Unlit

by Keri Arthur

  When a deep enough cave had been created in the soil, I asked the wind to ease, then shifted my grip on Saska and dragged her to the very back of the earth shelter. It was about twelve feet in length and three wide, and a little too grave-like, when I thought about. But at least the Adlin, with their big bodies and wide shoulders, would have trouble getting down here en masse.

  Their roaring cut out again. I grabbed the gut busters, double-checked they were fully loaded and undamaged, and then returned to the cave’s opening. For a minute, everything was silent. Nothing moved other than the floating dust.

  Then a big, hairy body appeared high in the air before thumping feet first into the trench. He wedged tight at hip level and began to pound and tear at the soil. I dropped the guns, grabbed the knife, and slashed at his legs, severing tendons and biting deep into bone. He roared and twisted, the earth shuddering under the force of his blows. Dust and stone rained around me, but I continued to saw at his legs, until one was amputated and the other hanging by threads. Blood poured from the remains of his limbs, a black river that spoke of death. This time, it was his rather than mine. But the trembling earth told me there were at least five others up there, if not more.

  The movements of the Adlin stuck in the cave’s entrance got weaker, his strength seeming to drain as swiftly as his blood. His body jerked, shifting upward several inches, before he was torn from the entrance and a fierce, battle-scarred leathery face appeared. I jumped back, grabbed a gut buster, and fired. The pellets tore into the Adlin’s face, shredding his nose, cheeks, and mouth, and taking out one eye. But he didn’t move. He simply opened his broken, bloody mouth and screamed at me. His breath smelled like death. I aimed slightly higher and fired again. This time, the pellets took off the top of his head and much of his brain.

  As his body fell toward me and half covered the entrance, claws slashed down from the left. I threw myself backward, but one claw snagged my boot and dug down into flesh. I swore and fired the gut buster; hair and skin flew, and bone was revealed, but again the Adlin didn’t seem to care. He simply dragged me forward and up. I swore, grabbed my knife with my left hand, and slashed awkwardly at the claws drawing me toward death. The glass blade was diamond bright in the shadows of our earth hollow, and it cut across the Adlin’s knuckles as swiftly and as easily as paper, separating its flesh and releasing me from its grip. The creature screamed and slashed with the remains of his hand, trying to hook me again. I scrambled backward, out of his reach and out of immediate sight.

  The severed claw was still stuck in my leg, and though it hurt something fierce, I didn’t pull it out. I had no idea what damage it had done, but blood was filling my boot and I suspected it might get worse if I removed the claw. I tugged off my jacket, cut some more strips of material from it, and hastily wrapped my calf to immobilize the claw and stop it from causing further damage. The Adlin were now tearing at the tunnel opening, desperately trying to widen it. I reached across for my weapons and waited. I didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

  Dust once again filled the air, and heavy chunks of earth littered the cave entrance. Maybe they were trying to bury us rather than eat us…. The thought died as another Adlin jumped into the hole. I raised the rifle and fired. The nitrate bullets killed him in an instant and his body filled the entrance, momentarily stopping the others. But it left me with only the knife, the gut busters, and my blaster. The latter was useless against the Adlin, but that’s not what I’d be using it for anyway.

  There was no way I’d let either of us be taken alive by those things.

  I briefly closed my eyes and tried to quell the fear—and the anger—that rose. Every Nightwatch member knew death was a possibility. I just hadn’t thought mine would find me facing the enemy alone out in the middle of the Tenterra wasteland.

  The Adlin’s body was soon hauled from the widened entrance but another didn’t immediately fill its place. Maybe they’d finally learned what fate would befall them if they did. While they didn’t appear to have human intelligence, the Adlin certainly weren’t stupid. They were more than capable of creating primitive weapons, so they were certainly able to grasp the consequences of their actions—at least when the hunting rage wasn’t on them.

  But that could be said about many a human, too.

  A thumping sound began immediately above us, echoing lightly as dust floated down from the ceiling. As the thumping got louder—harder—I realized they were trying to bring the roof down. The heavy blanket of dust now swirling through the cave caught in my throat, making me cough. I hurriedly tore several strips off the bottom of my shirt to use as a filter then edged forward, wondering if it was possible to shoot any of them. The minute I moved, an arm swooped down through the trench and tried to grab me.

  I resisted the impulse to fire at the questing claws and simply kept out of their reach. I had maybe a dozen rounds left in each of the gut busters; I couldn’t afford to waste them. Not if it was going to take at least two rounds to take out one of them.

  The jumping continued and cracks appeared in the roof. I swore and reached for the wind. She stirred lightly around me then ran away, and for a minute, I thought I heard someone swearing. Which was stupid, because the wind, as much as she sometimes appeared to be playing games with me, wasn’t capable of any sort of emotion.

  The cave’s roof cracked. As I looked up, a huge chunk of stone and soil came tumbling down. I leaned sideways to avoid it then pressed the earwig in frustration. “For freedom’s sake, is anyone out there? This is Nightwatch eight-three, about to become Adlin lunch if someone doesn’t get to us within the next couple of minutes.”

  Unsurprisingly, static was my only reply. I cursed it and fate and anyone else who might be listening, then slid on my backside to the rear of our disintegrating shelter. I unlatched the blaster, counted the bullets in the chamber to ensure I kept two for Saska and myself, then gripped the gut busters and waited.

  More and more chunks of soil came down, until a crack of blue sky was visible. Another thump, and then feet appeared. I unleashed the gut busters and just kept firing. There was little point in conserving bullets now.

  Blood and bone and freedom only knew what else began to rain through the widening cracks above us. The Adlin didn’t seem to care about the damage I was inflicting on them; they just kept on jumping. The low-ammo light began to blink—a slow flashing that was little more than a countdown to our death.

  The booming retort of the weapons echoed all around us, sounding like a dozen rather than merely two. One of the gut busters fell silent, but that odd echoing continued.

  Imagination? Wishful thinking?

  I cocked my head and listened. It was neither. There were other weapons being fired out there.

  Hope surged but I clamped down on it, hard. Until every Adlin warrior was dead and I saw the evidence of salvation with my own eyes, I couldn’t allow myself to hope.

  The heavy machine-gun fire continued for another few minutes, then silence fell. I waited. A few more minutes passed, then dust stirred, a heavy cloud that drifted into our broken shelter, making any sort of vision next to impossible.

  “Nightwatch eight-three?” a deep voice said. “This is Blacklake Prime. How are you both faring down there?”

  Blacklake Prime. Winterborne hadn’t just called out the regular troops; they’d sent the commander of the whole outpost. It made me wonder who the woman I’d rescued was, because they certainly wouldn’t have done it for me.

  “I’m injured, and our witch is unconscious.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’m sending a healer down. Don’t shoot him.”

  A smile touched my lips. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about the Nightwatch, but we’re not inclined to shoot our rescuers.”

  “I thought it best to mention, given the way you were spraying bullets around.” Amusement ran through the rich tone of his voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had an armo
ry down there.”

  “No armory. I just decided it was better to go out in a blaze of glory.”

  Feet appeared at the main entrance to our cave, then a brown-clad man dropped into the trench, his fingers briefly brushing the ground before he rose again. He was carrying a medikit and looked a whole lot younger than me, although that could merely be the impression given by his rather wild-looking red hair.

  “I’m Mace Dien, chief healer at Blacklake.”

  So, once again, not just any old healer, but the man in charge. Saska had to be someone of importance—maybe even someone from one of the ruling houses.

  “Neve March.” I held out my good hand and, after a moment, he shook it. “Saska is unconscious, but I think it’s due more to overusing her abilities. I did run a scanner over her when I found her, and it came back negative for injuries.”

  His gaze briefly scanned her then came back to me. “She’s not the one needing attention right now.”

  I smile tugged my lips. “Perhaps, but she’s the reason you’re all here, is she not?”

  He didn’t bother denying it, just moved inside our shelter and crouched down beside me. “Tell me if this hurts,” he said, and lightly placed a hand on my injured leg.

  It felt like I was being touched by a hot iron, and it set off a wave of heat and pain so fierce it had a hiss escaping and sweat popping out across my brow.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His gaze shifted to my left arm, and he made a “show me” motion with a couple of fingers.

  I raised it as ordered but it was a far harder task than it should have been. Obviously now that adrenaline was no longer coursing through my body, reaction was setting in.

  Again, he touched me, and again it felt like fire. He screwed his nose up and met my gaze. “They both need immediate attention, but I can’t do anything in this pit. If I give you a painkiller, do you think you can stand being hauled out?”

  “Yes.” No matter how much pain it caused, it would never be as bad as what the Adlin would have put us through had they caught us alive.

  “Good.”

  He opened the medikit, which turned out to be extremely basic, containing little more than vials of painkillers and a couple of needle-free injectors. But then, he was a healer, and they tended to work alongside regular medicine and doctors, using a mix of psychic power and magic to heal wounds. They also tended to spend a lot of their time on the battlefield, patching up bodies to ensure survival until proper medical attention could be given.

  He injected both my arm and my leg, then closed the kit back up and rose. “Okay,” he said, offering me his hand. “Take it easy getting up. You’ve lost a lot of blood and could be very lightheaded.”

  There was no “could be” about it. I gripped his hand, took a deep, steadying breath, then nodded. He carefully pulled me upright, but it didn’t really matter. My head still spun, my knees buckled, and my stomach rose rather alarmingly. He gripped my elbow to steady me, and then shifted his grip to my waist, holding me upright in much the same manner as I’d held Saska up earlier.

  “One coming up,” he said as we shuffled forward.

  It was an effort that had sweat running down my spine and forehead. Damn, I felt weak.

  Once we’d made it into the open air, hands reached down and hauled me up. The fierceness of the sunshine had my eyes watering but it didn’t stop me from seeing the mutilated remains of the Adlin. There weren’t just five or six bodies scattered about, but over a dozen of them. It was a far greater number than what had initially attacked us and it made me wonder why. Adlin might be fierce hunters, but it was unusual for a hunting pack to allow others in on the action once the chase had begun.

  The two men who’d hauled me upright shifted their grip and then carried me across to one of three heavily armored, tanklike troop movers. These things weren’t designed for comfort, and were cramped and basic inside. This one had two medibeds situated at the rear of the vehicle. The soldiers carefully placed me the bottom bunk then gave me a nod and retreated. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore not only the sick weakness washing through my limbs but the impulse to punch the air in victory and shout obscenities at the ghosts of the Adlin who’d been slaughtered in this place. Both urges were undoubtedly a reaction to surviving the unsurvivable, but it wasn’t like we were out of the woods yet. The Adlin had showed an amazing tenacity, and part of me couldn’t help but think our problems weren’t over yet.

  Footsteps echoed as someone entered the mover, and I reluctantly opened my eyes. The man who had entered was tall, with the brown skin and hair that was commonly found amongst those who were earth witches, and eyes that were a startling green.

  “Trey Stone, Blacklake Prime.” He stopped near the bunk and crossed his arms. “That’s one hell of a chase you led the Adlin on, March.”

  “It was either run or die, and I really wasn’t in the mood for the latter today.”

  “Obviously.” His gaze scanned my face but showed little reaction to the very evident stain on my cheek. Which was odd, because it was the first thing most people commented on when they initially met me. “Was there any indication of how Saska Rossi came to be naked and unescorted in the middle of nowhere?”

  “No indication at all, Commander.”

  But the fact that she was a Rossi really did explain why everyone had gone to such lengths to rescue us. The Rossis were a very powerful family of air witches, and one of the six ruling houses in Winterborne.

  Stone was another.

  And while it wasn’t surprising to find an earth witch stationed at Blacklake—all outposts had both air and earth witches on their rosters—it was certainly unusual for the placement to go to someone from a ruling house. It was even rarer for that person to become prime.

  “And how did you get to be here, so far away from your scooter?” he asked.

  I gave him an edited version of events and he frowned. But before he could question me further, the two men who’d carried me reappeared with Saska. Stone stepped back to let them pass, then glanced at me again. “We’re returning to Blacklake. I’ll inform your captain we’ve found you alive and relatively intact.”

  “Thanks.”

  He headed out of the carrier, moving with a grace and lightness that was rare in those of earth. Or maybe it simply rare in those born into the lower houses, or in those who usually held duty at the five border encampments.

  Mace climbed into the cabin, followed by half a dozen other men. He curtained off the rear of the carrier then strapped Saska in before repeating the process on me.

  As the roar of the engine coming to life filled the air and the whole carrier began to rattle, he said, “I’m afraid your wounds aren’t going to wait until we get back to Blacklake.”

  I shrugged. “That’s okay. I have no problems with healers.”

  “Good to hear, although it wouldn’t matter if you did, because I’m all you’ve got. And you won’t be awake to protest, anyway.”

  “I’d rather not—”

  “Every Nightwatch I’ve ever treated has said that.” He placed a hand on my forehead. Heat leapt from his skin to mine, and an odd sort of peace began to descend. “The expectation of toughness must be off the scale amongst your lot.”

  “It’s not.” The words came out slightly slurred as the peacefulness began to extend across my body. “I just hate…”

  …being incapacitated when others are facing danger in my stead. But the words never made it to my lips. The peacefulness claimed me and I knew no more.

  It was the warm wash of water that woke me. For several seconds I didn’t move; I simply enjoyed the sensation as I gathered my senses and tried to figure out where I was.

  And that obviously wasn’t in the troop carrier. This place was quiet and filled with the fresh scents of herbs and femininity rather than machine oil and men.

  The gentle breeze that stirred past my skin spoke of night and stars, and told me nine hours had passed since our rescue. There was no pain eman
ating from either my arm or my leg, although a quick twitch of my left hand revealed a still unresponsive little finger. But that might have been because there was something tight wrapped around it.

  I opened my eyes. A woman with gray hair and a lined face met my gaze and smiled. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

  “I do a lot of things I’m not supposed to do.”

  A quick look around revealed I was in a hospital ward. The whitewashed walls were made of stone and lined with small windows that probably wouldn’t allow much daylight in, but also wouldn’t let anyone climb in or out. While I was currently the only occupant, there were at least a dozen beds in the room, each one possessing a silent array of medical machines both over and beside it.

  “So I hear.” The woman dunked the cloth into a tub of water and continued to wash me down. It was, I thought with a slight frown, a rather pleasurable experience. Which was weird given the situation and the lack of attraction. “Like you and the witch surviving against impossible odds.”

  “That was good luck and her abilities more than anything I might have done.” I raised my hand and saw that it was still in a partial splint. “What’s happened to my finger?”

  “It was smashed and severed. They’ve managed to reattach the flesh, but the bone was almost beyond repair. They’ve inserted metal knuckles and joints and are hoping the grafts will take.”

  The skin at the tip of my finger was pink, which at least indicated the blood vessels were working as they should.

  “And Saska? Where’s she?”

  “In the state apartments. Can’t have someone of her ilk staying with us commoners, now, can we?” It was said with a smile, and without rancor.

  “We surely can’t.” I echoed her smile and held out my good hand. “I’m Neve.”

  She wiped a hand on her skirts then shook mine. “Treace. Chief nurse and all-round dogsbody in this place.”