Borderlands

by Skye Melki-Wegner

  As soon as we’re inside the tunnel, I flatten myself against the wall. I can sense my friends doing likewise.

  ‘You off duty soon, Rogers?’

  The soldiers step into the chamber. Their light is so bright that I flinch and look away. After a few blinks, my pupils start to adjust. There are three soldiers. One female, two male. The woman has a thickset, muscular frame; her hand never strays from the pistol at her belt.

  ‘Yeah,’ says the younger man, who must be Rogers. ‘Can’t wait for a decent sleep. You?’

  The woman shrugs. ‘I was s’posed to go off after this shift, but Sarge reckons he wants more guards on the Pit.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  Before he reaches the magnetic seam, Rogers stops to extinguish his alchemy lamp. There is a moment of black, before a candle flares to life in the dark. I guess even soldiers can’t risk the magical rebound of untamed magnets.

  ‘Dunno,’ the woman says. ‘But ever since they stuck that boy down there, it’s been nothing but extra work. Even the goldies aren’t enough to keep an eye on him. Must be damned important, whoever he is.’

  ‘Damned stupid, if you ask me,’ says Rogers. ‘If he royals wanted me locked up, you wouldn’t catch me sneaking into their army camp.’

  The soldiers laugh. They choose another tunnel and their light fades, bobbing away into the dark. They’re chattering about something else now – food rations, I think – but my mind is too jolted to process anything except what they’ve just said.

  There’s a prisoner in the Pit. A boy. An important boy.

  A boy who tried to sneak into camp.

  ‘Lukas,’ I whisper. ‘They’ve got Lukas.’

  ‘Where’s the Pit?’ I know my voice is rising, so I force it back down into a whisper. ‘Where’s the Pit – is it near the engine room?’

  Maisy’s breathing is shallow. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Who cares?’ Radnor snaps. ‘Let him drown, I say, and good riddance to bad rubbish. You’re gonna risk your life for a spoilt little prince?’

  ‘He’s not a prince – he left that life!’

  ‘His father’s the king, are you seriously saying he’s not a pr–’

  I glare. ‘He’s saved our lives, you know. More than once.’

  ‘You left me to die because of him,’ Radnor says, his voice almost a hiss. ‘You thought a prince would be a better leader than some scruffer boy –’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I want to slap him. ‘Half this crew is made of scruffers; you think we’re going to decide a prince is better than you because of that?’ I flex my fingers, fighting to keep my temper down. ‘Radnor, we didn’t want to replace you. We thought you were dead. Lukas saved us, and he needed someone to travel with. That’s all, I swear.’

  ‘Someone to manipulate, you mean.’

  ‘No! He isn’t like that,’ I say. ‘The king wants Lukas dead as much as he wants us dead, Radnor. Don’t you get it? He’s one of us.’

  Radnor steps towards me. The tunnel is dark again now, but I can sense his movement from the sudden puff of hot breath near my face. ‘You want to save him, Danika?’ he whispers. ‘Well, that’s nice. But you know what? I say we flood these tunnels and let him drown.’

  Nobody moves. The darkness feels as thick as fleece.

  After a long pause, Teddy says, ‘Look, Radnor, I used to feel the same as you. I hated the bloke. But I reckon –’

  Radnor cuts him off. ‘You’re all against me, are you?’

  ‘We’re not against you,’ I say, ‘we’re just –’

  ‘You’re either on my side, or you’re not. I’m your crew leader. I make the calls around here.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like much of a crew,’ I say. ‘More like a dictatorship.’

  Radnor snarls. ‘If we stop the king, then I don’t give a damn what you want to call it.’

  Silence. There’s a shift in the air as Radnor moves – and suddenly his arm is around my throat. Cold metal presses against my scalp.

  A pistol.

  I freeze. ‘Radnor, don’t –’

  ‘For those of you who can’t see,’ Radnor says, louder, ‘I’ve got my gun pointed at Glynn’s head. You’re coming with me to the engine room, and we’re going to blow the place to goddamn smithereens. Got it?’

  I feel movement as someone steps towards us. ‘Radnor, you’re making a mista–’

  ‘Don’t.’ Radnor’s pistol presses harder against my scalp. I stop breathing. ‘Don’t come any closer, or I’ll pull the trigger. I swear I’ll do it.’

  There is a long pause. My lungs hurt, and I let out a slow, quiet breath. I’m hyper aware of the beating of my heart, the clenching in my fists. All those little signals that I’m still alive. For another moment, at least, my head remains intact.

  ‘All right,’ Radnor says slowly. ‘Now, follow me.’

  The next few minutes are a blur. Darkness, disorientation, terror. The fear that grabs my stomach whenever I trip in the dark. Every time I fall – when there’s that little lurch of my legs going out under me – I think: this is it, he’s shot me, my body is falling . . .

  ‘Get moving, Glynn,’ he mutters, and I stumble on.

  I know the others are behind us. I hear their urgent whispering, until Radnor tells them to shut up or he’ll blow my brains out. After that, there’s just footsteps, the huff of breath, and the chill of metal against my scalp.

  Radnor chooses our path. We always turn downwards, towards the source of the sound. The heart of the catacombs, I suppose.

  To keep myself from focusing on the touch of Radnor’s pistol, I listen to the machinery. It grows louder with every step. Clank. Clank. Clank. A whine, a growl, like an animal being slaughtered, and then the squeal of belts grinding and wheels clanging as alchemy bounces back upon itself, a perpetual loop of magic . . .

  I see light ahead.

  Radnor stops, and the others stumble to a halt. Two soldiers stand at the end of the tunnel, guarding a sharp black drop into some unknown space below. This is it. We’ll have to sneak past the guards somehow – and this will be my chance. I’ll twist away from Radnor while he’s distracted, and someone can wrestle the gun away from him, and –

  Radnor whips his pistol away from my skull. Two bangs later and it’s back, cold and hard, and the guards fall like apples from a tree. Their bodies crumple, lifeless, on the floor.

  I feel numb. ‘Radnor, you killed –’

  ‘Move it.’

  We obey. My skin tingles. As we pass the guards’ bodies, I try not to focus on the blood that pools around their heads. Their eyes are blank and staring; they glisten in the glow of their fallen lamp.

  ‘Bring the light,’ Radnor says.

  I hear a bend and rustle behind me, and the light swings up. Then we reach the hole in the floor. Teddy thrusts the lantern forward to show our way, and I see that a stone staircase descends into the dark. The machinery is so loud here that my head throbs. This must be it. The engine room.

  ‘Come on.’ Radnor gives me a shove. ‘You first.’

  I stumble down the steps, Radnor right behind me. He keeps his pistol pressed against the top of my head, so there’s no hope of making a break for it. A moment later we’re all at the bottom. The sound roars, it echoes, it crawls up my veins. My knees buckle at the weight of it. I want to double over, but I manage to catch myself – no sudden movements.

  Then Teddy’s lantern swings the room into view. My breath catches. This isn’t just a room. It’s like standing inside the mechanisms of an alchemy boat. Wheels and cogs cover the walls. Everything gleams with polished metal; it throws back the lantern light in a dizzying array of sparks. Chains rattle, levers crank. Liquids glug into pipes and vanish into funnels, then reappear at the end of their pathway to drizzle back and repeat the loop.

  Radnor shoves me forward. ‘On
your knees,’ he says.

  My heart drops. There is a terrible chill in my lower belly. I know what this position means. It’s the position they use in the Rourton town square for quick executions.

  ‘Radnor,’ Clementine says, ‘let her g–’

  ‘Knees!’ Radnor jams a kick into my calves and I buckle. I sink slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady. I won’t let him see that I’m afraid.

  ‘Hands behind your head,’ Radnor orders.

  Slowly, I raise my hands to the back of my head. Radnor presses his pistol against my neck – right where my Night tattoo begins.

  ‘Now,’ Radnor says, ‘no one has to die here. Not if you all do what I say.’

  No one speaks.

  ‘Maisy, I want you to take the lantern.’

  My stomach flips. Maybe if I kick out backwards I can trip him somehow. His bullet might still hit me, but the others could tackle him and go save Lukas before they flood the place, and –

  ‘Now,’ Radnor says, ‘open the lantern’s shutter, so you can see the flame, and –’

  I kick. There’s an oomph! of surprise behind me as my feet connect, and then my head slams against the floor. Radnor sits on top of me, swearing his head off as he presses the pistol even harder against my neck.

  ‘You filthy double-crosser, Glynn!’ He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. The pistol digs into my flesh. ‘I’m the hero here, not you. I’m the one saving Taladia from the Morrigans. If you make one more move, I’ll –’

  ‘I’ve done it,’ Maisy cuts in. There’s none of her usual shyness, her hesitance to interrupt. She sounds fast and desperate, afraid that Radnor is working himself up to pull the trigger. ‘Radnor, now what do I do?’

  He hesitates, then releases his grip on my hair. My face clunks violently down to the stone floor.

  ‘Good,’ Radnor says. ‘Teddy, take off the supply pack, and tip everything out against the wall.’

  Teddy hesitates, glancing at me.

  ‘Do it!’

  ‘All right, all right!’

  We’ve only got one pack now: one that I rescued from the Firebird. Teddy tips its contents across the floor. A few loose nuts and half a bottle of apricot syrup. A cooking pot, and the spare uniform cloaks. A box of matches. But Teddy lingers for a moment – a quick fumble of fingers – and slips a small, pilfered sack into his cloak. The lift is quick and professional: the mark of a true pickpocket.

  My magnets, I realise, still reeling from my smash against the floor. The one thing in our pack that can’t be easily replaced.

  ‘Up against the wall,’ Radnor says. ‘Right next to the machinery – that big funnel with all the juice pumping out.’

  Teddy kicks the supplies away. I try to refocus, to find a way out of this, but my head is reeling. My knees throb like hell from the impact. The room stares back at me from an odd angle: a low diagonal glimpse of our dumped possessions.

  A bonfire, just waiting to be lit.

  ‘Right. Be ready to run,’ Radnor says, but he makes no sign of moving from my back. ‘Light it up.’

  Maisy hesitates. ‘What about Danika?’

  ‘I’ll let her go once the pile’s lit. Got it?’

  ‘Why should we believe you?’ Clementine says.

  ‘Because you haven’t got any choice.’ Radnor’s fingers are in my hair again, pressing my face into the floor. ‘I don’t kill people without any reason, you know. I’m not a murderer. I’m a warrior. And all I want is to trash these tunnels.’

  ‘Lukas,’ I manage, my face pressed against the floor. ‘Just give me a chance to find him. He’s down here somewhere, he’s –’

  Radnor lifts my head by the hair, then presses it hard against the floor. ‘Shut. Up.’

  ‘I won’t let you –’

  ‘If you don’t shut up, Danika Glynn,’ he hisses, ‘then as soon as the fire’s lit, I’ll shoot every single person in this room.’

  He’s bluffing. He has to be bluffing. But then I think of the soldiers he killed for their uniforms while they slept. The guards to this room. Even Laverna, falling to the floor of our tent. Radnor isn’t afraid to shoot people – not if he thinks it’s justified.

  ‘Good,’ he says, when I don’t respond. ‘Maisy, get on with it.’

  Maisy steps forward. Her hands tremble as she holds out the lantern. Inside its glass case, a tiny flame flickers. She hesitates, then takes a few more steps towards the pile of supplies.

  And with a whoosh, the flame leaps.

  The uniforms catch first. Maisy drops the lantern and raises her hands, coaxing the fire into a roar. There is an explosion and glass shatters across the room – Radnor cries out and his blood splatters across my neck.

  I roll aside, frantic, and the gun fires. The bullet hits the floor and I kick out wildly, tripping Radnor as he tries to line up another shot. Blood pours from his face; a shard of glass from the syrup bottle has impaled his eye. He screams and clutches at his wound, which just seems to make it worse – more shrieks, more blood.

  And behind us, more fire. It roars and rises, and suddenly the wall of machinery is alight. Alchemy juice explodes from the pipes and fire ripples down the funnels and into the stone. This isn’t normal fire. It burns a toxic khaki green, then black: poisoned by acid and magic.

  Maisy waves her hands, frantically trying to bring it under control – but it’s too late. Her powers aren’t strong enough yet, and this fire is too unnatural. The air is hot. My skin feels raw. Smoke pours down my throat. I gasp and gasp for air but it just makes it worse – all I can taste is hot ash and the sickening tang of magic.

  ‘Come on!’

  Someone grabs my arm. The next thing I know, I’m being dragged towards the stone steps. It’s Clementine. I glance around, squinting through flicker and smoke – there’s Teddy beside her, and Maisy. We run. We stumble up the steps, tripping and smashing our palms upon the stone. Behind us I hear Radnor screaming as he staggers through the haze.

  ‘We have to go back!’ I gasp. ‘We can’t leave him behind – not again.’

  But then his screams cut out, and the room fills with flame. I smell burning flesh, like the stink of raw meat on a camp fire, and the odour makes my stomach turn. Beside me, I hear someone retching.

  ‘He’s gone, Danika!’ Teddy’s gasp sounds like a sob. ‘He’s gone. Come on, we’ve got to –’

  Another roar of flame, and his words are lost in the chaos. I stumble onwards. My limbs no longer feel like they belong to me. This entire thing could be a dream. Pushing, shoving, gasping for air. The stone beneath me, all around me. Flames behind me, darkness ahead. And every breath is smoke, choking, ash, screams . . .

  We’re back up in the corridor, then sprinting. I hear a distant roar now: not flames, but something deeper. Water. It’s far below us, somewhere on the lower levels of the catacombs, but it’s coming. After hundreds of years, the engine room has been destroyed. It’s time for the water to return home.

  ‘How long will it take to flood?’ Clementine says, choking.

  I shake my head, lost and dizzy in the dark. ‘I don’t know. But we’ve got to find Lukas. He’s down in the Pit, we have to find –’

  Teddy grabs my shoulder. ‘Danika, I’m sorry, but –’

  ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say it, Teddy.’

  He swallows. ‘It’s too late.’

  I wrench away from him. ‘No!’

  Someone grabs my shoulders. ‘Come on, come on!’

  And then I’m running again, stumbling into the dark. I barely know what’s happening; everything is just limbs and gasps and shadow. We take a few desperate turns upward and the smoke is gone. The air is clean. But as we charge into an open chamber I hear the gush of the water below spilling into the deeper levels of the catacombs. The tunnel network is vast, of course, with endless twists and turns. It
could take hours for the water to fill them all and reach the surface. But how far down is the Pit? How long does Lukas have before the flood consumes him?

  ‘Hide!’ Maisy gasps.

  We pile into the shadow of a nearby corridor, just as a squadron of guards sprints past. They shout, they swear, they rush for higher ground, a barrage of gleaming gold uniforms. I’ve never seen gold uniforms before; perhaps they’re some kind of special force?

  ‘. . . shouldn’t have left him – Corporal said he’s valuable . . .’

  ‘You want to drown?’

  ‘Just run, just run!’

  ‘Oh god, which way’s the –?’

  There’s a flash of gold as their uniforms catch the lantern light. And then they’re gone. I remember the other guards’ words earlier: the prisoner in the Pit was being guarded by goldies . . .

  ‘Lukas,’ I whisper. ‘They were guarding the Pit. They were guarding Lukas!’

  ‘Danika, there’s no time! The water –’

  ‘I don’t care!’

  Teddy grabs me by the shoulders. ‘Danika, those guards came from a lower level. For all you know, it’s already flooded.’ He lets out a panicked breath. ‘I don’t want to leave him, Danika, but if you go back down there you’re gonna die as well. Lukas wouldn’t want that.’

  I pull free of Teddy’s grip. I can hear the determination in his voice now. The words of a thief making a desperate gamble. He’s made up his mind about what stakes he’s willing to play, and heading down into the lower levels isn’t one of them.

  ‘All right,’ I say. ‘All right, let’s go.’

  We set off at a run, charging back up towards higher ground. But I deliberately trip and stumble a few times, and fall to the back of the group. No one speaks. The tunnel is black. There’s no sign of guards, and no way to count how many of us are here.