I bite my bottom lip as the reality hits me that any one of us could be executed next if he discovers Phin and Ayma hiding upstairs.
“It wasn’t his fault.” I fight to keep my voice from wavering as I lie. “We threatened him.”
The thug wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and gestures impatiently with the barrel of his gun. “Upstairs, now. Furax is not gonna be happy when he hears about all the chaos you caused.”
I open my mouth to retort, but Velkan gives a subtle shake of his head. Trembling with rage and shock, I get to my feet and follow him across the foyer. The thug keeps his weapon trained on us as we ascend, our footsteps ringing out on the wooden stairs.
All of a sudden, a flash of black drops from the chandelier in the stairwell, and then there’s a dull thud behind me, followed by a single shot. I turn to see Phin standing over the thug’s body holding his weapon. My knees go weak with relief.
“Are you okay?” Phin eyes Velkan and me anxiously.
My tongue sticks in my throat when I try to answer him.
“We’re fine,” Velkan says. “Where’s Ayma?”
“Hiding in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I’ll get her.” Phin runs up the stairs, two at a time, and yanks open the first door on the left. “Let’s go,” he says in an urgent tone.
An ashen Ayma appears in the doorway, awkwardly clutching a sharpened slat. “I heard the shot. I didn’t know who was dead so I didn’t want to come out,” she says in a relieved squeak.
“They’re all dead.” I swallow hard. “Bones too.”
“Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up,” Phin urges.
We race back down the stairs and out through the front door.
It’s dark outside on the side street, but the flickering lights from the taverns on the main thoroughfare off in the distance are an ominous reminder that the body poachers are not far away.
“How are we going to rescue the tanner?” Ayma asks.
“We’ll wait until the taverns have cleared out,” I say.
“We’ll need to look for somewhere to hide until things quiet down,” Phin says.
“Or we could hide in plain sight,” I suggest.
Velkan frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“We could slip in among the other prisoners in the pen.”
Ayma turns to me, horror struck. “I was on my way to the cryogenic facility once, I’m not running that risk a second time.”
Phin scrutinizes the roofline of the inn for a few moments. “Our best bet is to travel over the rooftops and wait behind the parapet at the back of the tavern until we’re ready to make our move,” he says. “It’s dark enough now that no one will see us.”
“That’s a much better idea.” I give an approving nod. I’m thankful yet again for Phin’s military training, which is proving invaluable, not only when it comes to eliminating threats, but also when we need to think strategically. He’s a good asset for putting legs to my hare-brained ideas that put us all at risk.
We retreat to the back side of the inn and begin scaling the crumbling wall. For the most part, there are enough stones jutting out at every angle beside an old, cast-iron drain pipe that the climb is relatively simple, easing the strain on our arms. Phin shows us how to wedge our feet between the pipe and the wall when there are no other ledges to push off from. The last clamp securing the pipe to the top of the wall is broken and the pipe pulls away from the roof as we hoist ourselves up in turn. I hold my breath until everyone is safely up.
“Use your entire foot to increase traction,” Phin urges us as he takes the lead over the banks of sloping rooftops. He moves as a shadowy silhouette in a series of seamless vaults and rolls, mastered, no doubt, in his elite military training academy.
Navigating the rooftops proves more difficult for the rest of us. The occasional chimney or turret provides a welcome relief from the foreign art of balancing on a sloped surface. Despite my fleet-footedness, the material on the rooftops is unfamiliar to me and I don’t trust the wooden shingles. I’m used to heights, but the barren outcroppings I leap between when hunting on Cwelt are as familiar to me as my own skin.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I concentrate on traversing the roofs without tumbling to my death below. One of the roofs is rotted through and the sheathing almost gives beneath my feet before I manage to leap to a safer spot. My knuckles are already scraped raw from several near misses. I turn and wait for Ayma, who has fallen behind and is struggling to find a safe line to cross the rotted roof.
“I’ve decided I’m afraid of heights,” she grumbles when she catches up.
“You’re not afraid of heights in that stealth fighter,” I retort.
“That’s because there’s no danger of free-falling,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “This is a lot more terrifying than zipping through the star system.”
“Then pretend that’s what we’re doing,” I say, with a wry grin.
When we finally reach the tavern roof on the main street, I sink down on my haunches and peer carefully over the parapet into the pen below. Most of the prisoners are stretched out in the straw, and the sound of snoring fills the air. I frown as I survey the scene. The guard who was posted at the gate is gone. Maybe he stepped inside the tavern to talk to someone. I work my way around the eaves until I have a clear view of the hitching post at the front of the pen. My eyes widen in disbelief and I almost lose my balance.
The tanner is gone too.
7
We huddle together on the far side of the roof in a whispered heated exchange.
“We have to look for her,” I say, my tone unflinching although my insides are churning with doubt. The tanner could be anywhere, and finding her in a town we are unfamiliar with, in the dead of night, with body poachers housed on every corner is nothing short of a suicide mission.
Ayma fixes troubled eyes on me as she crouches on the roof tiles, catlike in the shadows. “You know that’s impossible. Whatever chance we had of rescuing her is over.”
“She could be anywhere,” Phin chimes in. “How do you propose we find her?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say curtly. I don’t add that we may have to put a gun to someone’s head to get the information we need. Desperation is mounting inside me. I throw a harried glance at Velkan. He twists his lips in an apologetic gesture, but even he’s not willing to attempt a rescue that’s doomed from the outset.
“We should head back to the ship before it’s too late for all of us,” he says. “I’m sorry, Trattora, but we tried.”
My stomach knots at the memory of the desperate plea in the tanner woman’s eyes. It was a long shot thinking we could rescue her at all. Now I have to concede it’s hopeless. We could search the town all night and still not find her. And we’d almost certainly be spotted and intercepted at some point. Not to mention the fact that she may not be alive anymore. I’ve got no reason to trust Furax to keep the terms of any deal I strike with him. As much as it pains me, it’s time to forget her and focus on those I can still save.
“Head for the ship,” I say with a heavy sigh. I know this decision will gnaw at me forever, just like losing Meldus does, but there’s only so much I can do.
Phin’s features shift into a grim expression of relief. He wastes no time plotting our escape route, silently motioning with two fingers to the next building. He leads the way, his muscled frame moving with graceful agility as he traverses the gable and vaults to the neighboring roof like a powerful cat. He scrambles up and disappears over the ridge in half a heartbeat. I grit my teeth and commit to the only reasonable course of action left, to follow him.
We drop down to the last roof at the edge of town, a lean-to shack beside a building supply store. The street leading the rest of the way to the bridge looks deserted. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the only people we’ll have to engage at this time of night will be the unsuspecting guards at the river. With our weapons and a little stealth, we can easily take them out.<
br />
“Ready?” Phin whispers to us.
We nod and, one by one, leap from the shack to the ground and dart after Phin as he takes off down the street, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. When the river comes into view, we slow our pace and move deeper into the thick jungle of undergrowth that lines the hillside on either side of the street.
“Take the lead from here,” Phin says to me. “I’ll cover the rear.” He falls back behind Velkan and Ayma, like his military training has taught him. We make a good team. He knows my hunting instincts will serve us well in this dense vegetation, and he’s the best second set of eyes I could ask for to bring up our rear.
Several hundred feet from the bridge, I come to a halt and study the scene in front of me, sensing something amiss. I hold up my hand to the others on their approach.
“What’s wrong?” Velkan asks.
“I don’t see the guards,” I say in a puzzled tone.
Velkan shrugs. “Maybe they see no reason to post a guard. What ship’s going to land on a supposedly uninhabited planet at night?”
I consider what he’s saying. It makes sense to some degree, but it’s odd the body poachers wouldn’t post a guard anyway on the off chance a prisoner managed to escape. A shudder runs through me. Maybe no one lives long enough to attempt an escape.
“They could be patrolling the river,” Phin points out. “We can’t see below the embankment from here.”
I survey the dappled shadows, noting every nook and cranny we can take cover in if someone surprises us once we reach the river. There’s only one way out of town. We’re going to have to cross the bridge to reach the trail back to the landing pad, and that means leaving the cover of the jungle and exposing ourselves regardless of who might be out there.
“Stay alert,” I hiss over my shoulder. I creep forward, silent as a shadow, groaning inwardly at the loud crunch Ayma makes directly behind me. I turn and pull her close. “Try to walk on the dirt, not the dead foliage. Heel first, match my pace.”
She gives a nervous nod, her face a mask of concentration in the moonlight as she tries to implement my suggestions.
By the time we reach the river a few minutes later, it’s painfully obvious why they don’t bother posting guards. The bridge has been drawn up and secured with a giant padlock so it’s impossible for anyone to cross.
“We’ll have to ford the river,” I whisper to the others, eying with unease the dark, slick water surging below us.
Ayma sucks forcefully on her lip. “Do you think there’s anything in it?”
I hesitate, reluctant to give voice to any fears that may dissuade her. That was my first thought too, but we’re not turning back now, no matter what we have to do. I give a dismissive wave of my hand. “Of course not. The water’s cold and fast-flowing, but that’s all we need to concern ourselves with.”
Phin studies me for a moment as if trying to decide whether or not I saw something in the water and know more than I’m letting on. He pulls out his gun and gives it a practiced once over. “If we’re going to do this, we need to move now. As soon as those bodies are discovered at the inn, they’ll be searching for us and the first place they’ll head for is the bridge.”
I turn to go, but Velkan’s faltering voice stops me. He clears his throat. “I … can’t swim.”
I blink, momentarily thrown off. Of course he can’t. He might have tried to escape if Sarth had let him learn. My mind races to regroup. I don’t know how deep the river is, but it’s too fast-flowing for a non-swimmer to make it across if he’s carried off his feet. Before I can come up with a plan, Phin hands his gun to Ayma, his face set in a flinty expression. “I’ll help Velkan across. But I can’t watch our rear at the same time.”
Ayma gulps, but takes the gun without hesitation.
I throw a questioning look her way. “Please tell me you learned to swim in that bio-luminescent pool of yours on Aristozonex.”
Her brows meet in a reproving arch. “Of course. I’m a strong swimmer.”
My eyes meet Phin’s, but his blank expression tells me he’s never seen her swim. We have no choice but to take her at her word. I focus my attention back on the water gliding along with a formidable current on either edge of the bank, and a frightening ferocity that ripples down the center. If we have to resort to swimming, there’s a good chance one of us will be swept downriver and separated from the group.
“We’ll need poles.” I gesture at the undergrowth. “Everyone find something at least your height that can bear your weight when you lean on it.” Finding something we can use for support will take up valuable time, but without it we have no hope of making it across on foot.
Five minutes later, we’re scrambling down the steep embankment to the forbidding river. The sound of water gently slapping up against the bank is deceptive. Downstream the liquid blackness swirls in suspicious eddies that indicate submerged boulders. We’re going to need to do everything in our power not to lose our footing. If one of us is thrown against a boulder and knocked out, we won’t be able to help each other in this fast-moving body of water.
Up ahead, I hear Phin giving last minute directions to Velkan, low-voiced and deliberate. I’m thankful for his strength and steely resolve in the face of yet another unexpected challenge. If anyone can get Velkan across this river safely, it’s Phin.
He plants his pole in the water and steps off the bank, motioning to Velkan to go next. Leaving Ayma to take up the rear, I follow in Velkan’s footsteps, carefully gauging the depth with every hesitant step as I wade further out into the center of the river. My muscles tighten as I fight to resist the force of the water surrounding me like a musclebound monster eager to rip my feet from the river bottom and toss me downstream. I shiver. There’s no telling what real river monsters could be lurking in pools downstream.
The water is icy cold, but my jumpsuit responds by flooding my limbs with warmth, allowing me to forget the physical discomfort and focus on wrestling my way across the river bed. The water level almost reaches my shoulders, but to my relief I realize I’ve already passed the halfway point. Moments later, Phin and Velkan scramble to the other shore and turn to offer me a hand. I plough forward a little too eagerly and almost lose my footing, but my pole saves me. I reach out a hand and Velkan grabs me and pulls me to safety.
I turn to look for Ayma. Despite the warmth emanating from my suit, my blood chills at the sight. She is standing in the middle of the river, clinging to her pole, frozen with fear.
I cup my hands around my mouth and yell. “Come on! You can do it, Ayma.”
“I can’t,” she screams, the raw terror in her voice sending a tingle up my spine.
I snatch up my pole from the bank and wade back into the water. “Keep coming toward me! I’ll pull you to shore.”
She shakes her head vehemently, clutching her pole in a death grip.
“We don’t have time to talk her through this,” Phin mutters, brushing by me.
He wades back out, his powerful strides slowing to measured steps as he reaches the rapidly-moving center of the river. He says something to Ayma and then slips a burly arm under her right arm and behind her back. I take a shallow breath and watch as he inches his way back across the river, half-dragging Ayma with him. When they reach waist-high water, Velkan and I splash back in to meet them and help pull Ayma onto the bank. She sinks to the ground, shivering with shock. “I’m sorry,” she moans over and over. “Every time I tried to move the river almost swept me away.”
“It’s not your fault,” Phin says, heaving breaths. “It’s because you’re so light.”
“Told you I was useless,” Ayma adds in a glum voice.
Phin grins as he retrieves the gun from her. “Not entirely. You didn’t drop our only real weapon.”
I rub Ayma’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”
She wipes her fingertips over her eyes and gets to her feet.
I adjust my BodPak and lead the way u
p the river bank and back to the trail. We haven’t gone more than twenty feet before the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I swivel and frantically wave the others into the jungle before slipping into the undergrowth after them. I recognize that ominous feeling. We are being watched—tracked—by something or someone. My hunting instincts kick into full gear, honed by years of hounding prey. Are the body poachers already on our tail?
For several minutes, I listen for the approach of our stalker, but not even the crackle of dead foliage underfoot gives away his position. My thoughts tumble over one another as I run through the possibilities. Someone who can move with stealth. A worthy opponent, and a skilled tracker. I signal to Phin to get ready, but he’s already aiming his gun into the brush, moving it left to right in search of an encroaching threat. I pull out my knife and a sharpened slat from my BodPak, but I have no idea where to aim. Frowning, I look skyward, wondering if the predator I sense is overhead, but no shadow darkens the moonlit sky. The others exchange bewildered looks. “I can’t hear anything,” Velkan whispers.
I motion at him to stay quiet. Instinct tells me our hunter is closing in. I dart a frantic glance around. I can almost feel his blood coursing through his veins as he prepares to strike. At the last second I detect movement and raise my spear arm as a terrifying catlike animal springs from the undergrowth with a musclebound thrust of powerful hind legs. It glides through the air on extended membranous wings, glistening white fangs drawn. The hackles on its chest crest are raised like a spiked battlement, threatening war. It lands with a heavy thud, six feet from me, and digs its pronged claws deep into the dirt, signaling its hostile intentions. Foam drips from its bared fangs, its spiked tail swinging to and fro like a mace. The shocking sight almost paralyzes me. My arm shakes, threatening to betray me.
Phin shoots, but the bullet bounces off the crest that rings the wild cat’s neck like plated armor. Enraged, the creature turns its attention on Phin. For once, his face betrays the emotion he normally keeps in check. Shock and terror zip across his rugged features in quick succession, propelling me into action. I take aim at the cat’s exposed neck as it twists to hone in on Phin. My arm goes back in a practiced motion and the sharpened slat sails through the air and hits the soft flesh above a pulsing artery. The creature roars in agony and whips around in a frenzy in time for me to land my knife between its eyes. It staggers backward on its powerful hind legs for a couple of steps before keeling to one side with a sickening thud.
Girl of Stone (The Expulsion Project Book 2) Page 6
