Glass Sword
Page 113
The man in the cell looks weak, as old and frail as his beloved books. His skin has gone white, his remaining hair thin, and the lines on his face have multiplied and deepened. I think he’s even missing teeth. But there’s no mistaking his familiar brown eyes and the spark of intelligence still burning deep inside. Julian.
I can’t get to him fast enough, and hover almost too close to the melting metal. Julian. Julian. Julian. My teacher, my friend. The first bar buckles and Cal wrenches it away, creating a space big enough for me to slip through. I barely notice the suffocating pressure of Silent Stone and focus instead on pulling Julian to his feet. He feels brittle, as if his bones might snap, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll get out of this alive. Then his grip on me tightens and his brow furrows in concentration.
“Bring me to that guard,” he growls, betraying some of his old spirit. “And get Sara out.”
“Of course. We’re here for her too.” I put his arm over my shoulder, helping him walk. Though he’s much taller than me, he feels shockingly light. “We’re here for everyone.”
When we get him outside the cell, Julian stumbles, but keeps his footing. “Cal,” he mutters, reaching for his nephew. He takes his face in his hands and studies the exiled prince like he would an old book. “Things were done, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were,” Cal growls. He doesn’t look my way.
The cells changed what Julian looks like, but not who he is. He nods in understanding, looking very solemn. It comforts Cal in no small way. “Such thoughts have no place here and now. But after.”
“After,” Cal repeats. Finally, he turns his blazing eyes on me. I feel burned by them. “After.”
“Come, Mare, help me to that festering lump.” Julian points to the guard on the floor, unconscious but still living. “Let’s see if I’m not totally useless.”
I do as I’m told, acting as Julian’s crutch as he limps to the fallen officer. Meanwhile, Cal gets to work on Sara’s cell, located across the floor from Julian. Within sight and earshot, but too far away to touch. Another small torture that they had to withstand.
I’ve seen Julian do this before, but never with such effort or pain. His fingers shake as he pries open one of the officer’s eyes, and he swallows many times, trying to call forth the voice that he needs. The song.
“It’s all right, Julian, we can find another way—”
“Another way will get us killed, Mare. Have I taught you nothing at all?”
Despite the situation, I have to smile. I fight the urge to hug him, and try to hide my grin.
Finally, Julian exhales, eyes half-shut. Veins stand out in his neck. Then his eyes snap open, wide and clear. “Wake,” he says in a voice more beautiful than sunset. Beneath us, the officer does as he’s told, his other eye drifting open. “Open the cells. All of them.” A twisting shriek echoes up and down the block as the bars of every single cell bow open in unison. “Build the stairs and walks. Connect everything.” Clang. Clang. Clang. Every shred of metal, the daggers, the electrocuted shards, even the melted drops, flatten and reform, banging together in succession. “Walk with us.” Julian’s voice quivers in the last order, but the magnetron obeys, if a little slowly.
“You’re lucky you came today, Mare,” Julian says as I help him straighten. “They walked us yesterday. We are not so weak as we usually are.”
I debate telling Julian about Jon, his ability, his advice. Julian will love hearing about him. After, I tell myself. After.
For the first time, I have hope.
There will be an after.
Chaos descends on Corros. Gunfire echoes in every corridor, behind every door. The ragged band of Silvers follows us weakly, but a few have the strength to complain. I don’t trust them at all, and almost walk backward to keep watch. Many branch off, slipping around corners, eager to be rid of this place. Others go deeper into the prison, looking for revenge. A few stay with us, their eyes downcast, ashamed to follow the lightning girl. But still they follow. And they fight as best they can. It’s like dropping a stone in a still pond. The ripples start small, but they certainly grow. Each block falls more easily than the last, until the magnetrons inside must run from us. The Silvers kill more than I do, falling on their betrayers like hungry wolves. But even this cannot last. When a Lerolan oblivion blasts away a stone barrier, opening Block J to us, the debris falls not down—but up. And before I understand what’s happening, I’m being sucked into a whirlwind of smoke, shards, and unearthly whispers.
Cameron grabs at my hand, but she slips from my grasp, disappearing into what must be mist. A nymph. I can’t see anything but shadows and gloomy yellow light, each one like a distant, hazy sun. Before I can fall into such oblivion, I reach out, grabbing for anything. My cut hand closes on a cold, limp leg, stopping me with a bone-rattling jolt. “Cal!” I shout, but the howl swallows up my voice.
Grunting, I pull myself up the leg. It must belong to a corpse, because it isn’t moving. Cold fear tears at my mind, reaching with icy, sharp fingers. I almost let go, not wanting to see the face that belongs to this body. It could be anyone. It could be everyone.
It’s wrong to feel relieved, but I do. I don’t recognize the man tangled in the bars of his cell, one leg wrapped, the other still dangling. He’s certainly a prisoner, but I don’t know him, and I won’t mourn him. My back feels nearly split open by scars and burns, and for a second, I allow myself to lean back against the bars. The gravity in this block has shifted. Gareth is here, which means Kilorn, Shade, and Farley are not far behind. They’re supposed to be on the other side of the prison, emptying the far cell blocks—something has forced them in. Or trapped them entirely.
I can’t get to him fast enough, and hover almost too close to the melting metal. Julian. Julian. Julian. My teacher, my friend. The first bar buckles and Cal wrenches it away, creating a space big enough for me to slip through. I barely notice the suffocating pressure of Silent Stone and focus instead on pulling Julian to his feet. He feels brittle, as if his bones might snap, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll get out of this alive. Then his grip on me tightens and his brow furrows in concentration.
“Bring me to that guard,” he growls, betraying some of his old spirit. “And get Sara out.”
“Of course. We’re here for her too.” I put his arm over my shoulder, helping him walk. Though he’s much taller than me, he feels shockingly light. “We’re here for everyone.”
When we get him outside the cell, Julian stumbles, but keeps his footing. “Cal,” he mutters, reaching for his nephew. He takes his face in his hands and studies the exiled prince like he would an old book. “Things were done, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were,” Cal growls. He doesn’t look my way.
The cells changed what Julian looks like, but not who he is. He nods in understanding, looking very solemn. It comforts Cal in no small way. “Such thoughts have no place here and now. But after.”
“After,” Cal repeats. Finally, he turns his blazing eyes on me. I feel burned by them. “After.”
“Come, Mare, help me to that festering lump.” Julian points to the guard on the floor, unconscious but still living. “Let’s see if I’m not totally useless.”
I do as I’m told, acting as Julian’s crutch as he limps to the fallen officer. Meanwhile, Cal gets to work on Sara’s cell, located across the floor from Julian. Within sight and earshot, but too far away to touch. Another small torture that they had to withstand.
I’ve seen Julian do this before, but never with such effort or pain. His fingers shake as he pries open one of the officer’s eyes, and he swallows many times, trying to call forth the voice that he needs. The song.
“It’s all right, Julian, we can find another way—”
“Another way will get us killed, Mare. Have I taught you nothing at all?”
Despite the situation, I have to smile. I fight the urge to hug him, and try to hide my grin.
Finally, Julian exhales, eyes half-shut. Veins stand out in his neck. Then his eyes snap open, wide and clear. “Wake,” he says in a voice more beautiful than sunset. Beneath us, the officer does as he’s told, his other eye drifting open. “Open the cells. All of them.” A twisting shriek echoes up and down the block as the bars of every single cell bow open in unison. “Build the stairs and walks. Connect everything.” Clang. Clang. Clang. Every shred of metal, the daggers, the electrocuted shards, even the melted drops, flatten and reform, banging together in succession. “Walk with us.” Julian’s voice quivers in the last order, but the magnetron obeys, if a little slowly.
“You’re lucky you came today, Mare,” Julian says as I help him straighten. “They walked us yesterday. We are not so weak as we usually are.”
I debate telling Julian about Jon, his ability, his advice. Julian will love hearing about him. After, I tell myself. After.
For the first time, I have hope.
There will be an after.
Chaos descends on Corros. Gunfire echoes in every corridor, behind every door. The ragged band of Silvers follows us weakly, but a few have the strength to complain. I don’t trust them at all, and almost walk backward to keep watch. Many branch off, slipping around corners, eager to be rid of this place. Others go deeper into the prison, looking for revenge. A few stay with us, their eyes downcast, ashamed to follow the lightning girl. But still they follow. And they fight as best they can. It’s like dropping a stone in a still pond. The ripples start small, but they certainly grow. Each block falls more easily than the last, until the magnetrons inside must run from us. The Silvers kill more than I do, falling on their betrayers like hungry wolves. But even this cannot last. When a Lerolan oblivion blasts away a stone barrier, opening Block J to us, the debris falls not down—but up. And before I understand what’s happening, I’m being sucked into a whirlwind of smoke, shards, and unearthly whispers.
Cameron grabs at my hand, but she slips from my grasp, disappearing into what must be mist. A nymph. I can’t see anything but shadows and gloomy yellow light, each one like a distant, hazy sun. Before I can fall into such oblivion, I reach out, grabbing for anything. My cut hand closes on a cold, limp leg, stopping me with a bone-rattling jolt. “Cal!” I shout, but the howl swallows up my voice.
Grunting, I pull myself up the leg. It must belong to a corpse, because it isn’t moving. Cold fear tears at my mind, reaching with icy, sharp fingers. I almost let go, not wanting to see the face that belongs to this body. It could be anyone. It could be everyone.
It’s wrong to feel relieved, but I do. I don’t recognize the man tangled in the bars of his cell, one leg wrapped, the other still dangling. He’s certainly a prisoner, but I don’t know him, and I won’t mourn him. My back feels nearly split open by scars and burns, and for a second, I allow myself to lean back against the bars. The gravity in this block has shifted. Gareth is here, which means Kilorn, Shade, and Farley are not far behind. They’re supposed to be on the other side of the prison, emptying the far cell blocks—something has forced them in. Or trapped them entirely.
