by Liz Delton
“That’s Falx,” Apex growled. “I’ll handle him.”
Ember shuddered. Better Apex than me, she thought.
“Right,” she began. “When the platform is about to reach the floor of this level, we jump. Pick a Scout and put yourself right above him,” she ordered Jack and Striker. “I’ll take this one,” she pointed directly below where they stood to the hook-nosed Scout she had spotted on first glance.
“I’ll signal,” Apex offered, edging toward Falx.
“Wish I had my bow,” Striker griped as he trotted off to the left. They hadn’t wanted their ropes and harnesses to get tangled with bows.
Striker positioned himself above a squat man who was eying the wailing child across from him with a sour gaze. Jack and Apex slunk off to the right, Apex to prepare to take down the giant Scout, Falx, and Jack to stand above a greasy-haired Scout who was picking at his fingernails with the tip of a very long knife.
Ember watched for Apex’s signal, her knives gripped tightly in hand, and thought of poor Holly, left beaten and broken by these men. She crept toward the railing, readying to jump down. Suddenly Apex’s hand dropped through the air in a clear signal.
There was no time to think. She rose and vaulted over the railing, using her clenched fists to balance herself over the rail. She landed on the Scout and they crumpled in a pile.
The lift plunged into chaos. Some of the refugees clearly wanted to help, but many were busy keeping the children out of harm’s way. If any of these Scouts still had orbs on them, they were all in danger.
Ember’s right hand sailed through the air and sliced a gash on the Scout’s forearm, which he had raised to block the attack. His other arm came out of nowhere and landed a blow right in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
She gasped and collapsed in half, then reached out with both knives and aimed the blades just above the man’s knees. He cried out in pain, but just as suddenly Ember felt her scalp burn as he yanked her up by the hair.
The lift juddered to a bone-shaking stop, then immediately started again.
She took advantage of the Scout’s distraction, and aimed the pummel of her dagger at his temple with as much force as she had. He sagged to the ground, dazed.
Someone grabbed Ember by the shoulder, and she spun, raising her knives.
One of the refugees had grabbed her; he had a gash across his bald head, and his eyes were wide in his weathered face. He sputtered, “He can’t hold him off much longer!”
She followed the man’s pointing finger to see Falx nearly overpowering Apex, who had his back to the lever. Apex was far too busy to stop the lift again. The Scout that Jack had been fighting had come to Falx’s aid, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. Striker was working up a sweat dodging the quick jabs of his own opponent in the far corner.
She turned back to the refugee, and wordlessly they put their hands on the dazed Scout and readied to raise him over the lift railing—but they found the sides of the lift blocked by the floor of the next level. Slowly they ascended, and the seconds it took seemed to yawn on for years.
Finally, the lift cleared the railing of the next level and they quickly pushed the Scout off. He groaned as he fell onto the hard stone. Only three more to go.
Ember fought her way through the confusion of the crowd, though it wasn’t hard. Most of the children had wisely been gathered at the center, surrounded by a ring of adults, keeping them safe from the violence at the edges.
Yet again, Ember and everyone on the platform were jolted by the sudden halt of the lift.
The platform was still when she reached the corner where Apex was fighting off the two Scouts, and at the same moment, Jack reappeared. He looked fairly ruffled, but otherwise unhurt.
With a lack of hesitancy that would have impressed any fighter, Jack smacked his Scout on the back with the flat of his knife, while reaching back for the punch that he landed heavily on the Scout’s greasy face when he turned. The Scout roared, and the two were at it again. The nearby refugees quickly stumbled out of their way.
Falx was forcing Apex to his knees, his sword pressing down on Apex’s long knife just in front of his face.
Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, Ember advanced on the Scout and jabbed her knife deep into his right thigh, the closest thing she could reach with any force.
He roared in pain and whipped around, one hand still on the sword pressing against Apex, the other—
She was blinded by the pain as his meaty hand smacked her right across the face, throwing her to the floor.
The knife she had stuck in his thigh clattered to the floor. Then the lift gears ground to life.
Apex must have fallen, Ember thought groggily as she tried to lift herself off of the now-shaking floor. Her eyes still blurry, she tried to locate the man, and saw his dark outline slumped on the floor before the control panel.
Seeing brave and strong Apex crumpled so innocently on the floor was like a bucket of ice water splashed across her face.
She needed to get up.
Forcing her eyes to focus, she reached out to grab the bloody knife that Falx had discarded.
But too late, a booted foot slammed down onto her hand, and she knew instantly that it was broken.
A howl escaped her as the foot released, and she cradled the hand to her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes and a hand slapped the second knife from her grip.
For the second time, she was yanked up by her hair, and her eyes met those of the hook-nosed Scout she had fought earlier, who must have gotten back onto the lift when it stopped.
She took a gulp of air, trying to swallow past the pain in her hand, which was radiating out to every nerve in her body.
Apex was no longer leaning against the control panel, and Ember didn’t see him anywhere.
Though she was already incapacitated by her broken hand, and the grip on her hair, the Scout holding her punched her hard in the stomach. Her convulsive reaction forward made hair rip from her scalp in the man’s grip.
“Oy, Falx!” he called. The lead Scout looked up momentarily before striking Jack once more. A rivulet of blood trickled down her forehead into her eyes, blurring her vision.
“This here’s the red-headed leader we been looking for!” the man called, waving the hand that held Ember by her hair. She whimpered involuntarily as he did so.
In the moment it took Falx to look up and register this fact, Apex reappeared, sailing from the level above, an axe aimed at Falx.
Unfortunately, the Scout holding her saw the same thing, and gasped, causing Falx to turn. Apex caught him in the shoulder, but the blow was deep, bringing the murderous Scout to his knees all the same. In the same moment, Striker and Jack managed to overpower the other Scouts left fighting, and dart for the controls.
Falx had fallen to his knees, clutching his bloody shoulder. The other Scout ran to help him up, letting Ember fall to the ground to clutch at her broken hand. Apex, Striker and Jack clustered around the control panel, weapons at the ready.
But, too late, Ember spotted that they had left the refugees defenseless. The hook-nosed Scout reached forward to yank a small girl from the crowd, earning a wrenching scream from her mother.
Ember’s blood turned to fire as the Scout drew his knife to the girl’s throat. She looked back at Apex, who was clutching his side, his other hand on the lever.
A call from above made Ember’s head spin. Just as she was thinking their raid couldn’t have been going any worse, she spotted more Scouts on the higher levels of the open lift. And they had seen the trouble below.
She locked eyes again with Apex, and they shared a fleeting moment of understanding. He threw the lever back, and the lift shuddered to a start. They were going down.
Ember turned back to the Scout holding the little girl. He and Falx were backing toward the edge, looking down at the floor below now appearing to rise to meet the platform.
“No!” cried Ember, as the man jumped, clutching the girl with o
ne massive arm around her torso, knife extended toward the rebels on the platform. Falx stumbled off after him, and craned his neck upward, a horrible grin visible under his bushy beard.
Falx no doubt thought that going down would only trap them further, but he didn’t know about the rebels’ original plan.
But they had the girl.
Ember called to the others, “Take them down below-mine. I’ll get out another way.”
“But—” Striker started.
“Just get them out!” she shouted.
She bent to try and pick up both of her knives with her uninjured left hand, but Apex grabbed one for her, and handed it over after she put the first one back in her boot.
“Let’s go.”
Apex picked up Falx’s abandoned sword, and they both looked down to watch the next level slowly approach. With one last look at Striker and Jack giving instructions to the refugees, Ember hoisted herself over the platform railing with her good hand, and landed on the stone floor by the stairs.
“This way,” Ember pointed, and they raced up the stairs to get back on the same level the Scouts had disappeared on. She hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her uninjured hand, and cradled her right hand to her chest as she ran. Every nerve in her right arm cried out in pain at the slightest jostling.
“Where do you think they’re going?” she asked, as they turned a corner that was smeared with blood at shoulder height—shoulder height for enormous mountain men, Ember thought, the red blotch high over her own head.
“Just to get away from us, I think,” Apex suggested as they hurtled down the corridor. “Falx thinks we’re good and trapped, just wants to stay in one piece until more of his men find him.”
They began to slow their pace, to listen for any sound of the retreating Scouts, or the girl. Finally, they heard something as they turned a corner near the cavern they had found Holly in.
“Shut it, will you?” a harsh mountain voice rasped.
The girl sniffed, but a little whimper escaped her. Then they heard a sharp slap, followed by an even louder whimper.
“That’s it,” Apex spat.
He leapt out around the corner, Ember hastening to follow, and after a second’s hesitation, he hurled his knife through the air toward the three people down the shadowy hall.
The time it took to sail through the air was barely enough time for Ember to fear for the girl’s life—and then it sunk into the hook-nosed Scout’s chest with a sickening thump.
He dropped to his knees, looking at the knife in his chest in awe, as if wondering how it had suddenly sprouted there, and then he fell forward with a heavy finality.
The little girl screamed. Ember rushed forward, not even afraid of Falx at the moment. She couldn’t leave that girl there, next to the dead man.
Just as she ran forward, Apex charged and tackled Falx to the ground, but it didn’t seem to take much effort—the Scout had lost a lot of blood.
Falx merely lay there, a large dark pool growing on the stone underneath his shoulder. Ember wasn’t even sure if he was dead, or just unconscious. She decided she didn’t care.
She pulled the little girl further away from the fallen Scouts, deeper into the tunnel, clutching the girl with her good hand. Just as she did, echoing calls rang out from the direction they had come. Ember flung her head back in disbelief.
Grudgingly they stood, and looked around for a moment, eyes blank yet searching—as if an idea for survival might be laying on the floor of the tunnel.
“The ropes,” Apex said simply.
Ember nodded, glad Apex’s brain was working better than hers, then bent down, “What’s your name?” she asked the girl quickly.
“Laurel,” she whispered, tears still streaming from her eyes. She couldn’t have been more than six.
Ember reached down and pulled the girl into a one-armed hug, her broken hand hovering off to the side.
“It’s going to be okay, Laurel,” she whispered into the girl’s hair. “I want you to climb up on my friend Apex’s back, okay? So we can get you back to your family. Can you do that?” she asked in a fast whisper.
Laurel bobbed her head, and had to crane her neck to meet Apex’s face. He swung Laurel onto his back, and immediately began to run. Ember followed, trying to keep her footfalls light to see if she could figure out how far away the approaching Scouts were, but the mine was full of echoes and howling wind.
“Check the map, will you?” Apex muttered after a few minutes of quiet running.
She pulled it out of her pocket awkwardly with her left hand. They stopped, and she held it up so he could see, seconds ticking by as they tried to figure out where they were.
“Do you think that leads to the airway?” she jerked her head to the left, indicating the next passage.
“It’s got to,” he said. Ember wondered if it was hope or surety behind those words. She nodded, and they ran.
Her hand was throbbing so painfully by the time they spotted the airway that she wasn’t sure if she would be any use trying to rappel down the cliff. She tried to hold it level with her heart, which seemed to make it hurt less.
After depositing Laurel into the airway, Apex helped Ember climb up, and they trod down the angled stone passage until they reached the bottom. But for a tiny gasp when they entered the airway, Laurel was silent the entire way.
Three harnesses remained, a sight that cleared Ember’s mind a little. Flint and Holly got out, then.
Apex spent several minutes fiddling with one of the harnesses, while Ember drummed the fingers of her good hand silently on her thigh. She desperately wondered if Striker and Jack had managed to get the rebels below the mine—where they could escape through the flooded tunnels—or, if the Scouts had all followed Apex and Ember, and would soon be catching up...
Finally, Apex finished, and began to fit the adjusted harness around Laurel. Then he secured the girl to his own harness, with the newly-adjusted straps around his shoulders.
Ember had only gotten her harness halfway on with the use of one hand, so Apex helped her with the rest, quickly tightening the straps around her thighs and waist. He grabbed two ropes from the edge and made quick work of attaching them to their respective harnesses.
With a last look up the airway, Apex reached down to cut the third rope. It silently disappeared into the dark rift.
For the second time in her life, Ember took hold of the rope and edged toward the cliff, her back to the rift. Her feet met the edge of the stone and she stopped, heels already off the edge, with the rope gripped firmly in her good left hand.
With every muscle resisting, she forced herself to sit back in her harness, just like Apex had taught her, and tipped back over the edge.
Now she stood horizontally, feet pushing against the cliff, the straps of her harness holding her tight.
She wouldn’t be able to brake with her broken right hand, but that didn’t concern her as much as it might have once done.
Laurel was wide-eyed and silent against Apex’s chest as he leaned off the edge to join Ember on the cliff face.
It almost calmed Ember to be back on the cliff, and no longer pinned down in the tunnel. A deranged chuckle escaped her as she began to rappel, letting rope through her left hand and controlling her descent by rebounding off the cliff with her feet.
The morning sun was still hidden below the horizon, but its light had begun to illuminate the cliffs. Ember’s thoughts were on the bottom of the rift: not only because she wanted to get onto flat land as quickly as possible, but because that’s where they would meet up with the others if they had made it out of the flooded tunnels below the mine.
She secretly hoped the refugees and the other rebels were watching her and Apex rappelling in the dim light—because it would mean that they had made it out safely.
Slowly the rift grew brighter and brighter, and Ember’s tension eased at the apparent lack of pursuers. About halfway through their descent, Apex called, “Look. Down.”
Ember only just caught the sight of a green flame dying at the bottom of the rift. A moment later they heard a whooping call from far above.
Their comrades at the top had gotten the message, too. They had indeed all made it out. Ember just hoped that next time, they could say the same.
Seven
Sylvia sat with her back against a tree in the moonlit forest while her team of Defenders took some well-deserved rest. They were sprawled in a loose circle atop the pine-needle carpet, sleeping heavily thanks to the practice they had endured throughout the day.
She was happy to be paired with Vince and Amelia’s teams for this test journey. Now they were focusing on long-term survival in the wilds, which they thought likely in the event of all-out war with Skycity. Most of the Defenders had never even been outside of the treewall before the war, let alone lived in the wilds for weeks at a time. This campaign wouldn’t be that long, but it was a start.
She was keeping watch with Charlie Beech, a woodworker from Meadowcity, who was brave but still unskilled in the dangers of the wilds. All of the new recruits were paired with a veteran for night watches, ensuring that those who slept would be properly guarded, and those who guarded would learn proper vigilance.
Charlie stood with his back to Sylvia and the others, surveying the dark woods. Sylvia sat on a large flat stone that bordered their camp, but turned back to check on Charlie and the others every so often.
Meanwhile, she used the time to run through her staple maneuvers with the drone, this time using her tiny portable looking-glass to watch. It was much easier this way. Watching on the screen of the looking-glass instead of inside her head required much less concentration.
The silver datastrands at her wrist sparkled against the contrasting black threads as she used her right hand to send another command to the drone. The drone was no more than a shadow as it moved further away from the camp. The delicate mechanical eyes showed her more trees illuminated by the silver moon, their shadows falling across the forest floor like swathes of black paint. By instinct, she reached into her consciousness to gauge the strength of her connection between her earlink and drone. Still strong.
