The Tunnel War

by Kevin George

  “If you won’t run, I won’t run,” she said. “This is my fight as much as yours.”

  Oliver opened his mouth to argue but didn’t utter a word before hearing the first clash of weapons and the first screams of rage. The two sides crashed into each other, pinned so closely together that few fighters could properly brandish their weapons. Among the chaos of pushing bodies, Oliver spotted Zander giving up trying to calm the situation. The old man had no weapon and retreated among his forces, the illness testers close behind him. Ryo and his two guardsmen were also easy to pick out, the backs of their heads seen bobbing through the crowd of One guards, hurrying away while the previous royal guardsmen pushed forward.

  Aytyn attacked with ferocity, the front line of One guards falling at his hands, the lack of space no detriment to his ability to kill. Oliver no longer wondered why King Edmond had kept Aytyn at his side for so many years; Oliver also no longer wondered to which side Aytyn was now loyal. Grunts and thuds, screams of anger and pain, fighters from both sides falling. Oliver knew he could stay back and stay safe for now, but adrenaline surged through him and his years of fight training—training he hadn’t thought about during the last six months—suddenly came back to him.

  I’ll show the queen we won’t be pushed aside so easily, Oliver thought, reaching the first of the One guards, nearly tripping over bodies of the dead and wounded already littering the tunnel floor. Even if I have to fight my way through everyone here, I will take control of One and run the entire city the same way we’ve been running The Third and Fifth.

  A One guard swiped at him with a spear, but Oliver stepped aside and ducked, the weapon’s sharpened point missing his face by inches. The guard’s body turned, just off balance enough to expose the side of his torso. Oliver lunged at the man but stopped, unable to bring himself to kill a man guilty of nothing more than following orders of a queen threatening his family. Instead, Oliver twisted his body and swung the spear like a club, connecting the hilt to the side of the guard’s head, instantly knocking him cold.

  Before he could look for his next target, Emma pushed past him with her own spear, which she plunged into the unconscious guard’s heart. She pulled the spear out of the dead guard, spraying blood on the floor around her, not a hint of remorse on her face. Oliver stared at her, stunned by her ruthlessness, but didn’t have time to react further when he spotted a large form pushing through the crowd, headed straight for them.

  Aytyn’s massive form crashed through a One guard and a Thirder entangled in battle, both of them sprawling to the floor in a crumple. The large guardsman wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, lifting her off the floor with ease, before pushing Oliver back. He crashed into several other Thirders but watched a spear speed past where he’d just been standing, impaling a Thirder behind them. With Emma squirming in his grasp, Aytyn grabbed Oliver’s arm and dragged them away from the fighting.

  “I should be leading!” Oliver yelled. “I command you to release me!”

  Aytyn shook his head. “You need to lead these people for a long time to come, not just now,” he said.

  A pair of One guards broke through the ranks, killing several Thirders in the process, and headed straight for Emma and Oliver. Aytyn spotted the trouble at once and pushed the married couple aside, attacking and killing the first of the One guards that got too close. But his spear became lodged in the chest cavity of a One guard, leaving him exposed long enough for another guard to rush at him from behind. Aytyn spun and raised his arm toward the spear slashing toward his head. Oliver interceded, parrying the guard’s weapon so it missed Aytyn, giving the guardsman enough time to pull his own spear free and kill the guard.

  “I can fight,” Oliver told Aytyn. “Unlike most of the Thirders, I’ve had years of training.”

  “They can learn to fight,” Aytyn said. “They can’t learn to be a Jonas.”

  “He’s right,” Emma said with a frown. “We don’t have to hide, but we don’t have to be on the front lines, either. You need to survive so you can take the throne after our victory.”

  The Thirder forces kept pushing forward to fight, though Oliver saw plenty of nervous expressions on faces of fighters he passed, especially when they spotted him headed in the opposite direction. He nearly changed his mind and returned to leading his people when one voice—calling out one word over and over—cut through the rest of the screaming and fighting and clanging weaponry.

  “Kalford! Kalford!”

  Oliver stopped, immediately recognizing Paige’s voice as she called for her husband, her cries not sad or panicked as much as they were worried. News of the first victim obviously hadn’t made it back to her. Oliver suddenly forgot about the battle, his insides filling with shame. He wished he could ignore Paige completely, but the Thirder force shifted and gave him a clear view of her, spear clumsily in hand, her neck craned looking toward the fight.

  “Go to her,” Emma said, snapping Oliver out of a momentary trance. “She should hear the news from you.”

  Oliver shook his head, opening his mouth to deny wanting to go to Paige. Emma took his arm and pushed him in Paige’s direction, telling her husband it was the right thing to do. He knew she was right. Oliver started to make his way through the crowd but didn’t take two steps when he realized Aytyn was following him.

  “Stay with the princess. . . the new queen,” he commanded Aytyn. “It’s more important that she survives than me.”

  Aytyn’s brow furrowed but he followed the order and trailed Emma. Once Oliver watched them retreat safely down the tunnel, he turned back to Paige. Her eyes sparked when she spotted him, relief washing over her face for a moment before glancing around and seeing that Oliver was alone. Her eyes welled but the rest of her face became an expressionless mask.

  “He’s never gone from your side,” Paige said.

  Oliver could tell she knew what had happened, but he still struggled to find what to say. Instead, he stood in front of her, in silence, his mouth opened slightly but no words coming out. Eventually, she reached out and lightly touched the burns on the side of his face.

  “They don’t look so bad anymore,” she said.

  Oliver frowned. “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to get you away from him. . . my father, I mean. I only wanted what was best for you and Kal.”

  Paige nodded slowly. “I knew this life wouldn’t last forever. . . this peace. But The Fifth—and the freedom you created for its people. . . our people—is how the entire city should be.”

  Paige exhaled deeply, took her spear in both hands and pushed her way forward. Panic swirled in Oliver’s belly and only one word exploded in his mind, one word he couldn’t keep quiet.

  “No!”

  Paige forced a smile. “Your vision for the future is something worth fighting for. I’ll gladly die for what’s right—for who’s right—just like my husband did.”

  Oliver didn’t want to see her go but couldn’t argue with her logic. He stood still, unable to do anything but watch her leave, knowing that she would likely die and it would be due to every decision he’d made.

  “Paige!” a voice cried out.

  Oliver spun and saw his wife—flanked by Aytyn—standing just behind him. Paige stopped and looked back at the new queen.

  “You used to work as a healer,” Emma said.

  For a moment, Paige’s eyes were as blank as the rest of her face. She finally blinked hard, frowning as she nodded.

  “A lot of people are going to be hurt,” Emma said. “It’ll be important to have someone capable of helping. Come with me.”

  Without giving Paige another glance, Emma turned toward The Third. Paige watched her go and for a moment, Oliver didn’t think she was going to follow her queen’s order. But she finally dropped her spear and hurried after Emma. Oliver did the same and soon reached the entrance, out of which still streamed groups of Thirder fighters, men and women that looked unlikely to do anything but die while slowing down the One guards’ advance.

  “P
lease, Your Illustriousness, returning to The Third would be unwise,” Aytyn said.

  “I have to rally as many of my people as possible,” Emma said resolutely.

  “Runners have been dispatched to The Third and Fifth to call everyone to action,” Aytyn said. He pointed behind them, where Thirders continued to fight valiantly, though One’s forces pushed their way ahead. “We can’t defend both sections. Splitting our forces in half will make it easier for One to overwhelm us.”

  Emma stared longingly into her home, which was quickly clearing of its citizens. Her shoulders sagged.

  “Then why not here?” she asked with little tenacity, as if she already knew the answer. “Why not guard The Third only?”

  “Those in The Fifth are still loyal to the Lord and Jonas,” Aytyn said. “King Edmond always viewed The Fifth as the most important section of the city, at least after One.”

  “But I’m not my father,” Oliver said, surprised to find his voice cracking and his sinuses burning at the mention of the former king.

  Aytyn matched Oliver’s frown. “If you maintain control of The Fifth, you maintain control of its citizens, especially when they find out your father has died. Use your last name to your advantage to keep more Fifthers on your side.”

  “The Third has been under Weller control as far back as the history books go,” Emma said.

  “History books that have never been an accurate portrayal of actual history,” Oliver said.

  Though he echoed the same argument Emma once used, she still shot him with a glare, her eyes quickly softening to regret.

  “I don’t want to be known as the Weller that abandoned The Third,” she said.

  Oliver reached for her hand, surprised when she didn’t yank it away.

  “If we don’t leave now, your reign of The Third will be as the final living Weller,” he said.

  Emma’s eyes narrowed. Oliver was certain she’d pull away and when she did, she led him farther down the tunnel. But their escape wasn’t easy and they stopped several times to fight off One guards that had broken through the Thirders behind them. The One guards were inundating Emma’s people, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Oliver suddenly wasn’t certain if Emma and he would make it to The Fifth before being caught.

  “We have to stop and fight! I don’t want to be chopped down from behind!” Emma yelled.

  Oliver didn’t want to glance back but he did every few seconds, finding the enemy drawing nearer, Emma’s warning closer to becoming reality. Aytyn kept himself between the One guards and the new royal couple, but several spears nipped at his heels, each one coming closer to hitting him. Oliver spotted movement in the distance, dozens of Fifthers running toward them, red-faced and breathless but armed with makeshift weapons, pickaxes and other digging tools. The group slowed as the Fifthers spotted the advancing One guards. Oliver could sense their hesitancy to fight. With little time to convince them, Oliver’s mind conjured a single thing to say.

  “King Edmond is dead! Killed by One guards! They’re trying to destroy the Lord and Jonas!” he called to the Fifthers, who’d always been the city’s most loyal—and easily manipulated—people. “Fight for me now and I guarantee you’ll bask in the Lord’s eternal Light!”

  Oliver felt dirty speaking half-truths and only felt slightly better to see Emma nodding her approval. A few Fifthers raised suspicious eyebrows, but the more devout men and women didn’t hesitate to ready their weapons, yell their support for the Lord and Jonas, and rush into the fray. The others followed. Oliver repeated this message several more times as more Fifthers showed up, their presence slowing the pursuit of One guards.

  “All we have to do is bunker down in The Fifth and defend the entrance,” Aytyn said.

  “I doubt Raefaline cares about The Fifth and its expansion as much as my father did. She’ll have lava flow cut off to The Third and Fifth, and have us all starve to death in the dark. No,” Oliver said, slowing down as they approached a large, familiar metallic blast door, “we have to win this fight here and now. We have to destroy their forces, march to One and take back the throne.”

  “The odds aren’t in our favor,” Aytyn said.

  Another squadron of Fifthers appeared in the distance.

  “But the Lord is,” Emma said.

  Aytyn scanned their surroundings and quickly formulated where to position their incoming forces. They had only minutes to prepare, but The Fifthers followed orders without question. Oliver and Emma tried to push their way to the front but listened when Aytyn insisted they remain at the rear, their backs nearly pressed against The Fourth’s massive blast door.

  “If they’re going to destroy us, the two of you need to be the last ones alive,” Aytyn said.

  Oliver inched in front of Emma, determined to protect her with his dying breath, but she refused to stay back.

  “I need to see this,” she said, watching the One forces approach, easily cutting their way through the intellects of The Third and the rock-scratchers of The Fifth. “I need to see what we’ve caused.”

  She remained expressionless, her eyes wide as she watched their people struck down, streams of blood flowing along the tunnel floor, grunts and groans and cries of agony filling their ears. Aytyn continued to yell for their side to take the fight to One—take the fight to those who’d forsake the Lord and Jonas—but every time Thirders pushed forward, they were summarily cut down, losing three of their own for every One guard they killed. Their numbers quickly dwindled, but Aytyn continued to stop Emma and Oliver from joining the fight, pushing them back against the blast door where they could see everything but do nothing.

  “I’m sorry I failed you and your people,” Oliver told her when he sensed they were in serious danger. “I only wanted to make things right.”

  Emma stared at the approaching forces and shook her head. “I don’t know where my parents are, but my mother always wanted this fight. I hope I made her proud.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Love soared within the steam atop One, his mind telling him to stay shrouded for as long as possible, though so much energy and strength coursed through him that he wanted to fight anyone who’d dare to stop him. He spotted a break among the ceiling of colors and aimed for it, landing on a catwalk hidden above the dozens of hanging monitors. He landed on the catwalk and stood there for several seconds, his pulse racing as his heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest. The steam was so thick that he felt like he was back among the clouds.

  He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, deeply, the thought of friendly faces—the only family he’d ever have—materializing in his mind, helping to steady the beating of his heart. BabyDoll. . . Quinn. . . Lump. . . the other Swarmers at the comm building. . . my family awaiting my return. . . needing my return. . .

  Just as he started to relax, the thought of other faces came to his mind, faces he couldn’t recall clearly because he’d never gotten to see them, faces of ‘failed’ Aviaries he hadn’t been there to catch, faces reduced to splotches of red pounded against the rocky ground. He squinted to see through the steam, staring toward the tunnel to the Quarantined Zone, the tunnel with the elevator leading Above. He wanted nothing more than to fly back to The Mountain, kill every member of The Board, destroy his mother’s murderers and set everyone free.

  Love flexed his back, soaring back into the cloud of steam, desperate to leave this underground prison. But common sense clawed its way past anger and he thought about why he’d never acted on this instinct before: if he died trying to fight The Board, they would become more desperate without him, more women would suffer, and more ‘failed experiments’ would have nobody to catch them. Love’s head swam. Every breath he took filled his lungs with the stench of sulfur. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do, or whom to help, but two words cut through the confusion threatening to overwhelm his mind, two words that had been the focus of his life since the day he returned from his first ‘flight’ out of The Mountain.

>   The Descendant. His lifelong quest, his reason for existing, his best chance to save The Mountain’s women from a lifetime of being implanted with Aviary Blasted embryos. Love never expected to find the City Below, nor had he expected King Edmond to tell him where to find The Descendant. He’d been surprised to find the palace empty and sensed something major happening, but he pushed that aside and tried desperately to remember the fading blueprints of the City Below that The Board had made him memorize.

  The Main Tunnel, he thought, lowering through the steam until he spotted One’s exit, the only place in the massive section where guards still remained. Love flexed his back, propelling himself forward, before drawing his wings straight back into a dive. He sped toward the guards at the tunnel, ready to attack if needed, but saw them looking in the opposite direction, waving.

  Ryo’s breathing finally calmed, though his hands still shook. His fellow guardsmen drove the speeding hovercraft as he sat in the back, looking behind them at the empty tunnel. He worried someone might be back there, chasing them, a thought that sent his pulse racing again. Common sense told him that was impossible, that he’d successfully started a battle One couldn’t possibly lose. He wished he could’ve been there to see the destruction of Aytyn and the former royal guardsmen, but he had more important matters needing his attention.

  He turned forward, spotting the entrance to One far ahead. He smiled at the thought of ruling the city’s largest section with the queen by his side, though he’d now have to deal with the fallout from killing the king. His smile quickly faded.

  Will Queen Raefaline and I marry? What will happen to Tera and Mia? Ryo wondered, hopeful the queen would allow his wife and daughter to be relocated to another section of city. Unless she’s gotten to them already. . . or unless she doesn’t truly plan on having me by her side. What if the child isn’t mine? The baby is obviously dark-skinned, but there are plenty of other guardsmen around. . .

  He glared at the two men sitting in the front, imagining one of them as the real father, wondering if Raefaline could’ve manipulated anyone else the way she’d manipulated him. He gripped his spear tightly and considered plunging it into each of their backs, the same thing he’d have to do to every royal guardsmen if he wanted to ensure nobody was left to challenge him for fatherhood of the new prince. . .