by Lili Zander
Of course. Even at the point of death, we know how to show proper respect to our Shayde masters.
“Shh,” he soothes. “Rest.” He layers his voice with compulsion. “Drink the rest of this.”
She seems quite intimidated by Saber, so I take the cup from him and hold it to her lips. She slowly starting to warm up, thank the Great Spirit. “I got your flag,” I tell her brightly as she drinks. “Don't worry. You haven't lost it.”
I must have said the wrong thing. Tears roll out of the corners of her eyes. “I don't want it,” she whispers. “Please, I just want this to be over. I just want to go home.”
She's trembling with cold, fear, and exhaustion. I remember that feeling too well. Poor thing. “Are you sure?” I ask her softly. “Things will seem better in the morning, you know.”
“I'm sure,” she says. “Please, Raven. Please light my flares. Please.”
I can’t ignore the plea in her voice. Saber nods to me. “Do it,” he says. “The blood is only a stop-gap. She needs care.” He gets to his feet. “I've got to get out of here. The enforcers can't see me. They can't know that I am with you.”
He turns to Bailey. “You will forget that you saw me here,” he says, and she nods docilely. The compulsion at work again. “I'll stay out of sight,” he says to me, “but if you need me, just call out. You have your gun?”
I pat the weapon, worn in a belt on my hips. “Yes,” I assure him. “What if they smell you?”
“Don't worry,” he reassures me. “I'll stay downwind of them.”
He melts out of sight, and I slide out of the sleeping bag and don my outer layer once again. I duck out of the tent for an instant to light Bailey’s flare, then seek shelter again. She’s fallen asleep, her breathing labored, her cheeks too bright. Saber’s right. He’s bought her some time, but she needs medical attention.
Thirty long minutes later, a chopper appears in the sky and lands fifty paces from us. A human enforcer gets out and runs our way. I unzip the tent flap for him and wave him in.
He appears somewhat surprised to see me there, and then he looks at Bailey, and his lips tighten. “This is the third one,” he says grimly. “The Overlord’s not popular right now. There are a lot of angry people in the inner sectors. One of the guys almost got mauled by s’kal cats.
My heart leaps in my throat. “Is he okay?”
He seems to properly notice me for the first time. “You're the girl from the mines,” he says. “Raven Unnuk. Yeah, the guy got out in time. He’ll make it.” He pats my back. “He said that you told him to light the flares. If you hadn’t warned him, he would have died out there.”
Bailey stirs. “Please,” she begs, half-awake, half-unconscious. “Please take me away from here.”
“Don’t worry,” he says gently. “You’re going to be okay.” He lifts her over his shoulder and gets to his feet. “We’ll get her to safety.”
“Thank you,” I mutter.
He pauses in the doorway of the tent. “I got lucky,” he says quietly. “A vampyr bit me. But before that, I grew up in Sector 24, and my parents worked in the mines all their lives.” He shakes my hand. “You win, you understand that? You win for all of us.”
Saber rejoins me when the chopper is out of sight. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, unchecked. “He's risking all our lives,” I sob. “And for what? For entertainment? Bailey would have died if we hadn't come along.”
“I know.” Saber puts his arm around me. “I promise you, Raven, Zimmer will pay for this.”
I lean against him, taking comfort in his strength and conviction. “Let's go home.”
22
Zeke
We shouldn’t have lingered in the tent, but I couldn't tear myself away from Raven. It was hard to leave, and the only reason I made myself go was because we have to do this to save her life.
So now we hurry, hoping that we will find the facility before daylight hits and we fall into slumber.
The landscape is bleak and uninviting. The wind blows incessantly, and the visibility is terrible. This is a harsh and miserable place to live. When I think of Raven arriving at the re-education camps as a child, so much anger fills me that I want to smash something and scream at the top of my voice.
Either that or kill Overlord Zimmer. That'll do as well.
I want to surround Raven with luxury and comfort, and I never want her to know another moment of unhappiness.
We travel west for an hour, Nero and I lost in our own thoughts. “What do you think of Jarl Ragnar?” he asks abruptly, after a long period of silence.
His words startle me out of a half-doze. “I don't know what to make of him,” I reply honestly. “Sometimes, he seems as ruthless and cunning as Levitan, but at other times he seems different. More real, more authentic somehow.”
“Yeah, that's my take as well. Only less poetic than you.” Nero rolls his eyes. “More authentic.” He seems lost in thought. “I met Empress Astrid once,” he says. “She was the same way.”
My friend’s in a talkative mood. “Do you blame them? The Council didn't want her to rule. She had to grow up quickly when her mother died.” I give him a sidelong glance. “You know Ragnar isn't going to let us escape when he discovers that Raven's the carrier of a fatal blood disease.”
“Oh, I know that,” he replies. “I'm under no illusions about the Jarl.”
Thinking of Ragnar, I realize something else. “Saber’s going to have to go back soon to the inner sectors. Ragnar will be wondering where he's gone.”
Nero’s lips tug up in a smile. “Knowing the captain, he's already thought of an excuse.”
“He's going to have to tell Levitan something too.” So many enemies. So many complications.
Another long silence falls between us, one that's broken once again by Nero. “I've been thinking,” he says. “We can't get on a commercial shuttle. It's too dangerous.”
I happen to agree with him. “Do you have a plan?”
“I do. Lula Kenner is planning a coup. While everyone is distracted by it, I intend to steal Zimmer's own ship.”
I start to laugh. That plan is pure Nero. Bold and audacious. “Most of the time,” I tell my friend, “I think you're crazy, reckless, and impulsive.”
Nero shrugs. “I am all those things,” he agrees easily.
“Indeed, you are, my friend. But I have to say, I like the way you think.”
We continue west, heading to the area that Raven had marked on the map. Every ten minutes, we stop, and I place my sensors on the ice. Finally, an hour before dawn, I get a reading. “Here,” I shout to Nero.
He gets out as the skimmer. Shayde tolerate cold better than humans, but even for us, this place is bitter and uninviting. By skimmer, where we are right now is an eight-hour journey from the colony. On foot, it's at least a ten-day walk. Nobody in their right mind would attempt it. You could not find a more remote location.
Nero whistles. “This place is pretty well concealed, isn’t it? Without your sensors, we would have never found it.”
He’s right. This section of the ice desert looks like every other section we've encountered so far.
“Can you find the entrance?” he continues.
I nod confidently. My instruments are already showing me an anomaly due north of us. “This way,” I say, heading in that direction. “It should be right here. Ah. Clever. Look.”
The trapdoor is covered by snow and painted white. You wouldn't be able to spot it unless you're right on top of it. You've got to give these guys credit. They’ve created a dangerous weapon, one that could kill millions of innocent people, and they’re almost certainly plotting treason against the Empire, but they know how to run a secure operation.
“Remember what Saber said,” Nero warns me as I open the door. “We don't know if Ottar Thistle managed to destroy everything. There might still be people inside. People with guns.”
There is a metal ladder underneath the trapdoor. We place our hands on our guns and start de
scending.
The lower we get, the more the stink grows. By the time we reach the bottom, it's so awful that I can't stop myself from retching.
“This place smells like death,” Nero mutters. He pushes open the door in front of us and recoils instinctively. “I don't think we need to be concerned about an active facility,” he says grimly.
That's an understatement. There are about thirty bodies strewn around in various stages of decomposition. Some are human, but most are Shayde. A few people have been shot, but the vast majority of the vampyrs look like Olaf after he drank Raven's blood. “They were testing the weapon on these people,” I say, my voice vibrating with anger, my hands clenching into fists. Nobody, no matter what their crimes, deserves this fate.
Nero steps through the bodies, an expression of distaste on his face. “Look at the people that have been shot,” he says. “They're all wearing lab coats. Scientists.”
You think Thistle killed them?”
“Sure looks like it.”
Zimmer might be prejudiced, but Levitan isn't. There are human scientists here, along with their Shayde counterparts, all dead. I feel sick once again. “Let's take our vids and get the hell out of here,” I say.
Nero shakes his head. “We’re were looking for a ship, remember?” Nero holds his hand over his mouth and moves toward the door at the far end of the room. “Let's do this quickly. The last thing I want to do is slumber here.”
I shudder in horror.
We walk down a long hallway with about a dozen doors on either side. We open each one as we pass it, but they're all empty. “These look like quarters,” I remark. “The scientists must have lived here. This is quite the operation.”
The door at the far end of the corridor leads to the spaceport. There's a spaceship there, a small one, just big enough for three people. A wide grin grows on Nero's face. “Don't worry,” he says, sounding cheerful for the first time since we stepped into the facility. “We'll make it work. Raven can sit on my lap.”
Rolling my eyes at him yet again, I hit the switch to lower the ramp and climb up. The moment I enter the cockpit, I come to a dead halt. “I don't think we’re going anywhere.”
The control panel is smashed to pieces.
“Ottar Thistle again?”
Nero takes in the sight with a sigh. “He had the right idea,” he says. “I can't fault him for what he did. I would have destroyed it all as well.”
Except now, we need to find another way to get off Boarus 4.
23
Raven
By the time we get back to the tent, my tears have crystallized into cold anger, and I burn to do something. Some act of defiance to tell the Overlord that what he’s doing isn’t okay. That I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I’m done thinking defiant thoughts and attending illegal history lessons. I want to act. To rage and rampage and kill.
Only I can’t do any of those things. What I can do, however, is tell Michal that Joanna’s coming for him.
“You’re planning something.”
It’s three hours until dawn. I could lie to Saber and tell him that seeing Bailey in trouble has made me even more determined to win the tournament.
But I don’t want to. I want to trust him.
“My friend Joanna has a brother in the re-education camps,” I tell the vampyr. My vampyr. “He didn’t bow to Olaf once, and he was sentenced to five years for not showing proper respect to a Shayde.”
He looks pained. “I’m sorry.”
I cut him off. “You didn’t do it. Olaf did, and now he’s dead. Joanna’s friends with Lula Kenner. I think she’s part of Lula’s plan to break into the camps and free the residents.”
Saber’s expression is wary. I rush on before he can protest. “Joanna asked me to give Michal a message. To tell him that they were going to break him out. I want to do that tomorrow during the day.”
Predictably, he starts to protest. “Raven, that isn’t safe. Besides, Lula’s going to move any day now. Your friend’s brother won’t have long to wait for freedom.”
I take a deep breath. “Please, Saber.” I look at him levelly. “For ten years, I thought the way to survive Glacis was to give up on hope, but I was wrong. I would have given anything to know that there was someone who cared about me, someone who wanted me back home. Joanna thinks Michal’s losing the will to live. He needs this message. If I can give him just a little bit of hope, it’ll be worth it.”
“I don’t like it,” he says. “Most of the enforcers aren’t bad people, but there are a few that will obey Zimmer unquestioningly. You already know that. Five of them came for you.”
“And you saved me. I know, and I’m grateful. You know I am.” I don’t know how to make him understand. “I’ve been surviving for a long time. I can take care of myself. If you value me, please don’t smother me or control me. I’m not stupid. I promise that I’ll be careful.”
It would be so easy to say no. To use the compulsion to order me to stay exactly where I am.
But Saber does none of these things. “Take the gun.”
A smile breaks out on my face. “You’re okay with this?”
“No,” he says. “I’m not. But you’re right. I value your strength and your courage. I don’t want to be with a puppet, a thrall who agrees with me all the time.” He gives me a stern look. “Tell me you’ll take the gun and use it if you’re in trouble.”
“I will.”
“And the far-glass,” he says. “Sweep the landscape with it every few minutes. If you see trouble approaching, hide.”
That’s a good idea. I was always better at avoiding trouble than confronting it head-on. “I will, I promise.”
He puts his arms around my waist and tugs me near. “When do you want to leave?”
I stand on tip-toe and kiss his lips. “Not till the sun is well into the sky.”
“I’m going to be trapped in a nightmare until you return,” he says with a sigh.
I giggle and kiss him again. “I thought Shayde don’t dream.”
His lips twitch. “They don’t.” His eyes fill with heat. “We have a couple of hours before slumber claims me,” he says, his fingers stroking my arms.
My smile broadens in approval. “I know exactly how we can pass the time.”
Between the first flag and the second, about a half-day walk to the north, there’s a hot spring. The only one in Glacis, as far as I know. It used to be very popular with the residents.
I make my way to it as soon as I wake up again.
Saber’s in deep slumber. He doesn’t move as I brush my lips across his, my heart filling with warmth. He could have forbidden me from doing this, but he understands how important it is for me. I can’t believe that three days ago, I didn’t trust a word out of his mouth.
Today’s EightDay. The other contestants, the seven left in the field, are either going to be continuing their trek to the first flag or making their way to the second. I don’t think I’ll run into them, but still, the path I set across the ice is designed to avoid them.
There’s nobody at the hot spring when I get there. As tempting as it is take off my clothes and get into the water, I remember my promise to Saber to keep the gun on me at all times and sit by the bank.
An hour later, a lone figure makes his way to the springs, his head bent, lost in thought. A boy. He can’t be older than fifteen or sixteen. When he nears, I raise my voice in greeting. “Hello, friend.”
He jumps, startled, and then his eyes narrow. “Where did you get that jumpsuit from? It looks warm.”
Ah. How well I remember this. Being cold and hungry all the time. “I’m not from the camps,” I reply. “I live in Sector 23.”
He comes closer, and then he inhales sharply. “You’re that girl,” he says. “The contestant, the one from the mines.”
“That’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” he demands. “The flags are south. That way,” he points helpfully. “Hurry.”
“I know wh
ere they are. I’ll get them later.” I open my pack and pull my rations of food. So far, all I’ve eaten from it are two travel bars. There’s still six bars left and four rectangular packages that, according to the labels, contain some kind of dried meat and vegetable stew.
His gaze locks onto it. “I need some help,” I say evenly. “There’s a boy in the camps called Michal Placzek.”
The boy nods, never taking his eyes off my food. “I know him,” he says. “He’s working in the greenhouses today. He’ll be done at noon.”
“I need to talk to him.” I divide the rations into two piles and push one toward him. “Half now. Half when you return with Michal.”
His mouth falls open. “For me?”
I swallow a lump in my throat. He’s thin, underfed. My small portion of food must seem like a feast to him. “Yes. For you.”
He snatches the food and stuffs it inside his coat. “Remember,” I say. “The other half when I see Michal.”
He doesn’t answer; he’s already hurrying away.
It takes three hours for the kid to return with Michal. I’m near-frozen by the time the two of them hurry up. “Here he is,” my messenger announces triumphantly. “Michal Placzek.”
I survey the blond boy. He’s fifteen too, his cheeks pinched, his eyes shadowed. Joanna was right. He is giving up.
“Thank you,” I tell the boy that brought Michal to me. “Here’s the rest of your food.”
He blushes. “That’s okay,” he mumbles. “You keep it. You’re going to need it for the tournament.”
Great Spirit, I’m going to start bawling like a baby in front of these two boys. This is the best meal they’ll see in years, and they’re passing it up because I might need it. “I know how to fish,” I tell them, blinking the tears back furiously. “And I’m not going to take another five days to find the flags. I have an ice boat. I’ll be back home tomorrow.”
