Hooded

by A A Woods

  Despite the laugh lines.

  The entrance guard had changed. Carlette waited as a new woman examined Grand Mera’s signature with squinting, suspicious eyes, her frown roving from the paper to the dark-skinned boy breathing hard beside her. Carlette could understand her hesitation, but it no longer made sense for prisoners to be transferred with a whole relief of guards. The Bloody Paws hovered on the edge of Durchemin, their birds watching, their mountain stags posed and ready to attack. If they saw a group of uniformed men dragging a prisoner through the cage, they were sure to pounce, if for no other reason than to disrupt the Magistrate’s plans. However, two travelers, alone and unguarded, were less likely to attract rebel attention. And only a near-fully-trained hood could control a man on the road to his death.

  “What’s this one doing?” called a man from the guardhouse, leering.

  Carlette’s gut twisted.

  “Sanctioned mission,” the woman answered.

  “Nothin’ sanctioned about him,” said the guard, striding up to her prisoner and getting in his face. “I lost six men to one of your airships,” he growled, grabbing hold of the leather jacket. He yanked out a slim dagger, pressing it against the boy’s dirty cheek. “I should cut you down right here.”

  “Do that, and I’ll have every reason to throw your body off the fences,” Carlette said, matter of fact.

  The guard threw her a dismissive look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “This spy has valuable information. He will reach Jemelle and he will reach it alive. Do you really think that the Magistrate would prioritize your vengeance over finding Caika?”

  The guard’s anger flickered. Carlette took the prisoner’s arm, yanking him away.

  “He is under my protection,” Carlette said, leaning forward. “I wouldn’t challenge that, if I were you.”

  The woman glanced between them, unsure. But the guard’s eyes were fireballs of hate, glowering like evil suns.

  “You’re just as bad. I’d cut down the whole lot of you and sleep well that night.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t sleep well for long,” Carlette said with a forced, sharp-toothed smile. “You’d be overrun by rebels before the sun next rose. Now, may I please be on my way?”

  The man looked like he wanted to slice his blade across her throat. But Carlette’s patience had reached its limit. She turned to the woman, lifting her eyebrows.

  “Stay the path, girl,” she ordered, thrusting Grand Mera’s letter of free passage back with an ungracious scowl, as if this trouble was Carlette’s fault.

  “I always do,” said Carlette, yanking the Nuri with her as she stepped through the massive iron gates.

  For several moments, Carlette allowed the cold wind to swirl around her. Her temper sizzled against the cold. Every single fucking time. She was so frustrated, so exasperated, that she almost didn’t notice the change in the mechanic’s posture, the slight softening of his features.

  “I didn’t think you’d stop him,” he whispered, voice almost drowned by the howling wind.

  “I’ve been assigned to protect you,” Carlette said.

  He lapsed into silence. After a moment of their boots thudding against the wooden slats, Carlette felt him pull against her, stopping. She paused and glanced back at him.

  “Caika is growing stronger, you know,” he said. “Soon we’ll have the power to destroy this city. You don’t have to die for those ungrateful bastards.”

  With a flick of thought, Carlette prodded him forward.

  He gasped but didn’t move.

  “Caika won’t last until the next full moon,” she said.

  “You think I’m going to help them find it?” he spat back, planting his feet. His voice might have been intimidating if he wasn’t so frightened. “You really think I’ll betray my people for that scum?”

  Carlette grabbed his arm and pulled, making him stumble.

  “Our Skin Smith is a talented man,” she said. “He could make a rebel sing the Delasir anthem if he wanted.”

  “I won’t break,” the young spy insisted.

  “Yes you will,” Carlette said, too tired to hold onto her anger. She hated the Nuri as much as any hood, but it was impossible not to picture him in Erebus’s hut, screaming as that awful man did whatever unspeakable things he had been trained to do behind closed doors.

  She shuddered.

  When Carlette had first arrived at Jemelle, she was shocked at how often agonized shrieks echoed out from Erebus’s obsidian shed, filling the school with the inhuman noise. The other students were used to it. The Convent of Others, of course, had its fair share of unspeakable rooms. But to Carlette, the screams were fingernails running down her spine, shredding the curtain of comfort that had swathed her childhood.

  Quaina used to insist that orphans were the bottom of the social ladder. But Quaina had been wrong. There were several rungs below them, and, as Carlette learned how much worse life could be, she was grateful she had taken only one step down. This mechanic, born a Nuri, captured a spy… he was truly mud. Condemnable and condemned.

  They continued in silence, minutes stretching into hours. Carlette could feel his mind searching, scanning the cage, desperately looking for holes in the iron bars. But the road fulfilled its purpose—keeping danger out, keeping prisoners in.

  After several hours of walking, the Nuri couldn’t take it anymore. He gasped, manacles clanking as he gripped his knees and bent double. Carlette paused, letting him catch his breath.

  “The mountains take their toll.”

  “I fly an airship,” he spat. “I’m used to altitude.”

  Carlette shrugged, but she’d heard of this problem before. In the cabins that hung below the camouflaged balloons, the Nuri men and women grew accustomed to the sun-warmed air of Nurkaij, or at least the humid ocean breeze. Up in the crisp chill of the Shadow Peaks, the air was different. Cold and raw and painful.

  In Jemelle, it was all they knew.

  “We will stop to rest soon,” Carlette said. “The halfway point is coming.”

  She didn’t plan to enter Howl—that had been enough of a fiasco the day before. But Carlette had thought ahead enough to grab a few biscuits and a packet of dried meat from the barracks. They would drink snowmelt from Howl’s spring, sit on the benches outside and take in the view of the Giant’s Wood spread out below them. At least Carlette would. She didn’t much care what the Nuri did, so long as he didn’t go near the hole reserved for messenger birds.

  “Come on,” Carlette said, grabbing his manacles and pulling. “We need to make it back before sunset.”

  “Or what? You turn into smoke?”

  Carlette leveled him with a glare.

  “Or we are attacked by rebels and we both die.”

  The boy spat on the ground, his saliva freezing instantly on the metal.

  “At least that’s something.”

  · · ─────── ·❅· ─────── · ·

  As Howl came into view, Carlette marveled that the grimy tavern never seemed to change. The men and women filtering through the doors were almost identical to yesterday’s—Collectors, scouts, bounty hunters. It’s rancid, body-odor stink still wafted towards her like an unwelcoming fog, familiar and disgusting.

  And, just like yesterday, Carlette felt the same distinct sense of unease, her instincts prickling like goosebumps.

  “Sit,” Carlette ordered, shoving her prisoner towards a roughly hewn bench.

  Glaring at her, he sat, manacles jangling. Carlette scanned the mountain above them as she unhooked a canteen from her belt. Yanking off a glove with her teeth, she made to fill it at one of the twin troughs lined with braying donkeys and pack mules.

  Her mind hummed as water trickled into the canteen.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting the water at the Nuri spy.

  He took it, eyes bleak.

  “What a miserable life,” he said, shaking his head as he raised the canteen. “To walk over the mountains when you co
uld fly.”

  Carlette wasn’t listening. Something was wrong. She felt it buzzing in her nerves, vibrating up her bare fingers. The mental tang that filled the air was different, tainted with something wild. It was more than just the brutal men and women in the tavern.

  Something was out there.

  “I can’t imagine you’ve ever been to Nurkaij,” the boy said as he wiped his mouth, gazing out at the snow-tipped trees. “Anyone who’s seen Vaijan would never tolerate living in a place like this.”

  Carlette flexed her fingers, feeling the leather thongs pull tight, hidden spines rippling.

  “Really, it’s amazing humanity ever settled here. Our scientists think the first Ferrenese people came over on a southern land bridge, which would make your ancestors the same as mine. But that’s just a theory—”

  “We need to keep moving,” Carlette cut in, her voice sharp, echoing against the mountain. “Quickly, get—”

  But her order was broken by a keening howl, the throaty human imitation of a wolf. Carlette’s gaze snapped up, squinting against the sun. She heard the mechanic’s sharp inhale.

  Cascading down the steep mountain face like a rockslide, a herd of stags tumbled towards them, swarmed by birds, their roaring riders brandishing stolen riffles. Carlette lunged aside as a bullet pinged near her, close enough to sting.

  “Attack! We’re under attack!” Carlette shouted.

  Her hands snapped forward. Spines sprung up just as Howl’s doors slammed open. Bloody Paws careened towards the hanging cage.

  And, unseen by Carlette, a tall, wiry, dark-skinned young airman made his break for the small gap in the iron bars, eyes frantic with hope.

  Chapter Ten: Trust Fall

  The Bloody Paws crashed against the grated celling of Durchemin in a tidal wave of noise. Bullets rained down on Carlette as she threw her arms over her head. Hunters fired. Masked rebels crawled over them like swarming cockroaches. A dirty scout crashed into the ice, blood spurting from her shoulder. A Bloody Paw jerked and toppled over the side, sliding along the scraggly cliffside, leaving a crimson trail in her wake.

  Carlette’s eyes glowed as she slipped into one of the stags. She could taste old blood on the beast’s fangs, feel the weight of its enormous antlers. As her real body lunged for cover beneath one of the benches, Carlette launched the stag off the mountain face, head down.

  Antlers snagged on clothing.

  Two figures fell with the flailing beast, shrieking as they scrambled for a hold.

  Carlette cut her tie with the stag’s mind, entering one of the Bloody Paws like a monkey jumping to the next tree. She cringed as the oil of the rebel’s mind coated her thoughts. It was a young woman, sharp with vitriolic hatred. This was a powerful mind, kinked with energy, teeming with feather-light connections to the world around her. For the first time in her life, Carlette struggled to hold this girl, felt her gaze go blurry as she saw through other eyes.

  At the edge of the rebel’s vision, Carlette caught a movement.

  A contrast.

  Brown skin in sharp relief against blue sky, the Nuri rebel glancing backwards as he ran toward the opening in the grated Durchemin bars.

  Carlette tossed the rebel’s mind aside as violently as possible. If she was lucky, the girl’s attention would be thrown. But she couldn’t think about that now. Scrambling upright, she sprinted after the mechanic. Saw his brown jacket flutter. Watched his manacled hands pick up something gray and shining. He was only twenty feet ahead of her, but he’d gathered a desperate kind of speed. His toes were digging in, his body hunched against the hail of gunfire, the stray bullets from both sides. Carlette’s senses zeroed in, blocking out the shouting settlers, the ululating howls of the Bloody Paws.

  She reached out, stretching her power toward the prisoner.

  The rock next to her exploded and her attention split like a lightning-struck tree.

  The world swirled for a moment. Her ears rang. She blinked, desperately trying to clear her vision.

  She was too late.

  Launching himself off the wooden slats of the path, the Nuri tucked in his arms, ducked his head, and leaped through the opening.

  Carlette lunged.

  Her body slammed against the cage, fingertips grasping. Her hand brushed the edge of his jacket as he twisted, his body sinuous as water. He grabbed at the lower bars of the Cage in a practiced, acrobatic movement, something only a man used to open air would learn.

  Carlette’s breathing was sharp, panicked as she felt the cage shudder with the boy’s sudden weight. She tried to reach out, her mind brushing his. But it was lost in the melee, in her own horror, in the swirl of consciousness pounding around her. It was like trying to catch a butterfly in a rainstorm. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t reach him.

  And then he was gone.

  She glimpsed his dark shape below her feet, sliding down the mountain face, feet scrabbling against the steep rock. He would be in the Giant’s Wood in moments, send some signal to his comrades soon after. Maybe the Moian tribe would pick him up, execute him for the crimes of his people. Maybe he would be saved.

  Either way, Carlette had failed.

  She would never go to Delasir, would never fight alongside the Woodsman. She would be assigned to guard Tuleaux, or worse, the merchant ships. Carlette could picture Grand Mera’s shame. Mya’s worry. They would never be free of her secret, crushed forever by the burden of what Carlette was.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  Carlette put one foot on the opening. The words of her training echoed in her mind. Stay the path. It went against every instinct, every rule of Jemelle. For a hood to leave Durchemin, to enter wild territory on their own, was tantamount to treason. She could be labeled a deserter, executed for nothing more than considering what she was about to do. Her chances of being accepted into the King’s Axe after leaving the assigned road were laughably low.

  But if she didn’t finish this job, she had no chance at all.

  Taking a deep breath and feeling like a wingless bird about to leave its nest, Carlette leapt.

  The ground came up fast. Carlette threw her arms out, spines facing the rock. She braced for impact.

  It was still enough to make her bones shudder.

  Her forearms scraped against the stone with a raw, grating squeal. Carlette’s boots slipped against sleek ice. Her body began to pick up speed, the sounds of attack fading beneath the thud of her own heartbeat.

  She needed to slow down.

  Glancing beneath her, she saw the mountain’s ribs approaching, layers of obsidian eroded by time and the elements, sharp as daggers. The teeth of the Shadow Peaks.

  Carlette dug her toes in, pushing with her forearms. Black rock rose suddenly beneath one thigh, slicing open her trousers. She rolled to the side, one arm parting with the mountain. She slid faster. Her back slammed against a boulder and she gasped, swallowing snow and ice dust. Frozen air clouded around her.

  Gritting her teeth, Carlette spun her body back, slapping against the mountain. Her fingers dug into a crevice. Ripped free. She felt the pads of her hand tear open, but she tried again. With one arm slowing her descent, snow snake spines snapping and breaking under her weight, Carlette’s other hand scrabbled at the rocks.

  She slowed.

  Skidded.

  Finally, her foot found a hold. With a bone-jarring halt, she came to an abrupt stop. Carlette glanced below her.

  The base of the mountain was a maze of thin obsidian walls and snow-filled valleys, peppered with abandoned mining tunnels, leveling out to where the Giant’s Wood shadowed all. Carlette breathed, her exhale fogging the view. She could hear the fight above her still echoing off the peaks. A body tumbled past. But she was far away from it now, as distant from the world she’d always known as she was from the clouds themselves.

  Something moved below her.

  Carlette leaned out, keen eyes scanning the snow.

  There!

  A dark shape was sprintin
g between two black plates, leaping through knee-deep powder. His elbows jabbed out, wrists bound by black metal.

  Carlette shoved off from the mountain, her feet moving as if by magic as she sprinted down the incline. Where before speed had been her enemy, she now embraced it with a recklessness Grand Mera would have slapped her for. Rock layers as lethal as blades flew past her, but she couldn’t stop. She pumped her arms, threw herself forwards.

  The airman glanced back just as she entered his crevice. His eyes widened as he saw her barreling towards him. He made to leap aside, but the snow was too deep.

  His foot caught.

  Carlette hit him like an avalanche, knocking them both down in a puff of white.

  For a moment, nothingness filled Carlette’s vision. Her lungs screamed as she inhaled snow crystals. Her joints protested the abuse.

  And then she felt the mechanic scramble beneath her, clawing around for something.

  Carlette grabbed his knees. He twisted like a fish. She reached out with her mind, but something hard slammed against one cheek. Stars burst in her vision. Her grip loosened. Instinctually, she rolled to one side. A gunshot echoed, bouncing between the two black slabs of stone like a rubber ball.

  She glanced up.

  He stood above her, a stolen pistol gripped in both hands. His face was twisted, determined.

  But his arms were shaking.

  Carlette barely had time to register the panicked look in the boy’s eyes before he fired again. She dove to the side, hood rippling like blood. The boy fired again and Carlette felt a bullet sing her shoulder, whistling in the cold.

  Enough!

  Gritting her teeth with concentration, Carlette snapped her gaze to the mechanic. Her mind sprung around him, caging him, holing him still. His limbs locked halfway through their arc of turning to face her.

  Finally, everything fell still and silent.

  Carlette took a deep breath. Her body felt like one big bruise, every inch of her pounding. Her leg was bleeding where the rock had sliced it open and she knew that an impressive bruise was forming on her cheekbone. Worse, her hands were shredded, her remaining glove tattered and bloody, her other hand dripping red in the snow.