“Do not feel guilt for using what you had to achieve what you needed.” Arecibo’s hand slid along the railing and covered hers.
“I do not regret it. I believe we all have our weaknesses,” Christina murmured. “I simply found his first.”
A rush of bubbles churned the surface of the water and gushed around the bottom of the maintenance platforms. Christina’s gaze snapped to the group on the sand. Her father and sister, engaged in raucous laughter with the arriving guests did not look over. She took in a steadying breath, assuring herself they had not noticed. Clanging, hollow and vast, sounded as the armory mechanics did their work. She only wished that the welcoming party would move off the beach as soon as possible lest they realized what was being built underneath the platform.
“The king is in high spirits.” Arecibo collapsed the spyglass against his palm. “The excitement of impending war?”
“My father readies his armada.” Christina frowned, watching the king below. He shifted his robe and the gold chain of his cloak shone in the sunlight. The breeze ruffled his furred collar and obscured the lower half of his face as he turned to address her sister. “He longs for Spain’s domination of the skies as we once ruled the seas.”
“And the assault on Outer City?”
“My father’s navy will strike at Outer City. The rest of the invasion, Baumton’s threat to overtake the colonies after the outlaw ports are dealt with, that is yet to be determined.”
“When does the armada sail?” Arecibo asked, his gaze intense.
“As we hoped. A night attack. In three days’ time.” Christina eyed the sky above and spotted a fortified air ship. “There is no stopping it now. His honor is at stake. Particularly after your show at the Coalition of Khent assembly. They are still looking for pieces of Baumton.”
Arecibo sniffed, smoothing his collar, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Speaking of which, I see your sister has shown her hand where the coalition is concerned,” Arecibo said. “Your father twisted more than a few arms to assure her position as Interim Minister Secretariat until they replace Baumton. A coup for the royal family. Particularly an heir so recently deemed acceptable.”
“He would give her the sun if he could,” Christina snapped. “Heads rolled in his quest to secure Ysabella’s claim to his throne despite her sex. Do you want to know what His Majesty gave me?” She showed Arecibo the pouch. The purple silk weighed heavy in her palm and she lifted the flap biting her lower lip as she peered at the dagger. Exquisitely crafted in Spanish silver, the embedded sapphires and emeralds glimmered against her skin.
“This is handsome.” Arecibo touched the tip with one elegant finger.
“It bears the Bourbon and Savoy emblems intertwined. The king assures me my fiancé, Victor, will like it. The ninny felt the need to brag incessantly of his collection to my father the entirety of his last visit.” A shiver of disgust moved through her. “Apparently I alone am not enough to appease the Italians over the loss of their Signori Vataglia. My father must also shower them with gifts of our goodwill as well.”
“A wedding present?” Arecibo pulled the dagger, resting the blade against his long fingers and blowing his breath out slowly. “It is superbly made.”
“I am to give this to the prince when we meet. Which will be the night before our wedding at the banquet.” The thought of being traded to a complete stranger sent panic threading through her chest. To have no say over one’s own destiny, to be a pawn for men…Christina knew her place, she just refused to accept it.
A mind like yours was created to rule men, not sit next to them in silence.
It was the first thing Arecibo had said to her over two years ago at The Exhibition of Wonders in Versailles. She’d stolen into the fair, full of wonder and excitement at the inventions and demonstrations she had only read about. Wandering, anonymously, she’d thought, the area housing the hall of Absolute Zero, Arecibo’s admiring gaze as she spoke of gas lines and vapor capture was intoxicating. His hair, though silvery gray, was full and framed the smooth skin of his face. The color belied Arecibo’s age and vigor. He’d told her once the coloring was the result of an early tragedy in his laboratory. She wondered what had done such a thing.
Christina thought of their first meeting wistfully, still amazed at how he had conversed with her as an equal, one to be respected and lauded for her designs. Knowledge hard won against the traditions her position espoused. That she preferred math to needlepoint and engineering to etiquette ostracized her to those in her circles. But to him, to Arecibo, she was fascinating. The center of his world. A title as a second born girl she would never garner in the eyes of her family. A man of the mysterious Order of the Sword and Scroll who passed her secret messages via spies, and appeared when she least expected him, but right when she needed a dangerous ally or a source of strength.
Her life had never been the same. Her hopelessness and frustration became fuel to achieve her ambitions, her rightful spoils, despite what the king thought. Would she have dared to do what she now planned had she never met Arecibo? That she did not know.
Arecibo flipped the dagger, catching the blade and offering the handle to Christina, pulling her from her musings.
“It is my experience that Italians puncture easily,” he said with a grin.
She smirked. “This is your fault, of course. Had you resisted the urge to stab Vitaglia, I might not be in this position. Instead, I am now a peace offering to the Italians to get them to support my sister’s new appointment.”
“Oh, you would have been traded regardless,” Arecibo said and held her gaze. “If not to the Italian prince, then to another. With no sons and an ailing wife, there is little hope of the king keeping the throne for much longer despite what he thinks. His brother waits in the shadows for his turn to reign. Many believe he has a right to the throne regardless of Ysabella’s supposed legal naming. Her husband is French, and nobody trusts the French, particularly when a throne hangs in the balance.”
“You think there is intrigue afoot?” Christina looked at him in earnest. He always seemed to know, through his contacts and dealings, the murmurings of court. And not just Spain, but all of Europe held few secrets from Arecibo. He was both hated and feared for what he knew and what he did with that power. If her father knew she even spoke with him, she would be sent away immediately. Married off to a northern prince and most likely under guard. “What have you heard?”
“There are a few European houses that wonder if the annihilation of Outer City makes sense economically. They are a conduit of trade.”
“Trade for them as the black market goods filter through my father’s lands. But with those spoils come infection. What I said to Baumton was not wrong. The exiles find their way onto Spain’s shores, not the lands of other houses. It is our beaches that fight off shiploads of sick. Our hospitals that struggle to keep up with the dead and dying. My father’s country is in danger if nothing is done. What of the governors?”
“They meet to discuss the fate of their outlaws as we predicted.” Arecibo worried the end of his ponytail. “Everything is falling into place.”
“And it all hinges off one thing,” Christina said and sighed. “You must locate her.”
“Are you entertaining second thoughts, Your Highness?” Arecibo’s words, though sweetly said, carried a tang of warning.
Her heart paced up. Gaze caressing the severe angle of his jaw, she found herself leaning ever so slightly toward him drawn by the danger that seemed to seep from his every pore. “I am finished with my father. He would no sooner heed my warning if I told him his hair was aflame.”
Arecibo’s sly smile sent a flutter up her spine. “The time to take what is rightfully yours is fast approaching. Do you have the nerve to fight for it, Christina?”
“I have the nerve, and with you, the means,” she said finally. “There will be no stopping us.”
Another surge of white water churned from underneath the maintenance platform, revealing the hose
s and brass of the equipment.
Arecibo’s low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “They will never see us coming.”
“Yes,” Christina said, a swell of pride filling her. “That is by design.”
23
Metal beams riveted to the concrete ceiling of the facility groaned and creaked under some unseen pressure. As I walked beneath them, a steady drizzle filled puddles settled into divots created by what I suspected was almost a decade of water falling in a stream onto the floor. The smell of rust and salt water permeated everything. Dank and cold, the only heat came from the incessant churning engine that ran the air pumps in the center of the building. Leaning next to it, the warm concrete pillar stilled my shivering and allowed a welcome respite from what had thus far been a world of constant winter.
I moved on, wandering the corridors, taking in the cracks in the walls deep enough to insert my fingers. Seepage oozed in from every seam, every rivet. Hoses lined the dark hallways sucking out the flooding but clearly losing pace.
The eyes of those living here followed me into whatever room I entered, their bodies tense, faces unmistakably filled with fear. I counted fifteen so far. Too many to survive out here without making supply runs. I wondered if that was where the victims of the Trembling Sickness out in the tunnel had come from.
A sound behind me, a shuffle of feet, pulled my gaze, but I kept walking. Whoever it was had been following me since I’d left Hunley and the others in the laboratory. A strange flickering against the wall caught my attention, and I crept toward the room. Metal doors, domed at the top like ship hatches, sealed off areas of the facility, and I found I could only enter some of the spaces. Whatever power Hunley used for her laboratory did not extend to the rest of the rooms. The lone candle I held aloft only proved to cast more shadows than it banished leaving me with a disorientation I could not shake. As I neared the doorway, I peered in and my mouth fell open.
Large, round portholes circled with rivets the size of my fist lined the far wall. They concaved outward, into the ocean, and what I saw there was beyond words. A figure moved next to the center one and Ashton’s pale face peered back at me. How was it he always seemed to be just beyond what I could see?
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” He motioned for me to come closer. “I thought you might find this place.”
As I neared, I found I could not breathe. The low sun sent shafts of light slicing into the sea, illuminating the walls and ceiling with a wavering glow. My eyes locked on a creature just beyond the bulbous glass, and I leaned in to its hollow, sliding my palms along the smooth surface. It was as if I were peering out of the gigantic clear eye of a bug.
“We are under the water?” I licked my lips, mouth suddenly dry. “H-how far?”
“Approximately fifteen feet. We still have some light to see, but the mid-day hours are the most awe inspiring. You can see so much. For now, however…” Ashton set my candle next to the glass, and I gasped.
A squid larger than I had ever imagined, pulsed its translucent red arms as it flitted across my view. The undulating body of an eel slid against the surface, and I jumped. It hit the barrier and the charge between its teeth lit up Ashton’s face for a moment. In those few seconds, I caught the moving silhouettes of dozens of other swimming creatures further out. Some appeared larger than a full-grown man. “What is this place?” I leaned my face against the glass of the porthole, attempting to peer in every direction at once full of fear and fascination.
“It was at one time built to serve as a bunker for the governors should there be another disaster like The Great Calamity.” Ashton’s breath made the candlelight flicker and cast his angular features in half dark. He looked every bit a spy of The Order. Mysterious and dangerous. I told myself to remember that. His secrets tended to hurt me. “The earth proved too unstable even this far from the epicenters. Constant repairs, the cold, the distance to re-supply all caused it to be abandoned.” Ashton continued as he tapped the glass absently with his knuckles, a nervous gesture, if I was not mistaken. A memory flashed of him doing it before. In a study, or was it a captain’s cabin? It was a moment before I realized he was speaking again.
“What?”
“I said that Hunley is merely frightened. They all are. They mean no real harm.”
“That chamber seemed real to me, Ash,” I said softly. “What they are doing is…what are they doing, actually? How did those knights get out here in the first place? This laboratory of Hunley’s is something I would expect of The Order. Not you.”
“They make supply runs. There is nothing here to hunt or harvest.” Ashton shrugged. “There were supplies a half a year ago when I first brought them here, but enough for the three initial scientists that escaped Arecibo.”
“Were they attacked? I do not understand.”
Ashton shook his head. “Hunley said they encountered an air ship under attack on the journey back from a trading post in the Minnesota dome. A downed vessel that they stopped to help. It was there they took on the survivors. A nurse, a mechanic, others. They were attempting to flee to the north but things went wrong. They were spotted by a patrolling blockade ship and tried to outrun them. Both ships crashed, and Hunley rescued the survivors.”
“That doesn’t explain the knights.”
“Pru is…” Ashton ground his jaw. “She lost her brother to the Trembling Sickness and Tremblers killed her fiancé after they got caught in a horde of them trying to escape a dome after the Reaper invasion. She told me once that she believes the Solenium is a path to a cure or at least an explanation. I think that Pru strives to save others from the sickness to somehow make up for not being able to save the one person in the world she had left. She saw the two knights there…”
“That is terrible,” I said. I knew that pain. The Trembling Sickness took those we’d loved in such a horrific way. “So that is why she takes the Solenium?”
Ashton shrugged. “The Trembler Knights are the only other source, save for mining it out of the deep. Pru must have thought the knights at the crash site had died and were no longer a danger. She brought them back to the lab to study.”
“That was a bad idea,” I breathed, secretly impressed by Hunley’s bravery.
“Clearly.” Ashton continued. “There was some sort of outbreak afterwards. The knights were not dead after all.” He motioned for me to follow him. “Come, I want to show you something.”
We left the room and proceeded down the corridor. My boots splashed in the puddles, and I found myself almost huddling into the light of the candle for its minute warmth. At the end of the hallway, double metal doors stood ajar. Peering in, I saw several sheet-covered forms on tables.
“What is this?”
Ashton sighed. “A nightmare.” He gestured toward one of the forms, and we gathered at the bedside. The room, cold and dank, vibrated with the pumps working hoses at our feet. I hugged myself, not liking the jitters rattling through me. They were small, but unmistakable symptoms of my affliction.
“What is this place?” I repeated.
“A morgue of sorts, I suppose,” Ashton said and pulled back the covering in one motion.
I turned away, a whimper escaping my lips. “Ash, what are you doing?”
“Look at them, Charlie,” he whispered, his gaze flitting to the doorway.
“No, I would rather not.” I took a step away, but he caught my arm. “I have seen enough of their ruined faces for a lifetime.”
“I need you to look.” His voice, urgent, confused me, and I chanced a glance. “Do you see?”
“See what?” Hand over my mouth, I gulped down the bile rising in my throat. The body still wore the chest plate and arm guards of Order Knights.
“Really look,” Ashton took my chin in his hand, and gently turned me so that I faced the head.
I did not understand at first, so strange was the juxtaposition of young unlined skin with the ragged mouth of someone that had chattered their teeth to jagged stubs. Forcing myself to take in all
that I was seeing, a slow sickness settled cold and heavy in my gut. The unmistakable circle of pale around the eyes that came with wearing goggles in the sun, the darkened skin of the hands despite the blue creeping up the fingers, and the streaks of tears cutting through the blood and dirt on his cheeks. Branches of dark blue rose up his neck like those on the victims of the ill-fated air ship that crashed into Port Hayden.
“This is a boy.” I gripped the edge of the bed stopping only when the corrective shocks twitched my muscles. “This young man is from Outer City.”
Nodding, Ashton walked over to the body next to it and ripped back the sheet. Another youth. Just as the first. “They all can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. Youths in the armor of men.”
“These Trembler Knights,” I breathed. “They are the missing?”
“If we are correct, then we have found the young people who disappeared from Outer City these past two years.” Ashton said. “You were right, Charlie. Here is your confirmation.”
“Arecibo is stealing an army.” I walked from bed to bed, seven in all, gently peeling back the shrouds. My throat ached more and more with every reveal of a youth, no older than Mara had been when she’d died, suffering from the ravages of the terrible blight. But more so, their arms and legs encased in what was surely the shock-equipped mechanica Arecibo created to harness their trembling, was more heartbreaking. My fingers rested on the rope lashing a lad’s wrists to the table. Bound. As I had been. I had led men. These were children. I looked over at Ashton. “He has to be stopped.”
“I hesitated to show you this because of what you might do, but I could not keep this hidden.” Ashton pulled the covers back over their faces, his jaw working. “The other Trembler Knights, they were given a choice. Convicted criminals and traitors told that they could serve their time in Order prisons or to serve as Arecibo’s ‘volunteers’.”
Chasm Walkers Page 19
