Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  His aide stood next to the vice commander, handing him a small cloth. With it, the vice commander polished a small monocle attached to a lanyard. “Some serious events have unfolded in the past few hours.”

  Braknow stood with his arms straight down, focused intently on doing—nothing. He resisted the urge to lick his lips and shift back and forth on his feet.

  “We have captured two more spies within our borders. Today.”

  Braknow’s eyes shrugged for a moment as his head tilted. “Any names or information?”

  “Names? No. We haven’t gotten them to talk. Yet. The information they carried, though, was quite shocking.” The vice commander paused. Seconds ticked away.

  The colonel waited, shifted to his other foot, and clasped his hands behind his back. “And?”

  “It appears the first one had already delivered his message. I'm not sure what, but it’s the second one that is more interesting. He had a highly detailed report including troop movements, unit sizes, and other logistical information. All top secret, and a most curious signature. Someone known as The Raven.”

  Braknow’s stomach sank. The double sealed report he had handed off just a few hours ago. Could they trace it back to him?

  “Looks like the report used to be sealed, but not enough of the emblem remains to figure out by whom.”

  Braknow’s mouth opened. The eyes of the vice commander’s aide narrowed.

  “Why would a renegade courier be carrying intelligence out in the open?” Braknow forced himself to relax and unclasp his hands.

  “Good question. The man was either curious or had a different plan than The Raven. The paper and wax appear to be standard military issue.”

  Their fast detective work made the colonel nervous. The idiot he had enlisted had opened it, gotten caught, and put him at risk. Braknow’s eyes dropped to the floor while he clenched his teeth.

  “Sir, is it possible the report was stolen?”

  “Interesting idea.” The vice commander tilted his head. “Perhaps if you and your aide visited the brig, you might identify this traitor. Track down if he had access to your office.”

  “My office?”

  “We’re checking with all top officers, Colonel.”

  “Sir, Everdell has been out all day. Probably sick.”

  “I see. Perhaps she can stop by tomorrow. Be advised, security is a critical facet. Anything you uncover must be sent to me. At once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  The colonel left. Instead of returning to his office, he headed to the brig. Entering, he spied the man he’d seen earlier.

  “Gentlemen, a little privacy?” He glanced at the two soldiers covering the doorway.

  After they stepped out, Braknow gripped the bars. “What were you doing? They just read the double sealed report I handed you.”

  The man stared at the ground before raising his eyes. “Different orders. That report was to be distributed with five other realms. I had to make copies. Anything from The Raven is top quality and must be shared with as many as possible.”

  The colonel’s mouth opened as his eyes moved back and forth. “Don’t say that here. You want to make it easy for them?”

  “You’re the one who has supplied key intelligence. I didn’t know that until now.”

  “What are you saying?”

  The man swallowed before speaking. “Past reports have been routed through many contacts, and usually through several intermediates. When we split a report, we alter each one so they don’t sound identical. All of it is done to protect you.”

  “Because The Raven was the only one high enough for that level of intelligence.” Braknow slumped against the bars. It was too much at once. He had broken from Melicose’s spell and shook off those alluring words of glory, but he never expected to be pulled this far to the other side.

  “Your alert came so fast, we didn’t have time to set things up right. And we failed. I fear this pipeline is burned. For good.” With those words, the man stared straight at the colonel.

  Dozens of reports had leaked out—he assumed from other parts of the government. Talk about being alone.

  Braknow looked back at the man, glaring at him.

  “I said, this pipeline is burned. For good.” His hand was open and stretched out.

  “Just one thing,” Braknow muttered. “Did you know it was me?”

  The prisoner shook his head. “Not until this morning. Thanks. Thanks for everything, Raven.”

  The resolve this man showed. He was committed to the cause up until the bitter end.

  Colonel Braknow made a slight nod and reached into his pockets. He pulled out a tiny pill and placed it in the courier’s hands before putting his other hand on the man’s shoulder.

  The prisoner swallowed the pill, and within seconds he started convulsing. His body fell toward the bars before he ended up sprawled out on the floor, not moving and with foam on his face. His lifeless eyes stared straight at the colonel.

  “Guards! Guards!”

  The two men rushed in, hands on their hilts. They glared at the cell before turning to the colonel. Their scrunched eyes said it all.

  “I was grilling him about the secret report when he stuffed something into his mouth.”

  “How? We searched him earlier.”

  “Not good enough.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Mistake

  Clarel's hand dropped off the edge of her bunk and touched the cold floor. Her eyes opened to an empty room. Slipping into her shoes, she stood to find the others.

  Her stomach grumbled. Clarel passed through several small rooms before entering a lit corridor. Making a couple wrong turns until the sound of people chatting drew her in the right direction, she entered a room where everyone was eating.

  “Come, join us.” Gavin waved her over to the spare seat between him and Rodrina.

  Whatever they were eating smelled great.

  “You’ll get today's breakfast serving over there.” Gavin pointed at a counter by the wall.

  Clarel approached and someone from behind handed her a tray.

  “Coffee?” the man asked.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  He held a cup under a strange, tall machine and pushed a button. It dispensed piping hot liquid. He handed it to her, and she went back to her seat.

  She lifted the top off the tray. The smell of steaming eggs filled her nostrils. Clarel’s eyes widened as she grabbed her fork and gobbled them up.

  A smile appeared on Gavin's face. “Hungry?”

  Clarel stopped mid-bite, now aware of her table companions staring.

  “Sorry,” she said through a mouthful of food.

  “Don't worry. We were just as hungry.” Rodrina chuckled. “Enjoy them while you can. It's your only serving.”

  The embarrassment faded as she finished every morsel.

  Rodrina pointed to the tray return.

  Clarel did so and returned to sip on her cooled down coffee. “I haven’t eaten like that since evacuating the palace.”

  “I just can't believe those weren't real eggs,” remarked another Undergrounder seated at the table.

  “Not real?” Clarel scrunched her eyes.

  “Do you think this place, so deep in the tunnels, has access to eggs and sausage?” Gavin asked. “They have a facility to grow hydroponic foods. They have clearly crafted some amazing recipes with plants and yeast.”

  “You're kidding, right?” Was this some kind of prank?

  “I'm serious.” Gavin took a sip of his steaming coffee. “I devoured my own. When one of their people greeted us, I asked about the food. She explained their synthetic food production facilities. Even offered me a tour, pending the director’s approval. Never knew there was so much down here.”

  “It’s obvious why they’ve kept it a secret.” Rodrina pointed at Gavin, her eyebrows raised. “If word got out, we would pale in comparison as a military target.”

  Clarel stared at h
er coffee, taking careful sips.

  “I know what you're thinking.” Gavin pointed at her cup. “That is real. They have sunrooms which create the perfect conditions to grow coffee beans, but cream and sugar are luxury items.”

  “You're enjoying this aren't you?” Clarel glared at him. “Real or not, that was delicious. Beats those dreadful rations.”

  “Break time is over. The director wants to meet in one hour. We need to make sure everyone is up and ready.” Gavin motioned at one of his people to carry out that order.

  “So, what is next?” Clarel stood to turn in her cup.

  “I'm not sure, but I am interested in what these people have to say. They could have denied us entrance, but it appears Glantham’s name carries some amount of credibility.” Gavin leaned in, and in a softer voice, said, “I'm not sure what we've stumbled into or how much they'll show us. It's one thing to put us up for the night, but are these potential allies?”

  “I hope so. Imagine what we could do with this type of support.” Clarel kept her voice low as well.

  “Agreed.” Gavin leaned back in his seat.

  A handful of people staggered into the mess hall, and the subject of breakfast and coffee repeated. This time, Clarel enjoyed springing the news about the source. Pointing it out mid-bite was the funniest part.

  An hour later, everyone convened in a conference room containing a giant table and half a dozen chairs. There was no sight of the woman they had spoken to the night before.

  Gavin sat in a seat and gestured for Clarel to take the one next to him.

  She pointed her thumb to the back of the room, but Gavin shook his head. She slumped in the one he had picked.

  Rodrina sat next to her, and the sergeant took up a seat at the far end of the table. Everyone else stood in the back, cramped.

  The tall woman with red hair that had first welcomed them entered.

  “I am Director Fiona. I hope everyone enjoyed their breakfast.” Her voice carried a courteous tone. She strode to the front of the room and took a seat.

  Clarel relaxed.

  “Indeed, Director. We are grateful for the food and shelter you have offered,” Gavin said.

  “I hope you enjoy our facility and are willing to contribute your share of work, because I'm afraid we can't let you leave. Ever.”

  Clarel’s eyes opened wide, and her jaw dropped upon hearing those words.

  The smile on Gavin's face vanished. “Excuse me?” He rose.

  Grumbling rippled throughout the room.

  “You have discovered us.” The director’s matter-of-fact tone was annoying. “Can you imagine if Melicose learned of us should any of you be captured?”

  “He would consider this the greatest military target ever known and probably send every soldier he had,” Rodrina replied with her flat, lecturing voice.

  Gavin’s eyes flashed at her.

  Rodrina shrugged.

  Clarel’s breath caught in her throat. Was this happening?

  “Precisely. Hence, we cannot let you leave.” The director’s words were clipped.

  Gavin’s head turned back. “Wait a second. You know Glantham. He has been here, and yet you didn't restrict him.”

  “Glantham is—well—Glantham. I don't think this is the same situation. Can you in earnest promise that none of your people are at risk of being captured and tortured?” The director leaned back in her chair, propped up on one elbow, and stared at Gavin.

  Glantham is Glantham. Clarel understood that. She was sure everyone else did, too. The director’s words filled her with a flash of inspiration.

  “Director, I understand your need to maintain secrecy. If I was in your place, I would feel the same. But perhaps I can offer a compromise.” Raised in the royal courts, Clarel remembered her father speaking with elegance. She turned on as much diplomatic charm as she could muster. “Maybe you’re not aware, but none of us knew the route except Gavin. Why not keep him, but let the rest of us leave? And given enough time, perhaps you may come to appreciate Gavin’s talents as much as Glantham’s.”

  Glantham had gotten out. How and at what cost, she didn’t know. It was a big gamble, but her father had once said that victories were never won on petty shots.

  The corners of Rodrina’s face turned up.

  The director glared at Clarel and thumped her fingers on the table.

  The pause in verbal response filled Clarel with warmth.

  “Did you not all travel here? How can we be sure only Gavin knows the location?” The director’s eyes didn’t flinch.

  Clarel stared back, not dodging the women’s dark visage. This type of response was expected. Perfect.

  “Ma'am, what are we, ten levels below the surface?” Clarel raised her brows.

  “More like eighteen,” Director Fiona shot back.

  “In other words, quite deep. Deeper than I've ever been.” Clarel brushed her fingers against herself. “With all the twists and turns in pitch black, there is no way I could repeat it. Gavin could write it down, and I’d still get lost.” She glanced at the rest of her troop. “It was so hasty, I doubt our best people caught every single turn.”

  Director Fiona stared without blinking.

  Clarel kept her eyes trained on the director, her smile soft; though she held back a tidal wave of nervousness. Still, she matched the director's stare without letting her eyes drop.

  “Perhaps we can revisit this. For now, my decision stands. I’ll assign a team to help you move to more permanent quarters. If you'll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.” With that, the director rose along with her aide and left without even a handshake.

  Clarel let out a big breath and laid her hands flat on the table. When she lifted her head, Rodrina and Gavin were staring.

  “What just happened?” Gavin glanced at the door, his eyes scrunched.

  “Clarel showed that we aren't a bunch of fly-by-night hooligans looking for a quick bite. She gave them a taste of political acumen that could serve both their needs and ours.” Rodrina’s mouth was spread wide.

  “But leaving me behind?” Gavin’s focus shifted to Clarel.

  “I wouldn’t forsake you. Simply put, if one of us can leave, others can too.”

  Gavin’s features relaxed.

  “I pointed out things may not be as absolute as she thinks, and I showed that we can maneuver politics as well.”

  Rodrina squeezed her hand.

  “Good job.” Gavin winked before he stood to address the others. “For the time being, it looks like we are staying put. Sergeant, help everyone follow the Techs as they assign us quarters. Rest assured, while we may be stuck here for the moment, we will continue to negotiate a way out.”

  Clarel didn’t know how effective Gavin’s words would be, but for now they would have to do.

  Westing’s plan might work. It might not.

  But this was survival, and he would do whatever it took. The only thing ahead was a miserable life. They would pick up more supplies and more troops. The odds of them needing someone to guide them back through the tunnels were unavoidable. And that someone was him—if they let him live.

  He was struck with a new idea. No one back at Base would ever know about it, but that didn’t matter. When he had escaped the fall of the crown, hanging around would have been suicide. Today was no different.

  Ever since Melicose’s men had invaded the Undergrounders’ hideout, the slim hope he’d had was gone. Even now, they were closing in on Rat’s Nest. It was now or never.

  “We're almost there. See that portal up ahead? Just step through and climb a ladder to the surface.” He took several long strides.

  Until now, Westing had been just a few paces ahead. He quickened his steps, building up distance and speed before ducking through the portal.

  Entering Rat's Nest, Westing leapt up to the hand railing on the right rather than the immediate ladder, hoping to gain a head start. He got a hold despite its odd angle.

  The walking boots behind him sw
itched to running. The first soldier reached the lip of the hatch, tried to stop, and fell. He crashed into the curving walls twenty feet down, rolled to the bottom, and didn't move again.

  Swinging himself over to another ladder, Westing scrambled, making every effort to increase the distance.

  “How did he get over there?” boomed one of the soldiers.

  Westing glanced back before continuing.

  The captain and the other two soldiers stood at the portal.

  “Over there!” Tor shouted, jumping to the same spot Westing had used.

  Holding his breath, the Undergrounder prayed the captain would be met with a similar demise.

  With sweat beading up on his forehead, Westing dragged himself up the angled ladder to the spot with three exits before slipping into one.

  Clear of Rat’s Nest, he took off at full speed. Several turns later, he slowed and shifted to silent walking. Without a darklight, and unsure of where he was, the risky part of his plan came into focus.

  Echoes of stomping feet ricocheted everywhere. It wasn't deafening so much as unnerving. Westing wagered they couldn't deduce his turns, and his life depended on it. Perhaps that was why his heart thundered against his ribs. As the sounds slowed, his pulse calmed.

  Surely he could find a familiar section. Perhaps doubling back to Rat's Nest was the best route. Either way, he would find a path to the surface and leave these hideous tunnels behind. He was a survivor, living to fight another day.

  Gavin sensed dejection from all around. The grumbling as everyone moved to their permanent quarters was impossible to miss. They had packed light, so it wasn’t about moving lots of gear.

  Or maybe these were his own doubts.

  A Tech entered the hub of their new quarters. He gestured at the strange device on the wall displaying the time and explained the music it started playing as the signal for meals.

  Gavin nodded at Rodrina and Clarel and headed to the cafeteria. After grabbing another meal on a tray, he led them to a table.