The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2

by J. V. Roberts

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Amar. Don’t you see? They’re toying with us. They intend to kill us.”

  Amar looked to Silas, mouth open in disbelief as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “What? No. You’re not going to…Silas, sir, please.”

  Lerah managed to sit upright. It felt like the house was floating on water. She held onto her head, trying to still the spinning.

  “You’ve got a smart woman, Amar. Better than you deserve.” Silas approached Nishi, took her hand, and kissed it. “I didn’t catch your name, dear.”

  Nishi raised her chin even higher and clenched her lips tight.

  “That’s not very nice. Maybe I’ll just beat it out of Lerah.”

  “Nishi! My name is Nishi!” she shouted as he raised his fist. “Don’t you touch that girl!”

  “Was that so hard? Jesus! What’s a man got to do to come by some common courtesy?”

  “Perhaps you should try acting like a man, first,” Nishi said.

  Silas walked backward, wagging his finger at her, his eyes on Amar. “She’s funny, too. Better than you deserve, Amar, I’m telling you, better than you deserve. I’m almost tempted to keep her around and just kill you.”

  “Kill us? Sir, why? Can you just tell me why?” The fragile old bastard’s knees were shaking.

  “Why what, old timer?”

  “Why do you want to kill us?”

  “Are you that dense? Really? Or are you just fuckin’ with me? Treason, old-timer. Being a traitorous piece of shit. You were hiding this surly little cunt.” Silas pointed at Lerah.

  “But…I—”

  “What? Are you gonna tell me you were just getting her cleaned up for me? That you were going to walk your wrinkled ass to the shoreline and give her back?”

  Amar nodded desperately. “Yes! Exactly what I intended to do!”

  Silas pursed his lips as he stood in front of Amar with his arms crossed, rocking slowly on his heels. “The sweat pouring from your brow tells me a different story.” He swiveled his head towards Nishi. “What about you, Nishi? You got the same story for me?”

  She met his fiery gaze with one of her own. “The only thing I’ve got right now is regret.”

  “Go on,” Silas purred, a hand propped beneath his chin.

  “Regret that I married a coward and regret that I didn’t cut your throat when you walked through that door.”

  “I love it!” Silas raised his hands in celebration. “Boys, you could learn something from this woman: fire, passion. I respect you, Nishi.” Silas removed the blade from the sheath on his belt, turning it menacingly, making sure that the metal caught the dim light streaming in through the open door. “And that’s why I’m going to kill you last.”

  Amar fell to his knees as Silas approached. “Please don’t! I’m begging you! I am with you! I am a Rebel! Pl—” His words were cut short as Silas’ hand clenched his windpipe and pulled him from the ground.

  Lerah extended a trembling arm from the bed, a soft protest bubbling from her lips.

  “A Rebel, you say?” He plunged the blade into the old man’s belly. “Rebels stand when they meet the reaper!” He jerked the blade right, opening up Amar’s belly, and spilling its contents onto the dusty floor. Silas took a step back and Amar clung to his shoulders. Legs shaking. Refusing to fall. Refusing to believe that he was dying. Silas stabbed him twice in the chest, straight through the heart. That did the trick. The life quickly bled from Amar’s body and he fell away.

  Nishi turned her head, lips pinched shut, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. He was a coward, but he was still her husband.

  Lerah tried to grab hold of Silas as he moved towards Nishi.

  He swatted her hands away and pointed the knife. “Bitch, I will kill you! Make another move on me and I’ll cut you to pieces, right where you sit!”

  Nishi turned and placed a hand on Lerah’s head. “It’s okay, dear. There’s nothing to be done. Please, do as he says.”

  Silas took Nishi’s hand. She shuddered and pulled it away. “That’s no way to act. I just did you a favor.” Silas motioned towards Amar’s corpse.

  Nishi looked into his eyes, hocked back a ball of phlegm, and spit in his face. “Get on with it.”

  Silas stood there looking stupid for a few seconds. Not moving. Blade hanging loosely by his right side. Then he slowly raised his left hand and wiped his face clean, leaving behind a wicked smile. The air in the room thickened. Everyone held their breath, confident that the next moment would bring about Nishi’s demise. But it didn’t. Instead, Silas laughed and sheathed his blade. “I admire that. Good for you. I think the blade has tasted enough blood for one day.” He shoved the old woman aside, yanked Lerah off the bed by her hair, and started dragging her towards the door. His men were all standing there, watching him, awestruck by the unanswered display of defiance. He looked to each of them and then dipped his head back towards Nishi. “Tear her apart, boys.”

  Lerah screeched a protest and latched onto the doorframe, splinters lodging beneath her fingernails. Silas held fast to her hair, tugging, threatening to rip her scalp right off her skull. It was too much to bear. She let go and stumbled, trying desperately to keep her footing as Silas quickened his stride.

  Nishi wailed like a trapped and wounded animal. Lerah pinched her eyes shut and cupped her hands across her ears as she shuffled along behind Silas, trying to block out the horror, but the sounds cut through like a razorblade, lodging in her brain and playing like a broken record long after the old woman had expired.

  31

  It was night. The gear Dominic was carrying was growing heavier. He’d been traveling in the direction of the gunshot—or what he thought was the direction. The way the noise had echoed, bouncing against the cliffs and turning back on itself, made it impossible to track with any real accuracy, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He’d chased plenty of phantoms during the war; he’d even caught a few.

  Ever since he’d heard the gunfire, he’d been repressing the worst case scenarios. Every time his mind started drawing a picture he quickly erased it and focused on the task at hand: one foot in front of the other, eyes up, ears open. The gunshots were brushstrokes, they weren’t the whole picture. It may have had nothing to do with Lerah. Could have been a couple of Reb slackers out doing some target shooting. Assuming was dangerous business for a soldier. He’d seen new guys on house clearing duty get too heavy on the trigger because they assumed an enemy was around every corner; they usually wound up shooting a couple of kids or an old lady in a rocker. To be effective, a soldier had to keep the needle hovering in the middle.

  The initial rattle of gunfire sounded like it’d come from the southeast. Dominic had veered off the main path in pursuit of it and was moving along a narrow, ascending passageway. He was roped in by jagged, knee-high rock. To his left, he could see down into the main valley. Diamonds appeared to be glistening beneath the surface of the black glass, being played like piano keys by the cloud-covered moonlight. If it were simply a painting on a wall in some roadside tavern, one might say it was beautiful. He stopped for a moment and took a knee, wiping his brow, and breathing a little heavier than usual. He wasn’t used to changing elevation so frequently. The Wastes were hot, but they didn’t ask much of you. The landscape was flat. Predictable. The Glass Mountains had him using muscles he didn’t know existed. Bracing. Twisting. Pulling. The backs of his legs were screaming. As he knelt, he listened. For something. Anything that would tell him he was going in the right direction. But all he got was the whistle of the wind and the sound of his own panting. Feeling exhausted and no more assured than before, Dominic rose and trudged on. As the path continued upward, he kept fighting to maintain his balance and momentum; leaning forward and locking his knees. The ground kept crumbling away beneath his feet, causing him to use his already wounded hands to keep from falling away with it.

  Then he saw it.

  A shape darker than the rest of the horizon, sitting atop an outcropping of black
rock. There was no mistaking it. A hovel. The only people he knew that took up refuge in the Glass Mountain’s were the Rebels. His first thoughts went to Lerah. It’d be a perfect place to hold her: good sightlines on the valley below, secluded, sheltered from the elements. He dropped the duffel of weapons and chose the tools for the job: a rifle, and the two pistols; one on each hip. He’d come back for the rest.

  He swept towards his target, feeling refreshed, the adrenaline rush of imminent combat washing the aching from his bones. He tried to stay as low as possible while maintaining pace; there was no real cover, so he didn’t want to linger too long in any one spot. The pathway cut out to the right before turning back in and coming to a plateau a few feet from the front door. Dominic ducked down behind a lumpy boulder and leveled his rifle across the uneven surface, surveying the domicile through the iron-sights. The front door was open. The frame around the latch was shattered.

  He took a few moments to scan the area and listen. The wind remained the only constant, whistling up from the valley below. He stood and closed in on the fractured dwelling, covering his fields-of-fire. He fell back next to the doorframe, hugging the rifle. He rattled off a rapid three-count in his head. When he reached the magic number, the training took over. He turned on his back foot and swept into the house. He kept his weight forward on the balls of his feet. He scanned from right-to-left, searching for the slightest hint of movement. His night-vision was shit and he couldn’t be sure he was alone in the room, but judging by the fact that he was still standing, he figured it was a safe bet. There was a familiar scent in the air. The cocktail of death: equal measures of blood, piss, and shit. His nose told him it was coming from the back of the room, but he wasn’t about to feel his way around in the dark and risk tripping over a corpse. Whoever had built the place was one hell of a craftsman. Dominic had grown used to the shitty construction dotting the Wastes and the moonlight that always seemed to be seeping in through cracks in the walls and ceilings. Not this place. It was air tight. The only moonlight came through the door; it was negligible, at best. He slowly dropped to one knee. He squeezed his eyes shut for three counts of ten and opened them again. Gradually, his pupils began to dilate and his surroundings came into focus.

  There were two of them on the floor, near the bed at the back of the room. A man and a woman. Old. They probably didn’t put up much of a fight. The man had been butchered. His belly was cut wide open and his innards were all splayed out. The woman looked to have been badly beaten. Judging by the way her head was cocked they’d most likely broken her neck. Dominic didn’t feel shock, or anger, or sadness. He’d seen it all before and worse. If anything, he felt relief that Lerah wasn’t among the dead.

  But why these people? Had Lerah been there?

  He’d get no answers from the dead. The only thing to do was keep moving. He turned for the door and noticed a duster hanging on the wall. He set his rifle down and took the coat from its hook. It was much like the one the Union had stolen from him. Not quite as heavy, but the material was the same and it didn’t have quite as many holes. He slipped it on. It stopped just above his ankles. It was a tad bit short in the arms, but with a few rolls of the shoulders and a bit of stretching, he managed to make it work.

  When he stepped back outside he saw the narrow path leading down towards the main valley. With a fresh trail to follow and a duster on his back, things were starting to look up.

  32

  It was morning and Hause was standing behind his desk. The sun was flowing in through the large window at his back. He was tired but relieved. The conflict was almost over. Genesis had survived another long, cold night. More importantly, he had survived. After all, where would a ship be without its captain?

  Before him stood Pinkerton, his newly appointed, and perhaps over-eager, Defense Minister. And on either side of him, there were three other members of his hand-selected inner-circle.

  “What’s the final damage? Just give me a summary.” Hause was in no mood for details.

  The wiry blonde pushed her round spectacles a little higher up her nose as she nervously shuffled through the papers in her arms. Her uniform was disheveled and her face was covered in soot. She’d brushed elbows with a major explosion. Her ears were probably still ringing.

  Hause pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. “This year, Marie.”

  “Ah, um, here we are. By my estimates, we’re running at about seventy-five percent capacity. That could go up or down, slightly, depending on how many of the wounded pull through and how much of the munitions were destroyed.” She was as fragile as glass and would be useless in a fight, but she had a mind for numbers like no one else, making her an invaluable asset.

  “Could be worse, I suppose.”

  “Oh, yes, much worse, Lord Marshal.”

  “You can go. File your final report with me tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Lord Marshal.”

  Hause looked to the head of his personal guard detail. “Are the people gathered in the Great Hall?”

  “They’re in the process of being gathered, Lord Marshal.”

  “Good. That’s very good.” Hause locked his hands behind his back and sighed. “How do I best address them? How do I set their minds at ease?” He was asking himself the question, more than anyone else.

  Pinkerton raised a hesitant hand. “If I may, sir?”

  “Go on, speak freely.”

  “Lord Marshal, I think it’s better we discuss this in private.” Pinkerton’s voice broke into an unnecessary whisper.

  Hause nodded towards the door, dismissing the other two men.

  When the room was empty, Pinkerton continued. “You’re going to have to tell them the truth. There are too many men in there that stood alongside Dan. They know what happened.”

  “That doesn’t help me, Pinkerton. I was betrayed by my own Defense Minister. Union blood was shed inside the walls of Genesis, while I stood in office. People are going to have questions. Why didn’t I arrest him right there on the stage and prevent all this? Do you understand how weak this makes me look?”

  “Arrest him for what? Having a different opinion? For making you look bad? You couldn’t have.”

  “My own men were plotting under my nose and I didn’t see it.”

  “You tell the people that he snapped. That he wasn’t thinking straight because of his daughter and that he used his delusions to cloud the judgment of some of the other men. You didn’t want to see it because of your friendship, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, and he stabbed you in the back. It makes you look compassionate. And since you were victorious, you also look strong. They will love that.”

  “I thought you said to tell them the truth.”

  Pinkerton shrugged. “There are shades of truth in there. He did snap and part of it was because of his daughter. The main thing here is getting their minds away from what Dan said about the push for peace and the missing gold. This will do that. It’ll give them something to gossip about tomorrow at work, everyone will be trying to claim they saw signs of Dan’s breakdown coming first. Nothing distracts like a scandal.”

  “You think so?”

  Pinkerton nodded. “I do, sir.”

  “Very well, write it down.”

  Hause slid a piece of paper and a pen across the desk. Pinkerton pulled up a chair and got to work. Soon it would all be over. The book would be shut for good and Genesis could get on with the next chapter. The tightness that had taken root in Hause’s chest over the past few weeks was beginning to loosen. Dan was still kicking around in the lobby—or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he’d be dead soon enough. He had nowhere to go. There were men watching the entrances and stairwells. He took Dan at his word. So long as he was allowed to expire quietly, no harm would come to Genesis. Hause leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. He folded his hands across his chest and closed his eyes. Pinkerton’s pen scratching across the face of the parchment was the only sound in the room; it was oddly peaceful in its deliber
ate rhythm.

  Soon it would be over.

  Soon.

  The window behind his head shattered. The world around him plunged into chaos. He pressed his feet against the edge of the desk and pushed backward. His chair reached its tipping point and he fell over sideways as bullets sprayed the room, obliterating the ceiling and sending a shower of debris raining down on his head.

  Pinkerton rose up out of his seat and started to say something, but the words never made it beyond his lips. The top half of his head vanished above the nose and became a sticky pink mess plastered against the wall near the doorway. His body fell and the shots kept coming.

  Hause crawled across the floor on his belly, carrying himself with his elbows and knees. The door opened and two of his men appeared. They crouched low, grabbed his arms, and pulled him the rest of the way. Hause stood and took cover on the other side of the doorframe. He inched his head out just enough to see through the shattered window at the back of his office. There was a dark cloud gathering on the horizon, growing in size with each passing moment.

  “The Rebels are attacking!” The men that had dragged him to safety were breathing heavy, clearly panicked. “They’ve got an army, Lord Marshal!”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “Not long, they’re closing fast.”

  “I want a man in every window, on every floor. I want the lobby doors barred and sealed.”

  “Already being done, Lord Marshal.”

  Hause was striding towards the stairwell, pistol out of its holster. “I want every man, woman, and child armed. If they can walk and talk, they can hold a gun.”

  “Yes, Lord Marshal.”

  “Genesis will not fall! It must not fall! Do you understand me?”

  “What else would you have us do?”

  Hause froze mid-stride. His lips slowly parted, his eyes went wide.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  “Dan! I’ve got to stop Dan!” Hause charged the stairwell door and slammed through with his shoulder.