Hooded

by A A Woods

A group of younger students trained in the main square, whacking one another with sticks. Tuk chuckled, remembering his first day as a soldier. They’d put a gun in his hand, pointed him down the rifle range. He’d turned, looking for orders, and accidentally pointed the weapon at the cadet next to him.

  The slap Commander Invitas had given him left him sore for days.

  A small group of people were moving through an opening, led by a figure in a red hood. Tuk found himself wondering if that person knew Carlette. Had they shared a room or teacher?

  He smiled wryly to himself. Look how far he’d come, from an angry young recruit forced into service to wondering about the enemy. Caring for a hood.

  Falling in love with a witch.

  He shook himself. There was no point. Carlette had gone off to do her duty and, in all likelihood, he’d never see her again. The thought made his chest constrict. How foolish. But he couldn’t help picturing her white-blonde hair, her icepick eyes, the way her mouth quirked when he said something amusing. Carlette was a study of opposites. Light and dark. Beauty and danger. Control and instinct.

  Tuk watched the main gates, wondering if he should look for her. But he knew that was a pointless exercise. She’d be well-hidden. After all, this was her game.

  But something caught his eye.

  Tuk leaned out.

  There! Movement by the gate. A guard fell to his knees in front of the open doors, convulsing. The man next to him surged forward, hand stretched out. And then fell, struck down as if by magic.

  The guards above them marched on without so much as glancing down.

  Tuk squinted.

  Having felt the effect of it himself, Tuk knew what an enhabited man looked like. Stiff. Unwilling. Movements jerky and sharp.

  The fence guards were enhabited.

  And the two at the gate had just been murdered.

  Shapes emerged from beneath the bridge leading into Jemelle. Tuk bit down on his fist to stop a gasp from escaping. The small group of figures might be dressed in stolen hoods, but Tuk would recognize their leader anywhere. It was that Bloody Paw woman, the tall rebel with the sleek black braid who had pushed Carlette’s friend into the Amonoux pit.

  They were attacking.

  But no, that wasn’t right. They couldn’t have enhabited all the guards on the wall. Someone would have sounded the alarm, seen the white rings and stopped them. This was a rear-guard, coming in after something had already happened.

  Tuk remembered the red hood who had run through the main square. Too tall, too broad to be a child…

  Yokan.

  Tuk swallowed.

  Carlette was too late. Jemelle had already fallen.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Return to Jemelle

  Carlette hung under the wagon, her agonized fingers gripping the rumbling axle. The cart, mercifully, had been packed full of aurok pelts. They smelled awful but, as Carlette dangled inches over the cobblestones, she knew anything was better than sneaking in under a wagon full of captives.

  The caravan paused at the gates for the briefest of moments. Carlette heard fence guards wave the traders through, voices bored and strangely stiff. She didn’t care. So long as the caravan went deep enough into the fortress for her to roll out and find cover, she would make it to Grand Mera’s obsidian hut.

  She snorted to herself as they trundled through the main gates.

  If only Grand Mera could see me now.

  Carlette counted buildings by the shadows they threw on the cart. Her hands screamed, inflamed and throbbing against the solid wood. Leather boots stepped into puddles, splashing her face. But she held steady, waiting.

  There.

  Carlette shimmied herself to the edge of the wagon. With a flicker of thought, she enhabited the aurok pulling her. The beast tossed its massive head, reared back, making the traders shout. Voices rose. Footsteps thundered to the front of the caravan.

  And, unseen in the sudden commotion, a quick-moving figure with ice-white hair slipped out from beneath the stacks of pelts.

  Carlette dissolved into the shadows beside the one pub that Grand Mera allowed in Jemelle, called Steppingstone. She paused, taking a deep breath, but the hairs on her neck prickled without warning.

  Something was wrong.

  The tavern was quiet, the air in the streets still and heavy. Besides the shouting traders and the rumbling aurok, Jemelle was almost silent. Carlette could sense people all around her, but the flavors were different. More primal, somehow, as if caught in a storm. Was there a new visitor or officer causing this strange tension?

  She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts.

  It didn’t matter what was going on in Jemelle. All Carlette needed to think about was reaching Grand Mera without being seen. Even now, Yokan could be on her way, mobilizing an attack. If one rebel got inside, opened the gates, the Bloody Paws would flood through the school and murder every student inside.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  With the graceful practice of someone who had grown up on the streets, Carlette crept from shadow to shadow, sneaking around doors and lights as she wound her way through Jemelle’s austere buildings. Every time she saw a patrol she turned, doubled back, took another route.

  But her instincts continued to whine.

  She climbed onto the roof of a barracks, peering towards the inner wall that kept the young hoods separate from visitors. Shapes moved along the edge, more guards.

  At least some things didn’t change.

  Carlette pursed her lips, watching two hoods sprint down a narrow side-street and duck through Jemelle’s entrance. Heading to their dorms, perhaps? Or delivering a message?

  But why were they alone?

  Only one way to find out.

  Carlette crawled down the side of the barracks and crept up to the wall. It was far too dangerous to go through the front doors—who knew where more guards could be hiding—so Carlette snapped her fingers forward, made sure her remaining spines were straight.

  And began to climb.

  Even as a child, Carlette had never exactly enjoyed heights. Where Quaina would scamper along rooftops and dance around the rims of lighthouses, Carlette would edge carefully along, making some excuse to keep both feet on the ground when she could. Carlette could face dog packs or climb into aurok pens. But when it came to this kind of thing, Carlette was a reluctant pupil.

  Thinking of Aheya, of Tuk, she dug the spines of her gauntlet into the wood and began to lift herself up. Her feet scrabbled against solid wood, slipping on the snow-dampened wall. There were no holds, but the wood was thick and her spines were strong. Arm by arm, with jerking lifts, Carlette dragged herself up.

  Her breath clouded like a hood made of mist.

  Fear pounded in her belly, in her ears.

  At any moment, a guard could look over the edge and sound an alarm. Carlette was helpless, exposed. A street patrol had only to look up and see the dark shape moving to know she was there. How ironic that they might shoot her down when Yokan was about to waltz in with no more resistance than the Collectors.

  Carlette panted. Gripped the edge of the fence.

  And, straining, pulled herself over.

  This was the tricky part, getting off the ramparts without being seen. With swift, silent feet she ghosted along the wall. It took precious seconds to find a ladder and a more to scurry down it. When her boots splashed down on the school’s main street, she felt a surge of satisfaction. A heady feeling of invincibility swept through her, that pure and simple joy of breaking the rules.

  Quaina would be proud.

  Wiping her hands on her pants and wincing at the cuts and tender skin, she ducked into the stables. Looked out.

  At least Erebus’s workshop was quiet tonight, Carlette thought with a shudder. She wasn’t sure she could handle the screams, not when Tuk had come so close to being dragged inside.

  When she was sure no guards were hiding by the doors, Carlette padded her way inside. Her steps were lithe, dancing, avo
iding puddles and loose stones with cat-like leaps. In the black clothes she usually wore under her cape, she may as well have been part of the scenery, melting into the darkness as if it had claimed her.

  Maybe it had.

  Twisting through the buildings, listening to the distant whuffle of hounds, she felt a strange sense of detachment. This entire place could collapse, fall down the mountains in a rockslide, and Carlette would only mourn the lives lost in the fall.

  How strange.

  She’d reached the main square. Crouching in the shadow of a pillar, she realized that only a few days ago, Erebus had come to her here, stroking her cheek, his decaying breath too close for comfort. It seemed like a lifetime had gone by since then.

  Firelight sputtered in Grand Mera’s windows, alluring, comforting. She’d know what to do, how to deal with Yokan. She alone would understand, would hear Carlette’s full side. Without the watchful eye of the guards or the looming danger of the Magistrate finding out, Grand Mera would let Carlette speak.

  Reckless and intoxicated by the freedom of moving alone at night, Carlette ducked through the columns that surrounded the green. Snow glimmered. Candles flickered in tower windows. There was dread all around, a concentrated sense of fear. But that was normal, wasn’t it? Jemelle was a hive of frightened children, raw iron ore being beaten into swords.

  She had always felt unease in this place.

  Hadn’t she?

  Carlette reached Grand Mera’s window. She glanced inside to find her mentor, her commander at her desk, stock-still and rigid.

  Just like always.

  With the gentle fingers of a thief, Carlette slid the window open. Leapt in.

  “Grand Mera, it’s me, don’t sound the—”

  But Carlette’s voice trailed off. Her skin crawled. The old woman was staring at her, face in shadow, eerily dark.

  “Grand Mera?” Carlette whispered.

  “It’s good of you to come back,” she answered, voice raspy and strained.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you, ever since my lookouts told me you’d entered the city.”

  Carlette froze, hand still on the window-frame. She should run, right now. She might still escape.

  But loyalty to the leader of Jemelle kept her rooted.

  “I wasn’t aware anyone saw me.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t have noticed them. They’re very good at staying low.”

  It sounded like an inside joke, something she should understand. But she didn’t. Carlette faced her mentor, wishing she could see those familiar, hawk-sharp eyes.

  “Grand Mera, there’s something I need to tell you—”

  “I already know, dear.”

  Carlette frowned. Never, in all their years together, had Grand Mera called her dear.

  “Jemelle’s in danger—”

  “Jemelle has always been in danger. It is a danger, of the most disgusting kind. You must have known Hyba would claim it one day.”

  Carlette’s breathing stopped. “You’re not Grand Mera.”

  The old woman’s torso leaned forward, allowing the fire to illuminate her eyes.

  A ring of white glowed around the pupils.

  Carlette leapt on the window ledge, ready to dive back out into the night, but hands shot out of the shadows. Strong arms dragged her back. Someone was chuckling, the sound echoing from two mouths.

  And then one stopped.

  Grand Mera collapsed on the desk, face-first.

  Carlette snarled, lashed out with her magic. But they had covered her hands, bound them behind her back with rough efficiency. A blindfold yanked her head to one side, pulling out hair. She tried to scream but someone shoved a wad of fabric between her teeth, almost choking her.

  “Well done, child,” came that other voice, the voice that had been Grand Mera’s twin.

  Yokan.

  “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you again. Byrna tells me you escaped the Moians in short order, but who thought you’d actually return. What a well-trained little dog you are.”

  Anger and fear zinged through Carlette as she pieced together what had happened. They’re very good at staying low. It was Byrna. Byrna had watched her through the eyes of the insects that lived in Jemelle, eating their trash, nesting on their animals.

  Byrna had betrayed her.

  Carlette growled, tried to yank herself free, but a clawed hand grabbed her by the chin. Forced her face up.

  “You’re a conniving little whelp, I’ll give you that. Under different circumstances, you might be useful. But I’m afraid all things must end. You see, girl, I have a plan.” Yokan’s face was close, her breath putrid. “And you do seem to enjoy disrupting them.”

  Carlette tried to pull loose, spit out the gag. If she were free, she could lash out, wrap Yokan in a web of power and slowly squeeze the life out of her. A part of her wondered if she’d even enjoy it.

  But Carlette was the prisoner. She was at their mercy.

  And they were going to kill her.

  She heard the sing of a blade being drawn.

  Her heart thundered.

  Had Byrna not told them who she was? That Carlette was the very person Yokan was hunting? Perhaps the beetle-speaker had decided that a new Furix would be too much trouble. Or something else had happened. If her family had been hurt in the battle…

  A knife pressed against Carlette’s convulsing throat.

  “I wish you were more… flexible. But my experience has proven that hoods can rarely be re-trained for our purposes. May Hyba greet you with open arms and grant forgiveness for your existence.”

  Carlette tried to scream. Tried to roll her body away. It was no use. In that last moment, knowing the knife was about to bite down, she sent a wild prayer to whatever god was listening that Tuk would survive the wilderness of the Shadow Peaks.

  Crash.

  The window shattered. Summoned like a demon, Tuk’s voice shouted something from outside. The knife lifted. Carlette blinked beneath the blindfold, wondering if she was imagining things.

  And then the cabin exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Into Darkness

  Chaos bloomed. Flames licked at Carlette’s sides. She wanted to scream, but the gag filled her mouth. She’d fallen, been dropped right in the middle of the melee, and could do nothing to defend herself. There was the thud of metal against flesh and a woman cried out. Tuk grunted. Manacles clanked. Yokan’s voice rose in a scream, shrill and panicked.

  “Forget him! Don’t let her burn!”

  Strong hands gripped Carlette’s shoulders. She smelled singed hair. She struggled, threw her body against this new force.

  “Stop wiggling, aye? It’s me!”

  Someone was sawing through the ropes around her hands. They broke. Carlette yanked out the gag, pushed up the blindfold.

  And Tuk was there, holding out a hand to pull her up.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Carlette could only gape at the pandemonium growing around them. Somehow, Tuk had managed to send a wave of fire over Grand Mera’s desk. Now flames were licking up the walls, swallowing the mattress and sheets, curling the papers. Burning her hair. Yokan and her rebels were furiously swatting a crown of fire on Grand Mera’s iron-gray head. Carlette took a shaky step forward, torn between her desire to save Grand Mera and her instinct to flee.

  Yokan’s head snapped up, white-blue eyes immediately finding Carlette’s. She barked an order in Ebonal, a single word. Two Bloody Paws turned on them, weapons drawn.

  “Umm, this was the end of my plan,” Tuk said.

  “Follow me!”

  Carlette grabbed Tuk’s chain and they burst through the front door into the square. The snow was thick but Carlette’s terror drove her forward. They sprinted across the unbroken white, leaving smoking footprints in their wake. Power slammed into her mind like battering rams. Two rebels, chasing them. With a flicker of thought, she sent both to their knees, vomiting into the snow.
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  Faces appeared in the windows of the towers around them. Carlette wondered how many of the young hoods had guessed that something was wrong. But if Yokan had the guards under her thumb, if her Bloody Paws had already managed to take over…

  Something brushed her mind and Carlette thrust the worries away. Survival first. Tuk stumbled. His chain pulled free just as Carlette felt a shift in the air.

  She turned to grab him, tell him to hurry.

  But before she could speak, the young mechanic launched himself at her.

  Tuk tackled her into the snow. His fists were already swinging as she rolled away, clawing at the cobblestones beneath the powder. She could see the glow of his eyes, white rims terrifyingly stark against his normal dark brown. Carlette drew her knee in to kick him off. He hardly reacted as her foot collided with his belly, launching him. She rolled over, made to crawl away, but metal collided with the side of her head. Tuk’s manacles, whipped sideways with ruthless force. Her eyes crossed. She collapsed, blinking as the world doubled, as the towers seemed to swim in an ocean of stars.

  Tuk’s fingers curled around her throat, squeezing hard.

  Somewhere nearby, Yokan’s laugh rose over the square.

  “You thought you could escape me, little girl? I who fight in Voka’s name?”

  Let’s see about that.

  With a savage surge of power, Carlette drove into Yokan’s mind, forced her open. The woman shrieked. Even as Tuk’s fingers tightened around her windpipe, Carlette plunged into her enemy’s head, recklessly fast.

  Her eyes burned.

  Her body ached.

  It took a few precious moments to find what she was looking for. And then, with a slicing thought, she severed all of Yokan’s connections.

  Including the one to Grand Mera.

  Tuk blinked. His eyes focused and he frowned, drawing his hands away.

  “What—?”

  “Later,” Carlette wheezed, scrambling to her feet and dragging Tuk with her.

  There was no way they would make it to the fences. They needed a place to hide, now. Carlette thought briefly of Cerise tower, but that was no good, not with a Nuri in tow and bloodthirsty Ebonal warriors on their trail.