Orphan's Song

by Gillian Bronte Adams

  But something still nagged at Ky.

  He scuffed a foot against the tunnel floor. If Cade didn’t have the sword, and it hadn’t been seized with Dizzier, then where was it? Dizzier’s capture replayed in his mind. He shrank from it, but the memory persisted.

  And suddenly he knew where the sword was.

  The words sprang to his lips and then died unspoken. He just couldn’t tell Cade where it was. As long as the sword remained in the Underground, everyone would be in danger, and he couldn’t risk that, not for an independent thieving run, or a captaincy, or all the approbations in the world.

  Cade folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t have to answer to you. You allowed Dizzier to be slain, abandoned us after the raid, and now you’ve returned, leading strangers into the Underground. You betrayed us, Ky.”

  With a start, Ky realized he had forgotten about Birdie and Amos. He started to speak and explain the stranger’s identity as a friend of Lucas, but a distant crash from the entrance passage interrupted him.

  Cade’s gaze flickered around the circle and settled on Paddy. He sent the redhead scrambling up the tunnel with a jerk of his head, then turned to face Amos and Birdie. “Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Look here, laddie.” Amos took a heavy breath that reeked of longsuffering patience. “I roamed these tunnels before ye were born, so I suggest ye show a bit o’ respect.”

  He squeezed Ky’s shoulder. It was oddly comforting and constraining at the same time.

  Ky wriggled free.

  “You roamed these tunnels?” Cade’s eyes narrowed. “Now that’s mighty strange. My father told me that the only ones who knew about these tunnels were outlaws, thieves, and smugglers. Is that what you are then, an outlaw?”

  Amos pursed his lips. “Ye’re Lucas’s son, aren’t ye? Ye sound just like him. I’d know that tone o’ voice anywhere.”

  Cade faltered for just a moment. “You knew my father?” Then he spun around and scowled at Ky. “Is this some sort of ill-conceived jest?”

  Before Ky could answer, a soft moan came from his left. Birdie stood with her head in her hands, staring unseeing at the floor. “Amos, the soldiers are coming . . . now.”

  Silence overtook the circle of runners. All eyes swept first to Birdie then to Amos. Even Cade seemed at a loss for words—something Ky would have found mighty satisfying under any other circumstances.

  Bare feet slapped down the tunnel toward them, and Paddy burst into the midst of the circle, red hair aflame in the torchlight, freckles standing out on his nose and cheeks like splotches of mud on his white face. He blurted his report, gasping for breath in between words. “Dark soldiers . . . in the tunnel . . . comin’ fast.”

  Steel sighed against leather and wood, and the sharp tip of a blade pricked Ky’s neck. Slowly, he turned his head to meet Cade’s furious gaze.

  “You led them here.”

  His stomach roiled at the accusation. Cursed fool that he’d been, walking through the streets in the company of strangers in broad daylight. How had he not realized they had been followed? That he had led the soldiers to the Underground and all the little defenseless ones in the cavern just around the next bend.

  He fumbled for something to say.

  A small, white hand settled on Cade’s blade, slowly, gently pushing it away from Ky’s throat. “It’s our fault the soldiers are here, not his. I’m sorry.”

  Cade shifted the blade toward Birdie.

  “Don’t be a fool, lad, there’s no time for it!” Amos’s voice broke through the tension like the snap of a bowstring. “The soldiers are comin’. D’ye intend t’ fight or run?”

  “We can’t run,” Paddy said. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Then stop standin’ around like a bunch of seaswoggled slumgullions! Ye must fight now.”

  Cade sprang into action and began issuing orders. “Paddy, assemble the runners and issue weapons. Jena, take the little ones down the other tunnels, out of bowshot. Be prepared to scatter throughout the city should we be overrun. Neil, you and three others build a barricade at the entrance to the cavern. We’ll hold them off there. Hurry!”

  The runners scattered to do his bidding. With his good hand, Ky slipped his sling from his belt and patted down his stone pouch. Still a few left, though not nearly enough to make much of a difference against the soldiers. He would have to make each shot count.

  “Look, lad.” Amos gripped Cade’s arm. “I helped build these tunnels. I fought in ‘em. I can help. But I don’t have time t’ explain everythin’. Ye’ll just have t’ trust me. There’s a section o’ this tunnel, right before the main cavern, that’s rigged t’ collapse. I know where ’tis. Build yer barricade here, not at the entrance t’ the cavern, an’ hold ’em off ’til I call the retreat. Then everyone needs t’ run straight back t’ the cavern ’cause the walls are comin’ down.”

  Arms crossed, Cade stared at Amos a moment, then finally nodded. “Do it, but don’t expect to get off so easily. We will speak later. Ky, help him. Signal when you’re ready.”

  Ky started to object, but Cade was already racing away, shouting for Neil to hurry with the barricade. Runners scurried past, toting barrels, crates, chests, tables—anything they could find—along with their weapons. In just moments, a makeshift barricade had been erected, and the runners crouched behind it, waiting for the soldiers.

  That was where Ky should be. Defending the Underground alongside the other runners, not running errands for some stranger!

  “Quick, lad.” Amos propelled him down the tunnel with a hand to his back. “Ye too, lass. There isn’t much time.”

  Cade barreled past with Paddy at his heels, both carrying bows and bundles of arrows. “To me, Underground!” Cade cried.

  Down the tunnel, like the rush of the River Adayn in the spring floods, came the clatter of iron-shod feet and the hoarse war cries of the soldiers.

  25

  “Fire!” Cade shouted, and the snap of bowstrings, the whine of slings, and the clatter of missiles filled the air. Screams reverberated off the walls of the tunnel, bouncing back and forth until the horrendous din surrounded Birdie as if she stood in the very center of the battle.

  “Hurry, lass.” Amos tugged her forward. He stopped a short way down the tunnel, about a hundred feet behind the barricade, and ran his hands over a section of the wall that had not been shored up with stone. He spoke to Ky without turning. “Is there a fire within?”

  Focused on the fight at the barricade, the boy did not respond. His sling swung back and forth as if impatient to join the fray.

  Amos spun and gripped him by the shoulders. “Is there a fire within the cavern?”

  “A fire, yes.”

  “Good. Fetch me three burning brands. And quick.”

  Ky grunted, and clutching his side, raced toward the cavern end of the tunnel, returning a moment later with three flaming brands. Birdie accepted hers gingerly and turned her attention to Amos.

  The peddler gestured as he spoke. “We built the tunnels with an eye for defense. ’Twas always a possibility that an enemy would find their way in, so we left two sections in each o’ the main tunnels un-shored with stone or wood, one right before the cavern, the other at the mouth of the tunnel. And we planted packets of ryree powder throughout the wall in the un-shored sections.”

  Birdie remembered the virtues of the red powder only too well. The few flakes Nisus had sprinkled on his tinder had been enough to start a roaring fire. Several packets in the wall could prove deadly.

  Amos motioned them over. “See here?” He pointed to a gummy black strand poking out of the wall. “Fuses—a tarred string attached t’ the packet. We light the fuse, it burns t’ the packet an’ ignites it, an’ the combined force o’ the flame weakens the wall t’ the point o’ collapse. Ye got it?”

  Ky nodded. “Let�
��s get it done with and join the real battle.”

  A shrill scream yanked Birdie’s attention to the fight raging around the barricade. One of the Underground girls staggered back, struck by an arrow. She fell to the ground, and a tall Khelari burst through the barricade where she had been standing and charged down the tunnel.

  The carved wooden hilt filled Birdie’s hand and the blade whipped from the sheath before she realized she had drawn her sword. Amos’s dirk whistled past her head and pierced the soldier’s throat. At the same time, one of Ky’s slingstones smashed into his face. He crumpled to the ground.

  Amos ran to retrieve his dirk, shouting over his shoulder. “G’on, lass!”

  Birdie sheathed her sword and rushed over to the wall. Scattered at uneven heights, the tarred strings looked like tree roots poking their knobby fingers through the earth. She blew on her brand to raise the smoking embers to life and touched it to the first strand.

  Nothing happened.

  She held it there a moment longer, willing it to catch. The strand sizzled and ignited, and she dashed down the length of the wall, lighting the rest of the strings on her side. She had scarce finished when Amos thundered toward the cavern bellowing “Retreat!” at the top of his lungs.

  An ear-piercing whistle from Ky skittered down the tunnel.

  Instantly, the Underground runners broke away from the barricade and raced toward the cavern at full speed.

  Birdie spun to follow Amos and almost tripped over two dead Khelari lying in the tunnel, their blood turning the earthen floor to mud. She’d been so focused on her task, she hadn’t even heard them coming. But from the looks of it, Amos had.

  She ran to the end of the tunnel, and skidded to a stop beside Amos and Ky, behind a stack of barrels just within the main cavern.

  “Here.” Amos tossed her a crossbow, and she barely caught it. A quiver of bolts rattled at her feet. “Borrowed it from a Khelari. Load up.” He cranked back the string on a second crossbow. “Time ye put that trainin’ o’ yours t’ use. We’ll cover ’em as they come in.”

  Birdie’s hands shook, but she forced herself into action. She shrugged her pack off, set her foot in the stirrup of the bow, and started cranking. When the string was drawn, she dropped a bolt into the groove and raised the stock to her shoulder, ready to fire.

  Her arms trembled so much that she had to lower the bow. There was no chance yet of shooting without fear of hitting one of their own runners retreating from the barricade.

  She had never fired at anything living before, let alone a person! And that was a terrible thought. But worse still was the fear that she wanted to fire at the Khelari, wanted to kill the terrible black armored soldiers.

  She shoved the thought from her mind and raised the bow to her shoulder.

  The runners retreated into the cavern, dragging the wounded with them. Cade and three older boys hung back, loosing volleys of arrows to cover the retreat.

  “Cade!” Ky’s shout caught the older boy’s attention, and he looked back for half a second. “On three drop!”

  Cade nodded.

  “One . . . Two . . . Three!”

  Cade and his fighters dove to the ground.

  Birdie squeezed the lever, and the bolt shot from the bow. She couldn’t see where it struck, but two soldiers fell before the combined volley of the two crossbows and Ky’s sling. Mechanically, she followed Amos and Ky’s lead, reloading and firing again, then advancing a few paces into the tunnel to cover Cade and his fighters as they raced to the cavern.

  Then Amos gripped her and Ky by the arm and dragged them back. “Go, go, go!”

  The ryree powder!

  A sweet smell, like apples and cinnamon steaming in a pot, saturated the air. Tiny trails of fire flickered across the walls, like night moths luminous in the light of a torch. Birdie dove into the cavern at Amos’s heels.

  A thunderous roar shook the Underground as the sides of the tunnel caved in and the roof collapsed, filling the passage with earth and completely blocking the entrance.

  Ky’s lungs burned. With a ragged groan, he pushed up from the ground and clutched his left side. Fresh blood stained his bandaged hand.

  Dust blanketed the cavern and stung his eyes. Through the ringing of his ears, he could hear the dull clanging of weapons somewhere to his left. Next to him, Birdie sat up, gasping for breath. A stocky form bent over them, then Amos gripped his good arm by the elbow and hauled him to his feet before assisting Birdie to rise.

  Ky scanned the cavern. The cave-in didn’t look to have harmed anything beyond the main entrance tunnel. A fire still blazed in the central stone ring, while the store-room and armory were intact. On all sides, the runners stood, or lay, or sat in clusters, stunned expressions on their faces, weapons dropping unnoticed from their hands. Some had tears in their eyes. Others clutched open wounds with blood seeping between their fingers.

  He could just about smell the fear choking the cavern.

  The clanging stopped, a cry rang out, and a soldier fell dead at Cade’s feet. The Underground leader wiped his sword on the body and then sheathed it.

  Ky started toward Cade, but Paddy intercepted him and clapped him on the back. “Well done, laddy-boyo! We did it!”

  The truth slowly sank into Ky’s brain. “Yeah, Paddy, guess we did.” He glanced toward Birdie and forced his lips into what he hoped would pass for a reassuring grin.

  She did not smile back.

  Her gaze fell to the tip of a soldier’s boot sticking out from beneath the pile of rubble, and she looked like she was about to be sick.

  Across the cavern, Cade barked an order, and the runners started back to work without a word, cleaning weapons, restoring things to their rightful places, and tending to the wounded. Ky wrapped his sling around his waist, tied it in place one handed, and laid out bedrolls beside the fire for the seriously injured. He took in the pain-seared faces, the ragged moans, and the blood spilling from jagged wounds, and any ounce of relief he’d felt vanished.

  The soldiers might have been defeated, but this was no victory.

  “Aliyah!” Cade’s breathless voice startled Ky. The Underground leader pushed past him and dropped beside one of the bedrolls.

  Ky crept to his side. An arrow pierced Aliyah’s chest, blood staining the front of her ragged dress. Her eyes were closed, and her breath rasped in her throat like the rattling of the stones in his pouch. Beneath the hem of her dress, one leg was twisted and scarred.

  Cade’s fingers trembled as he brushed strands of blonde hair out of her face. “She was supposed to leave . . . down the tunnels with the others!”

  “Step back lad, let me see what I can do.” Amos’s deep voice carried a note of calm assurance that eased Ky’s fears, but his face, when he looked up from examining Aliyah’s wound, dashed all hope. “I . . . I’m sorry, lad.”

  “No . . . no, don’t say that.” Cade clutched her hand in both of his own. “You have to help her.”

  “There’s naught I can do.” Amos’s voice was hard, but pity showed in the lines of his face. He shook his head. “All this time, an’ I never even knew Lucas had a daughter.”

  “That’s because you abandoned this city before she was born.” Cade’s eyes rolled up to meet Amos’s, and his voice dropped to a low, dangerous pitch that Ky could barely hear. “I know who you are, so it’s no use denying it. Not with that dirk in your belt. My father said you were dead. Hawkness was dead.”

  Ky started and searched Amos’s face for the truth, but the man’s expression might as well have been carved from stone for all he could read in it.

  “But we couldn’t give up, not my father and I.” Cade grunted as he pushed up to his feet. “We could never give up. You left us to stand alone, and look where it’s gotten us.”

  “All right, lad, c’mon. Not here.” Amos gripped Cade by the arm and steered him away fro
m Aliyah’s side. Ky tried to follow but a glare from Amos kept him rooted to the spot.

  There was no denial in Amos’s eyes.

  No surprise at Cade’s accusation. No hint that he was offended. And that was enough to convince Ky that it might be true. Blinking, he ran the oiled leather strings of his sling slowly between his fingers. To think he’d spent the morning yammering on like a fool in the company of one of the greatest outlaws of all time.

  The legendary Hawkness.

  Surrounded by the wounded, Birdie bowed her head, choking on the lump lodged in her throat. She couldn’t look, couldn’t bear to see any more, but no matter where she turned it was the same—suffering, sorrow, death.

  And it was all her fault.

  Pain followed her wherever she went, shadowing her like the cursed Song. Why should others suffer because of her?

  A few feet away, Amos pulled Cade from the side of a wounded girl, and the Underground leader allowed himself to be led, taking stiff, cautious steps as though he expected the earth to crumble beneath him. She could not hear their whispered conversation, but she could not help watching as Amos drew his dirk and pressed it into Cade’s hand, speaking in his earnest, dynamic way. Beside her, Ky’s forehead wrinkled, and he scuffed his toes across the dirt floor, studying the patterns in the dust.

  Cade’s shoulders straightened as Amos spoke, and his stance shifted from that of the broken and defeated to that of a warrior. He clutched the dirk in his hands for a moment, then returned the blade to Amos who clapped him on the back.

  There was a hard cast to Cade’s features when he knelt again by the girl’s side, but even the firmness of his mouth could not hide the wet streaks beneath his eyes.

  Tears rolled down Birdie’s cheeks, blurring the images of suffering. She closed her eyes and allowed the shadows to engulf her. A soft humming throbbed in her ears. She sought to quench it, but the melody would not be stopped. Quiet at first, a whispering candle flame, then it spread through her, tingling and warm, a ray of sunlight after an endless cold winter.