Rebel Heart
Page 60
Lugh jumps on the driver’s bench. The wheels start to move. Through the Field of the Fallen Mountain we go. Bram’s good horse, Ted, slips along the road, around the boulders. Nero flits from one to the next. Tracker paces behind.
If DeMalo’s there . . . if he’s there . . . please, please, don’t let him be there. Why would he be? He was at his retreat camp this mornin. Mind you, so was I.
It ain’t no part of our plan to hand me over. I’m jest to smooth us through the gate. Once we’re inside, in the belly of the beast as Slim calls it, we make haste to find Emmi an git out quick. We dunno what to especk once we’re inside. We’ll hafta depend on sharp wits, fast thinkin an swift moves. But. But. If all goes wrong an fer some reason I end up facin DeMalo once more, I know somethin about him.
I seen his weakness. The flush on his cheekbones. The whispers. The cries in the closeness of the tent. Not jest mine. His.
Of your own free will, you’ll come to me again. I’m in his blood. I’m a fever in his blood. It ain’t jest him that’s got power now.
An it ain’t jest DeMalo that preys on my mind.
The heartstone hangs around my neck. It’ll lead me to Jack. If he’s there, I’ll find him. An I’ll kill him.
Betrayer. Deceiver.
Of Maev an the Hawks an the Raiders. Of the forty dead at Darktrees. Of how many more that I don’t know about. Of Emmi. Of me.
The silent enemy – the tiny brown bottle – tucked aginst my breast.
A sharp knife deep in my boot sheath.
The anger starts to burn, deep in my gut.
We drop Ash an Molly where Bram planned we should. As the Field of the Fallen Mountain ends an the start of the treeline marks the final approach to Resurrection. They’ll beat fast through the woods, skirtin along the edge of the lake to the far end. Glasswater Tarn’s a league in length, near enough.
Bram hid three canoes aginst the day they’d be needed. He nursed high hopes of his newborn resistance. Up to now, he’d only used ’em fer his night-time scout expeditions to watch an learn what he could about Resurrection.
With a wave, Ash an Molly slink into the trees with Tracker an the horses an we jolt off. We won’t see ’em agin till we have Emmi safe with us. Then we’ll make the drop by rope down to where they’ll be waitin fer us in the canoes.
Ted pulls strong up the last bit of the slope, then we’re at the top. From where we are, the road runs a flat approach to the blank iron gate of the gatehouse.
Creed, Lugh an me, our priority’s Emmi, says Maev. Quick as we can, we find where they’re keepin her an we snatch her. Saba an Tommo, you git the ropes in place. Stick close to each other, okay? Everybody good?
We all make assent.
We know this ain’t a great sitchation, says Maev. But we’re smart, an fast. We go in, we find Emmi, we git her out. That’s it. An if you gotta kill anybody, do it quiet. All right, Lugh. Drive on.
My fingertips tingle. My insides judder. My stummick’s atwist with nerves an fear. My mind thinks clear. My eyes see sharp. It’s jest like I felt before fights in the Cage. I’m ready fer anythin. The red hot smoulders, ready to burn.
As we roll towards the gatehouse, Nero rides the cold mountain wind that whips around us.
There’s a guard tower on each side, one guard in each nest. They point their firesticks at us. Password! calls one.
I got better’n a password, brother! Lugh calls back. Shine yer lights down! See what I got in the cart!
Tommo an Creed haul me to my feet so’s I face the gate. Strong lanterns cut through the gloom. They settle on me where I stand. Creed shoves up my chin, so’s they git a good look at my cheekbone tattoo.
It’s the Angel of Death, says Lugh.
Someone shouts out a order. With a groan an a shudder an a creak of chain, the gate starts to slide to one side. They’re lettin us in.
Here we go, says Maev.
We drive into a big open courtyard with a swept dirt ground. It’s torchlit. Quite a few Tonton movin about. A little group on one side stretch an lunge an turn, all together. Graceful, one move flowin into the next one. None of ’em’s Jack.
We stop next to a gibbet, right in the middle. Two Tonton hang from it, still in their black robes. Their flesh ain’t decayin, it’s bein et. By birds, insects, rats. The stench is gruesome. Jack ain’t one of ’em. That’s all I got time to take in.
Eight or so Tonton’s already runnin at us. As two of ’em grab Ted’s head to stop him, the rest swarm around the back of the cart an it’s all a blur, a confusion, an inside of me the red hot pops an snaps, as they unhitch the back flap an bundle out Maev an me. Creed an Lugh an Tommo jump down.
The commander salutes. Long life to the Pathfinder!
Our boys do the same. Eyes on the commander. Playin the part of loyal Tonton. The commander smiles. He’s got snaggly teeth. His thin blonde hair’s in full retreat from his forehead.
Nice work, brother, he says to Creed. I’ll take her straight to the Pathfinder.
I break into a cold sweat as one of the guards hands him the end of my rope.
But, sir, we caught her, sir, says Creed. It’s only right that we hand her over.
I shouldn’t hafta remind you, brother, that we serve New Eden, not ourselves, says the commander. But under the circumstances, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Who’s this other female?
We caught her sabotagin, sir, says Lugh. Sector Ten.
You an yer patrol can hand her in fer interrogation, he says. That’s all.
Four Tonton start herdin ’em towards a door in the guardhouse walls. The commander starts walkin me towards another one. There’s two other Tonton with us.
We got inside Resurrection. But that’s all. The plan’s a bust already. I got no control. I’m tied so well, I got no chance to git away. But I can stumble.
I trip myself up. Twist to look to the darkenin sky. Nero! I yell.
The commander’s kept a firm grip on me an, even as I cry out, he’s yankin me upright an on we go. But Nero’s heard. He comes swoopin down at the Tonton, the commander an the two others. They duck, flailin at him an yellin. Nero’s a fearsome sight, screechin an flappin as he attacks.
Do somethin! yells the commander. Stop him!
Tommo’s already runnin this way. Nobody else moved to heed their commander. Must be skeered of birds. Or maybe jest crows.
You, the commander says to Tommo, you brought her in, didn’t you? Take the bird.
Nero’s settled on my head. Fluffin up his feathers an makin mean. Tommo lifts him offa my head.
Follow me, says the commander. The Angel of Death an her crow. That’ll please the Pathfinder.
We go through the door an it clangs shut behind us. We’re in dank gloom, lit only by a few wall torches. Almost right away, we’re goin down a open metal staircase. The commander goes first, pushin me ahead of him, behind us a Tonton guard, then Tommo holdin Nero, then the second guard bringin up the rear. We go down two floors.
We turn left. Then we’re marchin down a long, wide corridor. Rushlight torches gutter an smoke as they throw jagged pools of filthy orange light offa the walls, ceilin an floor. All concrete. It’s cool, a bit damp. We pass wooden doors on both sides. Each one the same, spaced regular. Each one bolted shut. My skin shivers. It’s my dream.
I’m runnin. I gotta find Jack. I know he’s here. Down a long, dark corridor. Torches throw ragged shadows across the stone walls.
If DeMalo’s there . . . if he’s there . . . please, please, don’t let him be there. Why would he be? He was at his retreat camp this mornin. Mind you, so was I.
It ain’t no part of our plan to hand me over. I’m jest to smooth us through the gate. Once we’re inside, in the belly of the beast as Slim calls it, we make haste to find Emmi an git out quick. We dunno what to especk once we’re inside. We’ll hafta depend on sharp wits, fast thinkin an swift moves. But. But. If all goes wrong an fer some reason I end up facin DeMalo once more, I know somethin about him.
I seen his weakness. The flush on his cheekbones. The whispers. The cries in the closeness of the tent. Not jest mine. His.
Of your own free will, you’ll come to me again. I’m in his blood. I’m a fever in his blood. It ain’t jest him that’s got power now.
An it ain’t jest DeMalo that preys on my mind.
The heartstone hangs around my neck. It’ll lead me to Jack. If he’s there, I’ll find him. An I’ll kill him.
Betrayer. Deceiver.
Of Maev an the Hawks an the Raiders. Of the forty dead at Darktrees. Of how many more that I don’t know about. Of Emmi. Of me.
The silent enemy – the tiny brown bottle – tucked aginst my breast.
A sharp knife deep in my boot sheath.
The anger starts to burn, deep in my gut.
We drop Ash an Molly where Bram planned we should. As the Field of the Fallen Mountain ends an the start of the treeline marks the final approach to Resurrection. They’ll beat fast through the woods, skirtin along the edge of the lake to the far end. Glasswater Tarn’s a league in length, near enough.
Bram hid three canoes aginst the day they’d be needed. He nursed high hopes of his newborn resistance. Up to now, he’d only used ’em fer his night-time scout expeditions to watch an learn what he could about Resurrection.
With a wave, Ash an Molly slink into the trees with Tracker an the horses an we jolt off. We won’t see ’em agin till we have Emmi safe with us. Then we’ll make the drop by rope down to where they’ll be waitin fer us in the canoes.
Ted pulls strong up the last bit of the slope, then we’re at the top. From where we are, the road runs a flat approach to the blank iron gate of the gatehouse.
Creed, Lugh an me, our priority’s Emmi, says Maev. Quick as we can, we find where they’re keepin her an we snatch her. Saba an Tommo, you git the ropes in place. Stick close to each other, okay? Everybody good?
We all make assent.
We know this ain’t a great sitchation, says Maev. But we’re smart, an fast. We go in, we find Emmi, we git her out. That’s it. An if you gotta kill anybody, do it quiet. All right, Lugh. Drive on.
My fingertips tingle. My insides judder. My stummick’s atwist with nerves an fear. My mind thinks clear. My eyes see sharp. It’s jest like I felt before fights in the Cage. I’m ready fer anythin. The red hot smoulders, ready to burn.
As we roll towards the gatehouse, Nero rides the cold mountain wind that whips around us.
There’s a guard tower on each side, one guard in each nest. They point their firesticks at us. Password! calls one.
I got better’n a password, brother! Lugh calls back. Shine yer lights down! See what I got in the cart!
Tommo an Creed haul me to my feet so’s I face the gate. Strong lanterns cut through the gloom. They settle on me where I stand. Creed shoves up my chin, so’s they git a good look at my cheekbone tattoo.
It’s the Angel of Death, says Lugh.
Someone shouts out a order. With a groan an a shudder an a creak of chain, the gate starts to slide to one side. They’re lettin us in.
Here we go, says Maev.
We drive into a big open courtyard with a swept dirt ground. It’s torchlit. Quite a few Tonton movin about. A little group on one side stretch an lunge an turn, all together. Graceful, one move flowin into the next one. None of ’em’s Jack.
We stop next to a gibbet, right in the middle. Two Tonton hang from it, still in their black robes. Their flesh ain’t decayin, it’s bein et. By birds, insects, rats. The stench is gruesome. Jack ain’t one of ’em. That’s all I got time to take in.
Eight or so Tonton’s already runnin at us. As two of ’em grab Ted’s head to stop him, the rest swarm around the back of the cart an it’s all a blur, a confusion, an inside of me the red hot pops an snaps, as they unhitch the back flap an bundle out Maev an me. Creed an Lugh an Tommo jump down.
The commander salutes. Long life to the Pathfinder!
Our boys do the same. Eyes on the commander. Playin the part of loyal Tonton. The commander smiles. He’s got snaggly teeth. His thin blonde hair’s in full retreat from his forehead.
Nice work, brother, he says to Creed. I’ll take her straight to the Pathfinder.
I break into a cold sweat as one of the guards hands him the end of my rope.
But, sir, we caught her, sir, says Creed. It’s only right that we hand her over.
I shouldn’t hafta remind you, brother, that we serve New Eden, not ourselves, says the commander. But under the circumstances, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Who’s this other female?
We caught her sabotagin, sir, says Lugh. Sector Ten.
You an yer patrol can hand her in fer interrogation, he says. That’s all.
Four Tonton start herdin ’em towards a door in the guardhouse walls. The commander starts walkin me towards another one. There’s two other Tonton with us.
We got inside Resurrection. But that’s all. The plan’s a bust already. I got no control. I’m tied so well, I got no chance to git away. But I can stumble.
I trip myself up. Twist to look to the darkenin sky. Nero! I yell.
The commander’s kept a firm grip on me an, even as I cry out, he’s yankin me upright an on we go. But Nero’s heard. He comes swoopin down at the Tonton, the commander an the two others. They duck, flailin at him an yellin. Nero’s a fearsome sight, screechin an flappin as he attacks.
Do somethin! yells the commander. Stop him!
Tommo’s already runnin this way. Nobody else moved to heed their commander. Must be skeered of birds. Or maybe jest crows.
You, the commander says to Tommo, you brought her in, didn’t you? Take the bird.
Nero’s settled on my head. Fluffin up his feathers an makin mean. Tommo lifts him offa my head.
Follow me, says the commander. The Angel of Death an her crow. That’ll please the Pathfinder.
We go through the door an it clangs shut behind us. We’re in dank gloom, lit only by a few wall torches. Almost right away, we’re goin down a open metal staircase. The commander goes first, pushin me ahead of him, behind us a Tonton guard, then Tommo holdin Nero, then the second guard bringin up the rear. We go down two floors.
We turn left. Then we’re marchin down a long, wide corridor. Rushlight torches gutter an smoke as they throw jagged pools of filthy orange light offa the walls, ceilin an floor. All concrete. It’s cool, a bit damp. We pass wooden doors on both sides. Each one the same, spaced regular. Each one bolted shut. My skin shivers. It’s my dream.
I’m runnin. I gotta find Jack. I know he’s here. Down a long, dark corridor. Torches throw ragged shadows across the stone walls.
