A Rift Between Cities (Arcera Trilogy Book 3) Page 15

  The brief lurch between commanders woke Lena and Alice, and Atlan forced himself out of the chair to study the bridge, and get a better idea how they might prepare for the oncoming rescue. Dreading more scathing remarks from Lena, he forced his tired body around the bridge, looking for anything useful.

  Emrick’s smug voice came from the controls a moment later, “Got it,” he said, “We’re circling a five-mile radius around the city.”

  “Excellent,” Atlan said, and Emrick spun around in the control chair. Atlan snorted at his own stupidity, and wondered how long Emrick had been wanting a chance at the controls.

  “So, how are we going to find her?” Colin asked the group at large.

  “Well, now that Emrick’s proved himself better at the controls,” said Atlan, cocking his head over at their new pilot. “We can figure that out. I think this thing must have cameras—I wonder if any can see in the dark? Look through the specs and see if we can’t get a better idea of the building,” he suggested.

  Atlan paused in his search of the bridge, studying two round hatches—one in the ceiling and one in the floor.

  “Does she still have her earlink?” Talia asked, getting up herself to meander around the bridge and join Atlan’s search.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything from her since she left Seascape.” He tried to hide the tinge of bitterness that crept into his voice. Whether she hadn’t wanted to talk to him or not, she still needed help.

  He was standing on a chair fiddling with the hatch in the ceiling when Talia let out a strangled cry. He nearly toppled over.

  “Sylvia! She’s—here! On the link!” Just as quickly, Talia closed her eyes, no doubt continuing a hasty conversation over her link.

  “Why didn’t we try this earlier?” Lena griped, and Atlan couldn’t help but agree.

  He sank to sit in the chair, knees suddenly wobbly, heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. Talia’s eyes snapped open. “She wants to link with you.”

  Somehow, he was nervous as he opened up the connection—he had spent so much time thinking about her, and this mission, he had forgotten what it would actually be like to talk to her. The link snapped through.

  Sylvia? he called, trying to keep his internal voice from sounding shaky.

  It is you! she cried. What in Arcera is going on?

  We’re here to get you out, he replied.

  To his great surprise, she said, How come you never—never linked before?

  I—I did, dozens of times. You never answered.

  But how—? I tried to link you as soon as I left Seascape!

  Atlan paused, his mouth open in confusion, but before he could think of anything to say, she was back in his mind.

  It doesn’t matter—What did you mean, you’re here to get me out?

  We’re here, in Skycity, he said. We stole a hydrojet, and we’re circling the city. Where are you?

  A hydrojet? What’s—never mind. I’m in the Citizen’s Hall. South west corner. But how are you going to get in?

  Atlan relayed her location to the others who were staring at him in various states of annoyance—only able to watch the emotions flick across his face and hear none of the conversation.

  “We ready, then?” Emrick said from the controls.

  “Let’s do this,” Lena said, and Colin and Alice chimed in with their agreement.

  Talia yanked a fierce-looking baton off the wall, out of an emergency casing. “I’m ready,” was all she said.

  Emrick didn’t need Atlan’s confirmation. He slid his fingers into the controls, and they left their flight path.

  Atlan? her voice came poking at his mind. How are you going to get in? she repeated.

  Sorry! We were flying in a circle and I had to talk to the others.

  Flying?! Who else is with you?

  He told her. The dark mountain grew larger through the window, and they rose to meet it. They all gathered around Emrick and watched the approach of the silhouetted building. Dim lights inside guided them up to the corner and toward the mountainside underneath.

  We’re almost there, he said to her. Are you all right?

  I’m fine. Oh my—she stopped, and Atlan wondered if the link had broken.

  You weren’t kidding about flying, she linked breathlessly.

  A smile quirked at his lips. How do you—?

  Look up.

  The stilted building loomed above them, held up by massive columns of stone. They could clearly see through the floor of the entire building, its front perched on the very peak of the mountain.

  At the southwest corner, he thought he saw movement through the glass, which, as Emrick brought the hydrojet closer, turned out to be Sylvia, waving at them.

  Everyone cracked into wide grins, even Emrick, sweat beading at his temples as he concentrated on the finer movements of the large jet.

  Emrick maneuvered them just underneath the corner of the building, as close as they could get to her, with one of the support columns in the way.

  Atlan already had the top hatch open by the time the jet was lined up. He inched his way onto the top of the jet, keeping a vice-like grip on one of the bars around the hatch.

  He looked up into Sylvia’s face, which was shining with tears and blood. Sitting on the floor, she was leaning on one hip, the other heavily bandaged, in addition to the many other cuts and bruises. She gave him a lopsided grin at the look on his face.

  Hi, she said over the link, eyes bright.

  He laughed. Hi.

  “Quit staring at each other—how are we going to get her out?” Lena had popped out of the hatch.

  Atlan was spared answering by Talia, who pushed herself through the round hatch too, so that she was pressed against Lena, who complained loudly at the intrusion.

  “Know what this is?” she asked, brandishing the baton she had yanked from the emergency box inside.

  Atlan and Lena shook their heads. With a pop and a click, a white-hot flame burst from the baton, almost a foot long. Surprised herself, Talia quickly shut it off.

  “For emergencies,” she said wisely, reciting the large letters painted on the box the baton had come from.

  “I think this qualifies,” Atlan said, gesturing for the baton, which Talia looked only happy to give up now that she had seen it in action.

  They set to work, trading on and off the dangerous task of wielding the baton, being careful to hold it at the right angle so the molten glass didn’t drip right onto their hands.

  Tiny puddles of red-orange glass plopped down and began to cool on the black shell of the jet as they slowly melted the glass above. Sylvia sat slumped against a wall of her cell, eyes half closed, watching their progress, her hands clenched together in her lap.

  Atlan shook out his hand to loosen it after handing the baton over to Colin. He looked up to see a pink sky shot through with white, shocked that morning had come so quickly. Fortunately, they were inches away from finishing the hole.

  There was nothing they could do except let the lumpy glass cylinder drop when the last bit of glass melted. With a clang it hit the jet, stuck for a moment, then tumbled off. Atlan pictured it rolling down the steep mountainside, to the great confusion of anyone who saw might see it.

  “Hi,” Sylvia called nervously through the hole, but she dare not touch it, for the sides were still glowing with heat. “Do you have any water?”

  Lena and Talia went in search of a bucket, leaving Atlan quite suddenly alone with Sylvia.

  “Atlan,” she began throatily. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought—How does this thing work anyway?” she changed tack with a joyous chuckle.

  He grinned at her. “I’ll tell you once you’re out of that cell.”

  Her face crumpled. “Wait—Onen, he was just through there,” she pointed to the cell west of hers. “Is he in there? Can we get him out?”

  From his perch atop the jet, he couldn’t see anything more than shadows in the next room. He slid himself across t
he jet’s surface, hands grasping any handhold he could find, until he could see. “Empty,” he called.

  “They took him around midnight,” she confessed, as Atlan returned and hooked his foot under a bar at the hatch. “I’ve no idea where, but he was innocent—”

  The unmistakable sounds of Lena and Talia returning floated out of the hatch. Between them they carried a large bucket sloshing with water.

  By the time the sides of the hole were cooled, the three of them below were soaked. Sylvia had backed into a corner and watched with anxious amusement as they flung the water upward, turning the glowing orange sides black and hissing. Three sets of hands reached up to help lower her down. The sides of the hole were still hot, but no longer molten.

  She was shaking. Atlan took her in his arms while the others climbed back into the jet, anxious to get going now.

  She was in his arms. She was here. His hands were on her skin, clammy and bruised, but warm. His heart nearly stopped beating as her eyes met his. Unconsciously, he brushed the hair from her face, and her eyes blazed.

  And suddenly she was kissing him. Her lips were warm, and could make time stop.

  It didn’t matter that they were standing on the outside of a hydrojet, hovering outside the city of an insane governor. It didn’t matter that his mother would as good as hang him if he returned to Seascape, and it didn’t matter whether he took the serum or not.

  All that mattered was her.

  It was an effort to breathe, and opening his eyes wrenched him painfully back to reality. But her eyes were there, staring into his, and her soft mouth was twisted into a smile that could melt the hardest of glass. And that smile was for him.

  “Atlan?”

  Her lips hadn’t moved, but now her eyebrows creased, and he realized the voice had come from the hatch.

  “Can we go?” Lena called from below.

  His heart still thudding erratically, he traced his thumb along the side of her face, her sandy hair floating around it like spun sugar.

  Reluctantly, he brought her to the opening, ready to lower her into Lena’s impatient hands.

  “Wait,” Sylvia called, and his eyes darted back to hers, the only place they wanted to be.

  “Can you—Can you check for Onen again?” she pleaded.

  He nodded, and watched her slip into the jet, courtesy of Lena and Colin. He carefully scrabbled back across to check the second cell once more. Still empty. A tiny part of him was glad—they didn’t have the time. He needed to get her as far from here as possible.

  His near-immediate reappearance gave her all the answer she needed, and she gave him a sad smile in thanks.

  Somehow she was standing, Colin and Lena on either side, having just put her down. Alice ran off muttering about a medical kit, and Atlan stepped closer to Sylvia, raising his hands, wanting to touch her again despite their situation.

  She was in bad shape, now that he had a chance to really look at her. She was thin, and the skin under her eyes dark. Besides the obvious bandages on her hip, hand and calf, she was covered in bruises and scrapes. Crusted blood matted the hair at the back of her head, and she swayed on the spot, though the jet was unmoving.

  He rushed to grab her just as she collapsed. And then she was in his arms again, too thin, beaten and near unconsciousness.

  Around him he heard the sounds of the hatch being shut, and Emrick taking the controls. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sagged more heavily in his arms.

  “Out, huh?” Talia asked.

  “Seems like we came just in time,” Alice murmured, returning with a medical kit.

  “Where to?” Emrick called.

  Sylvia’s eyes fluttered back open. “Meadowcity,” she rasped. “Please—once he finds out I’m gone—” and with that, she dropped off once more.

  “Let’s bring her home, then,” said Atlan.

  Thirty-One

  Sorin decided to walk Onen back to his cell personally. It had taken most of the night to convince Onen to get the information from Thorne, but now he was confident he was about to get some answers at last.

  It took a while before Sorin had realized that courtesy, not threats would earn him cooperation with his old friend. That, and a cup of tea and rest on a proper bed had done wonders for the old man’s cooperation. Onen hadn’t expressly agreed to it, but Sorin knew he was thinking about it.

  The Book Keeper had formed a bond with the girl already, and Sorin had managed to find out a little of what she had told him. It was good she was going to trial—he couldn’t risk her spouting that nonsense to anyone else. How could she not see it was damaging to Arcera’s welfare?

  He opened the door to Onen’s cell, thinking of clapping the old man on the back in a small gesture of thanks, when he saw a strange movement through the floor.

  They both stopped and stared. Something like a massive black bird was swooping away from underneath the building. But it wasn’t a bird at all.

  “No,” he uttered, his heart choking him deep in his throat. “No.”

  Seconds later he burst through the door to her cell.

  Then he began laughing. He couldn’t stop. It was so incredibly ludicrous.

  There was a hole in the foot-thick glass floor, and Thorne was gone.

  When the delirious snorting finally subsided, he turned to Grebe, who stood behind him with a look of angry disappointment on his face.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get her back,” he said, steel in his voice. “We’re leaving. Tell Falx to wait, if he hasn’t already left.”

  “This time I’ll get what I came for.”

  Thirty-Two

  Ember willed her knees not to buckle as Ven’s weight slammed into her left side, their knives clanging together with a jolt that shook her shoulder.

  With a grunt, she pushed him back, wrenching herself free of his blade, and springing away.

  He staggered back and lowered his guard, as if to take a break, but Ember waited. He had tricked her before.

  “You’re doing better,” he observed, finally retreating to get a drink of water from their packs stashed against the stones.

  She lowered her knife. “Thanks,” she said, coming up right behind him. He jumped a little, then offered her his water canister.

  “How’s your hand?” he asked, as she picked at the tight bandages, now free of the sling.

  “Much better,” she replied after slaking her thirst. “Rekha said there were only two breaks, but it felt like a thousand.”

  They sat in amicable silence on the mountainside, just outside of camp, slowly sipping water, and watching the birds dart between the rocks.

  Ember wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, then stared out into the wilds beyond the mountainside, eyes boring into the dark shadows between the trees as her heart slowed back down to its regular rhythm.

  She had pestered him to spar with her this morning, and he had merely shrugged his shoulders and followed her to the flat place they had found among the rocks.

  Perhaps spending time with someone had lightened his spirits—Ember liked to think so, anyway. He seemed to talk more, and on the rare occasion, a smile would break through his sullen face like a wildflower breaking through craggy stone.

  But he still refused to help plan the mission. Though he hadn’t said so yet, Ember thought he wasn’t even going to come with them.

  “You going hunting today?” she inquired, taking a swig from the water.

  “Mmmh,” he replied, nodding. Still a man of few words, she thought wryly.

  “I want to come,” she said, suddenly deciding. She was growing tired of studying diagrams with Apex.

  “You know I can’t stop you,” he joked. “I just hope you’re quieter in the woods than Flint.”

  She knew she was terrible at keeping quiet in the woods—Sylvia would never let her forget it—but she went anyway. It would be good for him to have some company, she thought.

  He still spent most of his days pulling watch duty or hunting
, doing absolutely anything to avoid the plans for the mission.

  There was nothing wrong with helping the rebels in such a way, but she knew the reason behind his avoidance, and it went much deeper than it should.

  She kept back several paces and let Ven lurk about the woods, doing his Hunter business. Evidently he found some hare tracks in dried mud, and was attempting to locate the animals. She kept her dagger out and watched the woods. Still unable to wield a bow and actually do any hunting, she could at least keep an eye out for Scouts.

  When he finally caught two hares, he signaled that they should return to camp. She fell into step beside him as they trudged back west.

  “Are you coming on the mission with us?” she finally blurted. She wasn’t going to dance around the subject any longer.

  There was no change in Ven’s gait, but she saw his shoulders visibly tense at the question.

  “Why?” he demanded, voice strained.

  “Don’t get mad at me,” she shot back, and they stopped to face each other.

  “I—I’m not mad,” he stammered.

  “Then don’t snap at me,” she retorted. “And it’s because I want you to come, that’s why.” She huffed. She was never any good at controlling her temper when people got snippy with her.

  Ven looked like he had just been struck over the head. “Oh.”

  Then suddenly he grabbed her, tackling her to the ground into a pile of leaves.

  She opened her mouth to ask him what in Arcera he was doing, but it was quickly covered by his hand. How dare he!

  “Stop,” he hissed. “There’s Scouts.”

  And her heart plummeted to her gut. He slid his hand away from her mouth as he saw the understanding in her eyes.

  “Where?” she whispered, and, realizing that Ven was still on top of her, “Get off, will you?”

  “I can’t,” he breathed in her ear. “They’re too close, and there’s a wolf with them.”

  Ember slowed her breathing, not a difficult thing to do with Ven’s weight on her lungs and belly, she observed.