“We fall back to the way station,” Flynn said. “There’s a conduit somewhere down below.”
“Is there?” Zella asked suspiciously, agitated at not having been told sooner.
Her tone seemed to aggravate the wound at Flynn’s side, and he shuddered. “There is.”
“Guess we’re hittin’ reverse,” Jean concluded, approaching the door to the controls. It was locked, but that was only a fleeting obstacle for her. She pressed both palms to it, until the material warped from the vibrations of her hands, and she was able to—with some force—push it open the rest of the way.
After she squeezed through the opening, Zaja heard Jean order the operator to turn the train around. His reply was unintelligible —“VttYf a##MDt lliRRVa nk?”—so Jean struck him out.
“She does realize I could have spoken to him, yes?” Zella asked with dismay.
“What’s done is done,” Chari sighed.
Inside, they were met by a broad and complicated control panel, composed of a medley of holographic switches and displays. Mack approached it and studied it before commenting, “Too bad Lersy didn’t stick with us.”
“Yeah, too fuckin’ bad,” Jean agreed sarcastically. “Shame she turned out to be a goddamn traitor.”
Outwardly, Zaja gave a hurried nod, but privately, she sympathized with Leria. She was never one of us to begin with. Zaja joined Mack, who was poking through the cabinets below the panel. “Is there a user’s manual or something?”
“Look, I’m a guy!” Mack protested. “I don’t need to read a thing to know how a thing works! I just do things and it does its things! That’s my thing!”
Behind her, she heard Chari grunt in pain, and knew that she was mending Flynn’s injury, and suffering the pain he felt as a result. She had seen Chari work before, had heard her scream in agony once fixing an injury that should have killed Mack, and pitied her for the role. When it was over, Flynn returned Zaja’s bloodied scarf.
“I didn’t mean to … bleed so much on it,” he apologized.
Zaja had found a tablet with the train’s schematics, and was studying it as she absentmindedly draped the scarf over her shoulders. As she tried to make sense of what she was looking at, the lights dimmed—a product of Mack’s fervent button-mashing.
“No one’s on our tail yet,” Jean said from the door.
“I’m of little use here,” Poe stated. “I’ll hold the next passage while you sort this mess out.”
Poe stepped out and Jean followed suit. Chari joined Mack, surveying the console while he pressed buttons. The train started to advance, but they swiftly quashed whatever process Mack had initiated, and it remained halted over the gentle ocean.
“I’m an idiot and a fool for trusting you,” Zella growled.
“What I did won’t work twice,” Flynn told her.
“Should I believe it was a feint even the first time?” she demanded. “You let me go the moment Leria stabbed you. Were you serious, you would have twisted me into her blade as a shield. They know now you’re bluffing. So yes, you’re right: the next time, you would have to kill me.”
Zaja remained silent while Flynn smoothed things over. The more he talked, the more even Zaja began to believe it was all just some clever ploy. Zella, who had been tugging at her own hair by the fistful, finally calmed enough to relax her grip.
“It’s not what you did or why you did it that infuriates me, Flynn,” she told him. “It’s that every side of this conflict has assured me that my only use in it all is to die. Whether in sacrifice for my father’s freedom or as a victim to keep his worshippers from getting what they want, all I’m ever told is that I have no other intrinsic value!”
Flynn was at a loss for words. Zaja kept silent, but Chari leaned in and quietly whispered to Mack. “Let’s try this.”
Still, nothing.
“It feels like there is no solution for you,” Flynn softly conceded. “You said you had made peace with dying.”
“When I thought I had no other choice!” Zella replied. “Should I return to Terrias, should I give my father the freedom my lifeblood can grant, it must be of my own volition. Not for being dragged back, kicking and screaming. Not again.”
On a lark, Zaja got to her feet, found a particular knob she’d identified, and pulled it. The train, like their fortunes, began to reverse.
*
Leria had taken a seat, crossed her arms over her belly, and tried to keep quiet. When the train started running in reverse, the blood-tipped pole rolled, stopping against her shoes. She tried not to look down, but her eyes fluttered to it momentarily.
Crescen and his companion were bickering. The other man had ripped off his coverings, and like Crescen, it seemed he was all skin. At times, Leria felt his hostile gaze on her, like he blamed her for the mess that had just transpired. He was gaunt and, unless Leria was mistaken, had three small horns in a triangular pattern at the edges of his forehead. This particular trait seemed less strange considering her recent company, but unusual just the same.
The others who had boarded the train were regrouping. They were armed with clubs and spears, and a few with small, illegal firearms. They had come prepared, but had not planned on the mess that Mack and his friends had made of them, and now frantically tended their wounded. There had been more blood than Leria could have predicted.
The makeshift spear rolled, before settling against her foot again.
“I told you—warned you—that he would not give way so easily,” the other swore to Crescen. “We should have ambushed them—capturing girl and Guardian alike—and relished such victory!”
“Such craven tactics are not our way,” Crescen replied. He sounded pained, as though he wished they could resort to such methods. “And you saw how bad things went the moment the proverbial shot was fired. Think you an ambush would have gone any better?”
Leria stared down at the pole. Flynn’s blood stickied its twisted metal tip, and she wondered how much it had hurt. Had she wanted stage and acceptance so desperately as to turn to this? Thinking back, she had never truly considered the implications of Crescen’s offer; meeting people like Zaja and Flynn validated the idea of another world beyond her own, and she had signed on without considering the cost.
Crescen’s companion calmed. “You should have known. We both should have known.”
Leria wondered why even now it was this side that was so adamant to capture their target without anyone getting hurt.
“Even if we could have stalled them on this car,” Crescen continued, “I had reinforcements waiting at the next station to lock the area down.”
“An advantage which has been stripped from us,” his counterpart replied. “Those wretches have no hope to escape. Unless…”
“They know of an exit along this route that we do not,” Crescen realized. “If we’re not careful, they could end up anywhere.”
No one had told Leria everything, but she had chosen ignorance, wanting not to know more than was needed to get where she wanted to be. Now she might never see Mack again, for however he’d come to Breth, he would leave the same way. Crescen had consoled her after the chaos, assuring her that her passage to Terrias was guaranteed. She had earned her place.
Casually, Leria used one foot to slide the makeshift spear beneath her shoes, locking it in place. It wasn’t long before she glanced back through the window, and noticed they were passing back by the last way station. The train continued on and, just as the station began to vanish on the horizon, it stopped and advanced again, slowing a little too late before halting beyond the station once more. It reversed again.
“…What are those imbeciles doing?”
Crescen shrugged in response.
Leria bent down and lifted her spear once more, approaching Crescen as he spoke to his subordinates.
“Ensure the wounded are comfortable, spare whomever is needed for their safety and health. We still command superior numbers throughout this train, and all must be prepared for the mom
ent it stops. They’ll likely lock down the doors if they can manage, so prepare alternate exits. We don’t know the location of the rift they gambit for, but chances are they don’t either. Allow them no chance to find it.”
Leria’s grip on her weapon tightened. Once the other walked away, she approached Crescen, who looked surprised to see her. Likely he expected her to sit quietly while the matter was sorted out. She didn’t want to be a victim of circumstance, not anymore.
“Tell me how to help.”
*
It was an imperfect parking job, but Jean liked it better that way. Half the train was stopped past the way station’s edge, but it was the half that held Crescen, Leria, and everyone else that had tried to push them into a corner. No sooner were they parked than Flynn was hurrying them onto the platform, in search of a stairway or ladder that might lead below.
“That took entirely too long,” Poe muttered.
“Sixteenth time’s the charm, right?” Mack asked.
They were exposed, and the Reahv’li were in pursuit like a scurry of rats, pouring out of every window, door, and rooftop hatch they’d managed to pry open in the nearer cars. Jean expected a few were lying low after the mess they’d made, but she had no idea just how many had been sent after them. Still inside and pressing to escape, Leria carried the same pole she’d struck Flynn with. Jean spat at the ground upon seeing her.
“Jean, safe passage has been located!” a voice called.
Chari beckoned from a double door at the far side of the station, as Poe used his blades to pry them open. Gradually, they gave way, until the others were able to grip the doors and force them apart. Jean didn’t run to help, for her attention was drawn by someone pounding on the train’s roof and barking orders. “There, to the far back! Let none escape, but remember: Lord Renivar’s daughter is paramount!”
Jean’s legs locked in place, and she turned sharply around. Bowing her head, she gritted her teeth. “Fucker.” She unhooked her mace from her belt, and the scar on her right arm flared with the memory of Arronel thrusting a spear through it.
“Jeannie! Jeannie, where are ya goin’?!” Mack had caught up with her and was desperately tugging at her arm.
“Be with ya in five,” was all she muttered before shrugging Mack off. She marched with a vicious stride and smashed down those few Reahv’li foolish enough to attack her. Arronel saw her from atop the train and sneered as he hopped down, drawing a spear.
“You have forfeited escape!” Arronel warned. “And with it, your life!”
There was no more talk as the two came close, and he raised his weapon with a battle cry, about to bring it down on her. Yet his scream turned to a wounded grunt when Jean bull-rushed him, running under the stroke of his spear and ramming her shoulder into his gut. Stunning Arronel wasn’t near enough, and Jean didn’t let up as both of them tumbled onto the rails in front of the train.
There was more room below than Jean had anticipated—the space under the rail was hollow, cluttered with support beams and plenty of open space beneath them. Arronel had tumbled below her, catching onto one such beam, and Jean could have tried to climb out then and catch up with her friends. But she couldn’t look away as he dangled below, waiting for an opportune moment to stab her in the leg.
“You hate me, don’t you? Come down. Finish the job.”
“It ain’t about hate, buddy,” Jean replied as she dropped in, finding her footing several feet from him. The train was now directly above, and showed signs of starting up again. “I just wanna smash yer fuckin’ face in.”
Jean lunged at Arronel, hoping to bury the spikes of her mace on the first try. He deflected and returned the strike, and she batted it away. Yet he was better prepared, and tried to turn it around, forcing her back several times before rearing the point of his weapon at her feet. Jean slipped, banging her knee before sliding off, catching herself as her chin struck the steel beam. As she struggled to hold on, Arronel wasted no time going for the kill, realizing only too late that Jean’s palms were both wrapped tightly to the source of their footing.
The steel beam reverberated, and both fell, tumbling further into the way station. It’d have been enough if it happened once, but when they landed deeper in, any notion of simply gaining the upper hand had vanished. Jean’s anger—her unresolved fury at her injuries, at her friends and foes alike—poured into this moment. She wanted to hurt the people around her and couldn’t, so she placed it all on Arronel and the impersonal injury he’d dealt her. Arronel, too, was easily goaded and lost all perspective of the larger mission as he sank in Jean’s bloodlust, and they tumbled so deep that the night sky all but vanished.
*
Every corner was a blind turn, and more than once they had come around one only to meet their pursuers, whose numbers threatened like a raging river. Poe had anticipated stairs and slopes—a straight shot to the bottom—but the tunnels beneath the way station were a labyrinth, lit by pallid and fading bulbs. When they came to a dead end, it was such a rude surprise that Poe nearly collided with the wall before catching himself. The window before him showed only the murky ocean depths, the water crushing and cold.
“We’ll … need to turn back,” Chari stated between heavy breaths. “We are cornered here.”
Everyone was trying to catch their breath from the frantic pursuit. As Poe leaned against the wall, sick from the cold air against his sweat-beaded skin, he noticed Zaja examining the side wall. There was a discoloration between one part and the other; a line in the concrete clearly divided the two pieces.
“There was a way through, once,” Zaja confirmed, calming.
“Jeannie could get it—”
“Jean has abandoned us,” Poe snapped. “Do not expect her to return.”
Poe did not give Mack time to protest, stalking several paces in the direction from which they had come. They are coming. He could not be the only one who realized this.
“Are we by chance any nearer to our egress?” Chari inquired of Flynn. “Every level we descend, it seems we are yet no closer.”
Flynn was silent first. “It’s deep,” he finally replied, and left it at that.
The Dark Sword weighed heavily on Poe’s lower back. It had been lighter once, and in truth, the difference now was subtle. But the blade had previously been as much a part of him as his arm, and as he drew it now, he could feel the difference. Something had been done to him back on Terrias, something that weakened the connection. He would have to adjust accordingly.
“We’ll need to break through. They’ll have us pinned before we reach the juncture.”
“Agreed,” Flynn replied. They turned back the way they’d come, advancing at a steady pace, but not yet running. There was no point in wasting further energy. “Zella, our first priority is your escape. The rest of us will force an opening, and you break through, with—”
“Not with you.” Renivar’s daughter was cold and to the point.
“…with Chari,” Flynn finished, as though it were his intention all along. “Don’t try to take them all,” he added. “There’s too many. Break through and run.”
Poe didn’t respond as he drew the Searing Truth and advanced, bearing it low as he ran for the cluster of confused Reahv’li who were holding the line. With the flat of the blade, he caught the closest of them by the ankle, sweeping his victim to the ground before swiping at another soldier, burying the blade halfway through the man’s ribcage before tearing it out. In one fluid motion, he plunged the Dark Sword through the heart of the man he’d brought to the floor.
And so the butchery started.
Poe’s brutal strikes had called the other Reahv’li upon him, and he eagerly plunged his blade through one soldier’s forearm before slicing open the belly of another. As he fanned his blades in a circle, driving his attackers back with a ring of blood, he heard Chari’s rifle shots fill the air like an anthem. Poe chose a man who towered above his comrades and leapt, plunging his swords between the soldier’s shoulder bla
des and hoisting himself up amid a pitiful scream, long enough to see Chariska and Zella on the run, with several Reahv’li in pursuit.
The surrounding attackers had hardly thinned, and Poe’s victim fell to his knees in agony, dying soon after. Numerous Reahv’li soldiers overwhelmed Poe then, desperately plunging him to the floor. Two struggled to hold him in place while others fought to lock each of his limbs. It wasn’t until they tried to pry the Dark Sword from Poe’s hand that he truly rebelled, as though it was his very heart they sought to tear loose.
The two binding Poe’s legs stiffened, and he promptly twisted free. Shards of ice had blossomed through their chests like flowers, and they fell aside. Zaja was hunched behind them, gasping for breath and looking ill.
Poe couldn’t spare a moment to think about it, and found new hold of his blades as he tore his remaining captors like paper, peppering the catacombs with their blood.
“Flynn … and Mack,” Zaja told Poe as she recovered her breath. “They just drew a bunch away. We have to hurry.”
And then, despite her obvious weakness, Zaja took the lead, using the barbs of her whip to tear down one of the remaining Reahv’li. She is in no condition to flee, Poe observed as he followed her, before turning to cut away one of their regrouping assailants. Even Poe felt the chill of these depths, and he’d not forgotten the harm it could do Zaja.
Instinct told Poe to escape alone, but Zaja had shown some measure of use. Instead of commanding his own pace, he submitted to hers, and all the dangers that would follow.
*
In the greater depths of the suboceanic station, the passages began to expand considerably. Chari was certain they were nearing the foundation, and though she tried to fathom how much labor it must have taken to build all this, her imagination fell short. But then, she conceded, perhaps such feats are easily performed on Breth.
With the loss of their pursuers, hers and Zella’s desperate strides had reduced to an urgent gait. While the chambers had expanded, the lights had worsened, and cast more shadow than luminance in many places. It became difficult to tell if they’d been going in circles.
Killers, Traitors, & Runaways: Outcasts of the Worlds, Book II Page 10
