It remained surreal, even today, but he had his blue skin as an indelible mark of his passage in the labs.
“Andeal?”
Treysh held a warmed platter of curry. The spicy scent tickled his nose and made him salivate. He grabbed it and stuffed the first bite right in. His throat burned, and his eyes watered but a meal had never tasted so good. Gone were the minuscule meals of beef jerky, raisins and instant noodles. This was fresh, fiery, flavorful. He devoured his plate in minutes. At his side Henry was already chugging a whole bottle of water to help the food down. Once their plates were clean, Treysh sat back in front of them.
“Put that on the floor, I’ll clean later.” She brought her legs up and crossed them. “So what really happened?”
“They came in the middle of the night with a bomber blimp. Vermen—”
“Vermen?” She repeated the name with the inflection of someone who’d heard it before.
“Yes. That Vermen. We’ll have time for that story later. He heard the blimp and warned everyone. Henry and I took off in the hot air balloon. The others must’ve followed the original plan and gone underground. If they weren’t crushed under tons of rock.”
“Oh.” The news smothered her good mood. “I’m sorry, Andeal.”
“They’re fine,” Henry said forcefully.
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Strong claws squeezed his heart whenever he thought of it. He didn’t want to imagine living on without Maniel. Not while there was hope. Andeal’s shoulders sagged and he leaned back into the sofa. “We have to carry on. If only for them.”
* * *
By the time Treysh showed them their rooms, pink light climbed into the sky. Henry had spent half the night sleeping on the couch while Andeal relived old tales from university with the weird girl. At first he’d listened, fascinated to discover their mischievous streak and propensity to get into trouble. As one night-time expedition followed the other, however, all the stories melded into one in Henry’s brain. For a time he stared at Treysh, watched her laugh or cringe, studied the crazy green hair. But even that lost interest. The long hours of walking caught up to him, his eyelids shut by themselves and he woke with the dawn, when Andeal decided to catch some sleep.
His friend shone brighter than the rising sun. Treysh had breathed a new life into him—his old one. Henry wondered if one day he’d be allowed his back, too. As he climbed the steps to his room, he missed Kinsi more than ever. Andeal had promised to return to his parents once “all this” was over. Henry had no idea what “all this” would turn out to be, but one thing was sure: once it was done, he’d seek the grocer and enjoy another tranquil beer with him.
And then, maybe, they could find a way to bring back the Races to Ferrea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cards castle quickly grew boring and were abandoned after a high tower crashed at their feet. Joshua wasted no time finding a new source of entertainment and had begun teaching magic tricks and other sleight-of-hand techniques to Jan. Vermen watched at first. The Burgian’s skill impressed him and brought its share of questions. Was Joshua skilled at card games or did he cheat his way to victory? How often had he slipped an extra ace from his sleeve as they played, early in their confinement? No, not possible. Not unless he had another deck hidden. Although watching him make cards and coins vanish with ridiculous ease, Vermen didn’t put it past the sly man. The dim light—toned down to save its remaining power—amplified the routine into true magic.
An act, of course, and one that soon did little to amuse the captain. He slid away from the group, turning the L-shaped cave’s corner and striding over the budding stream. The stone walls formed a comfortable alcove next to the source. Since Seraphin had left again, he’d taken to sitting there, in the dark, eyes closed or set on the entrance. Sometimes he slept, although he had a hard time telling dreams from memories. Whenever he settled in this spot—his spot—his mind wandered to a past long gone, in which he still had a brother.
It always started with the same souvenir. He played outside with Klaus’ new toy, a radio-controlled model of a copter. The sun shone bright and hot, wind danced with the summer leaves. A perfect day to climb the hill and fly the machine above its steep side. He’d promised to be careful with it. Even as a boy, Klaus’ anger had terrified him. Later it’d strike fear in soldiers, allies and enemies both.
When the copter clipped a tree and plummeted down the cliff, Hans had sprinted down with it. How enormous it’d seemed, at eight, to break his brother’s toy. He’d stumbled, of course, and tumbled down the cliff, tucked in a tight ball for most of the ride. Not a wise thing to do. Years later he remembered the pain as he’d lain at the bottom, every bit of his body throbbing. When he’d arrived, bloodied by numerous cuts and scratches, covered in dirt and half his clothes torn, the broken copter had mattered little to anyone. Although Klaus wouldn’t lend him another toy. Out of fear he’d go and kill himself, he said.
His back to the cool cavern walls, Vermen relived the memory every time, along with other important milestones in his life. Always, his brother was there, looking over his shoulder, teaching him, praising him. Teasing and pushing, sometimes. Hans Vermen basked in the remembered fraternity and solid companionship between them, but the path of his youth had only one deadly end. It was another perfect morning, without a cloud in the sky, and his commanding officer had asked to speak with him. The man had his formal uniform, with every medal and honor pinned on. When he had offered Vermen a seat with a grave tone, Hans—still a young soldier—had understood. He’d refused.
Before he heard the fateful announcement again, Vermen plunged his naked feet in the bursting stream. Icy water stung at his still-raw ankles and anchored him to the present. Once, these scenes fueled his anger and drove him after Holt. Today they brought another kind of sorrow: the quiet, grieving one that leeched life away. He didn’t want to slide into depressed inaction.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Seraphin’s voice startled Vermen and he scrambled to his feet. How had he not heard him splash up the stream to their hideout? The Regarian stood right beside him, his hair cut to shoulder length. Vermen glared at him with a sudden urge to wipe away his amused smile.
“He wouldn’t be a ghost if you hadn’t shot him.”
The mirth vanished from Seraphin’s expression and he climbed out of the water. Vermen stiffened and prepared for some sort of mockery. Instead Seraphin put his hand on Hans’ shoulder and squeezed it briefly. It didn’t feel like an apology. More like a silent acknowledgement that Vermen hurt, and he understood that. The captain’s anger at Seraphin vanished, replaced by newfound respect.
The other rebels had stopped their magic games and gathered around. Instead Seraphin addressed the group:
“We’re ready to move out. Stern’s group already joined up with mine. You’re the last.”
Maniel turned to the others with a smile. “Pack up. It’s time to surface at last.”
She didn’t need to say it twice. Joshua set to work with a gleeful exclamation, shoving everything he could into their packs without regards for order. Vermen scowled at his random packing. He was about to head over and teach him how to split rations and survival equipment between everyone even in a rush when Seraphin’s hand landed on his shoulder and held him back.
“Not you,” Seraphin said. “We need to have a word.”
Vermen very much disagreed. He did not want a private talk with Seraphin. Whenever the rebel leader was around, Vermen could not help but watch him. He’d grown nervous about what he would say or do, as though Holt’s opinion mattered. It shouldn’t. Yet after saving this rag-tag band of criminals, he found himself yearning for some respect. Or maybe gratitude. Either of them would be a nice change of pace from his usual snark. Vermen would rather cling to the tiny shoulder squeeze than ruin the moment with a talk that’d inevitably remind him of why he couldn’t get along with the Renegade.
“Now?” Vermen asked.
&nbs
p; “Yeah. We can always catch up to them after.”
Seraphin could. If he ditched Vermen in the network of caves, however, the captain would never find his way. He studied the Regarian for a long moment, unable to contain his suspicions, but if Seraphin wanted him dead he would’ve let his men shoot him at the top of Mount Kairn.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Vermen jumped down the stream and followed the rebel leader into the tunnel. They followed it until they reached the river, then Seraphin lead him some distance away, perhaps to make sure Maniel and the others wouldn’t show up in the middle of their discussion. Vermen wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Part of him wished the long, awkward silence would go away. The other preferred not to know what the following conversation would contain.
Seraphin stopped and turned around. Their dim flickering light emphasized the thinness of his traits, making his hollowed cheeks even more angular. His white hair and eyelashes seemed to absorb the light and have a glow of their own. Vermen stared, entranced by the strange effect, until Seraphin cleared his throat.
“Is there a problem?”
A deep flush rose to Vermen’s cheeks. He stammered, ashamed, and struggled for a plausible justification.
“No—no. I just…you cut your hair.”
“Congratulations, Captain. You have reached a new level of perceptiveness.” Seraphin ran a hand through it with an amused smile. Before Vermen could form a proper retort, he explained. “It’ll be easier to hide.”
“Glad you didn’t do that while I was tracking you. You wouldn’t believe the number of witnesses that reported ‘flowing white hair’. I guess you reached a new level of intelligence.”
This drew a laugh from Seraphin. The rebel leader did not seem insulted in the slightest. “Did it never occur to you that while I trekked across the country, easy to track but always a step ahead, other rebels operated in the field, unseen? Long white hair makes a fantastic lure when your enemy is obsessed.”
Shame formed a lump in Vermen’s throat. He recalled sitting in his office one evening, flipping through several witness accounts, his boots on the desk. He read the important parts to Lungvist, his most trusted lieutenant and the best brains the army had to offer. After a while Lungvist had suggested exactly that. He’d leaned on the wall and voiced it as a supposition, asking Vermen to consider the White Renegade’s sightings might be a distraction. Vermen wouldn’t listen. Distraction or not, he wanted to catch Seraphin and would not be diverted from his path.
“My lieutenant knew. I didn’t care. I wanted you, Seraphin. Anything else was extra.”
Their gazes locked for a long time. A lot had changed since he had held his gun to Seraphin’s forehead, unable to pull the trigger. The power balance shifted and, worse of all, Vermen had no idea how to qualify the new dynamic. The part wanting to know Seraphin battled with the part that had spent so long loathing him. He hated this uncertainty.
“What about now?” Seraphin asked, echoing Vermen’s thoughts.
The captain lowered his gaze. He’d done his best not to think about the rebels and his role in their survival. Joshua’s antics had distracted him for a while, but his mind soon drifted back to his confused future. He turned Schmitt’s declaration in his head, over and over. The other rebels had reasons to lie about the Threstle Plague. It gave them an excuse for their criminal actions, a well-intentioned pretext to sow chaos. But Schmitt? One glance at him was enough to tell he was a coward who’d rather plump his ass in a sofa with a bowl of noodles and listen to the National Radio, safe and peaceful, than to live like a rat in a hole, putting his life on the line for a fabricated conspiracy. Something had convinced him to abandon his security and join the fray—and that, more than anything Andeal could say, bothered him. Noodle Man’s participation in this mess gave disturbing weight to the rebels’ story.
“I can’t go back.” He raised his head again, with a slight frown. “Stern told me what happened to the rebels I sent to prison. I might be next.”
“Then you can either hide on your own or continue helping us.”
Continue. Vermen closed his eyes as he considered the choice of word. Was Seraphin trying to tell him something? What did he want? Hans studied him, worried there was a trap here, a subtext he was missing. The rebel leader seemed…hopeful?
Before he could answer—before he even parted his lips—a powerful explosion rocked the cavern. Vermen stumbled backward and put his hands against the wall as dust fell from the ceiling. Bombs again, deeper in the mountain. Seraphin swore and covered his head, taking a step toward him.
“They’re close,” he said. “In our hideout.”
The army didn’t want to take the chance of rebels returning to their headquarters, it seemed. Vermen wondered how much dynamite they’d used. ‘A lot’ would be his guess. The confirmation came with two quick-paced explosions, forcing them into a crouch. The captain straightened back as soon as he could, his heart hammering against his chest. Blood pulsed against his temples, almost loud enough to cover the rumble of a collapse. It wasn’t just the hideout that was collapsing. They were destroying the entire mountain.
“We can’t stay—”
The fourth bomb exploded, stronger and closer than any of the others. He heard a loud ripping sound overhead and looked up to find a large crack in the ceiling. Vermen’s breath caught in his throat, his feet remained cemented to the ground. Time seemed to slow as he watched a heavy boulder detach itself above him.
Another weight smashed into him before the boulder could crush his head—a lithe pale form, pushing him to the ground. Dust swirled as part of the weakened ceiling gave way, stone crashing all around. Vermen snapped his eyes shut and held his breath. The roar of the collapsing cave filled his ears. All he could feel was Seraphin’s warmth against his and man’s hair tickling his cheek.
Neither of them moved as the rumbling died and dust settled. Seraphin clung to his clothes, panting hard, his eyes wide from fear and his mouth quirked in a grimace. His glasses had fallen off. Vermen still held his breath. Seraphin had saved him. Hans had never been this aware of the cold stone against his back, of the warm body against his, gripping his clothes and panting. Of another man’s lips inches away.
Hans stretched his neck and kissed him.
It lasted a second. A soft, intense second in which he forgot everything else.
Then Vermen’s mind caught up to his body and he shoved Seraphin off him. The Regarian landed with a pained cry while Vermen scrambled away. The captain glared at Seraphin, breathless, bitterness riling up as he berated himself for being so stupid. You didn’t do these things with your brother’s murderer. You just didn’t.
Seraphin’s pained expression morphed into mild amusement. “If that’s why you’ve been chasing me all those years, you should’ve said. I wouldn’t have run so much.”
“No!” Vermen’s hands curled into fists at his side and he jumped to his feet. “I’m not—”
“Interested?”
“Gay!”
“That’s okay. Neither am I.”
Seraphin Holt was mocking him. He sat there, holding his ankle, a superior smile etched on his lips. Years of hatred rushed back, making his head spin. Vermen stepped forward, his fist shaking. He would feel so much better if he hit him hard, taught him to shut up every now and then.
“What am I supposed to make of that answer?”
Seraphin’s mirth vanished. His gaze followed Vermen’s approach. “I don’t know what to make of your kiss and you don’t see me complaining. Calm down.”
His demand had the opposite effect and Vermen let out a cry of rage. He had to get out before he smashed his only guide’s head against a rock. He ought to find Maniel instead. She never made fun of him. He spun on his heels, ready to stalk down the river to their small caves. Huge boulders blocked his way, remains of the collapse. Only a tiny stream made it through the piles of rock and Vermen stared at the rubble. His anger vanished as dread hollowed his stomac
h. They were cut off from the others.
“Vermen…” Seraphin’s voice was a lot quieter now. “Something squashed my ankle when I pushed you. I don’t think I can walk on it. And I can’t find my glasses.”
The captain turned around and grimaced when he spotted the broken glasses on the ground. Great. Not only was he stuck with Seraphin, but the man was wounded and blind. This promised to be fantastic.
“Don’t expect me to carry you around like a princess.”
Seraphin leaned back with a ragged laugh. He’d spread his left leg across the ground, turning his foot outward, and while Vermen’s retort amused him, the captain noted his controlled breathing. He was in pain, and trying to hide it.
“Not leaving me to die would suffice, I think.”
He forced a smile on his lips and extended a hand. Vermen glared at it for a long time, trying to sort through his mess of feelings, and eventually caught Seraphin’s pleading, almost apologetic look. He sighed, grabbed the offered hand, and helped the rebel leader to his feet. The Regarian leaned on him, one hand on his shoulder, and his amused smile returned. Vermen flushed, gritted his teeth together.
“If you say a single word about this I’m pushing you in a dank hole and never coming back.”
A chuckle shook Seraphin’s body, making Vermen keenly aware of his every movement. “A shame, but if you insist, Captain. Let’s get moving. We need to go around, see if we can find Maniel quickly. Staying long in these caves without food does not seem like a brilliant plan to me.”
On that, at least, they could agree. Vermen slipped under Seraphin’s shoulder to better support him, snatched their lamp from the ground and started down their only available path.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Two days had passed since the second salvo of bombs. Vermen had carried Seraphin through the snaking half-crumbled ways under Mount Kairn without stop, hoping to join with the rest of the group before their hunger grew too pressing. The explosions had shaken major structural foundations of the mountain’s networks, creating new ravines and cave-ins and forcing them to make several detours. They’d made it to their original hideout and while it was intact, no one was left inside. After that, the captain had followed his companion’s directions without questions and when they stopped in front of another pile of boulders and Seraphin swore, he understood they had reached their second destination. It hadn’t survived.
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