred. The heartstone’s burnin hot. He’s on th’other side. I open the door. I step in the room. Near empty. Near dark. Rushlights. A candle. A high-backed chair. Turned to the fire in the hearth.
He gits up from the chair. He turns to face me.
I reach the top. There’s a wooden door. Old an scarred. That’s all there is. The stairs don’t lead nowhere but here. The torch goes out.
The heartstone’s hot on my skin. Jack’s inside. The red hot crackles an hisses.
Betrayer. Deceiver.
Of Maev an the Hawks an the Raiders. Of the forty dead at Darktrees. Of Emmi. Of me.
I clutch the knife tighter.
Slowly, slowly, I turn the handle. Slowly, slowly, I open the door.
I hold my breath. The door don’t make a sound. Not a sigh. Not a whisper. I inch it open, my knife ready at my side. A dim room. Rushlights. Rugs on the floor. A large table off to the left, covered with a cloth. One end of it set fer a meal with a chair, plate, cup, an lit candles.
The crackle of a fire. A solid, dark wood, carved settle chair, turned towards the fire in the hearth. Nobody in sight. A door to the right, slightly ajar. It’s another room. The light of a candle spills out. I can hear somebody movin around. Quiet sounds. One person.
Jack’s in there.
I slide inside. Ease the door to. I start to move towards the open door, my feet silent on the soft rug, knife clutched tight in my hand. My cold hand. I can feel the sweat on my upper lip. The heartstone sears me.
Where’s your escort?
DeMalo’s voice.
My heart leaps to my throat. I whirl around, the knife low at my side, outta sight.
DeMalo’s jest got up from the settle chair. There’s a book in his hand.
My escort, I says.
Two Tonton come through the main door, holdin trays with covered dishes. The smell of cooked food comes in with ’em.
Here they are, I says quickly. Right behind me.
Long life to the Pathfinder, they says, with a bow of their heads.
Put it on the table, brothers, he says. Set another place for my guest.
They rush to do his biddin.
My breath’s comin short an sharp. The blood’s roarin in my ears.
A woman comes outta the room with the open door. A servant woman who don’t raise her eyes as she scurries past me. Not Jack. The Tonton’s liftin the dish covers.
That’s fine, says DeMalo. We’ll serve ourselves. You can leave everything. He follows ’em to the door.
My mind’s workin cold. I drop the knife. Tuck it unner the edge of the rug with my foot.
Thank you, brothers, he says. I don’t wish to be disturbed. He closes the door behind ’em an locks it. He puts the key in his pocket. He looks at me.
The heartstone burns, fierce an steady. Like the heart of the fire in the hearth. Where’s Jack? He must be here somewheres.
You came, says DeMalo. Just like I said. Of your own free will.
So. He don’t know how I got here. Not yet anyways.
There’s somebody still in that room, I says.
I don’t think so, he says. He comes an pushes the door open. Shows me. It’s a bedroom. Whitewashed walls, a plain bed with a plain white cover. A small chest. Candles on the walls. No, he says. No one but us.
No Jack. Nowhere fer him to be hidin. He ain’t here. But still the heartstone burns.
We’re alone, I says.
Yes, he says.
But there was somebody else here, I says. Before I come in.
Just me and the servant, he says. And then the two guards, but you came in with them. Are you all right? You’re flushed.
I’m fine, I says, fine.
He touches my face. We have so much to talk about, he says. There’s so much I want to tell you, so much I want to know about you. But we’ve got all night. Tomorrow. The rest of our lives. I have something for you.
He goes to the chest an takes out a red dress. He hands it to me.
Another dress, I says. I take it with reluctant hands. You got a sister or somethin?
Or something. He smiles. Get changed and we’ll eat. He goes out an shuts the door.
There’s a lookin glass on the wall. I’m starin straight into it. He’s right, my colour’s high. The heartstone burns, but I ain’t got time to think about what that means. Not now. I jest gotta git outta here as fast as I can. Without no trouble, without raisin no alarm. How long since I left Tommo? A few minutes, no more.
The red hot’s runnin high in me. But I cain’t use it to fight, not in the normal way. This ain’t the Cage. DeMalo’s stronger’n me in body an mind. That means I gotta turn it. Try to use the red hot in my head, not my gut. I know what he does to me, I know the danger. I cain’t let him drown me like before. Disappear me.
I pull on the red dress an lace it up. I check myself in the glass, turnin this way an that. The dress dips low at the neck, nips tight at the waist, like somethin Molly might wear. I hardly recognize myself. I look womanly. That must be what he wants.
If you know yer enemy’s weak point, go fer it hard. I gotta be outta here in five minutes. Time starts now. I tuck Slim’s tiny brown bottle safely aginst my breast. My stummick’s fluttery with nerves. I take a deep breath. I open the door.
He’s pourin wine at the table. He looks up. You’re beautiful, he says. He holds a cup of wine out to me. I go over an take it.
A toast, he says. To a new world.
To you an me, I says.
We drink. His eyes look heavy. Bruised. Exhausted. Somehow I gotta distract his attention so’s I can doctor his wine.
