Chapter 45
Istick my head around the corner of the wagon and an arrow immediately flies in my direction. I fall back against the wheel, nearly toppling the small stack of boxes Sam, Levi and I are taking cover behind.
‘How many?’ Samuel asks, keeping his back to me, eyes locked on the trees.
‘Probably a couple of dozen hidden around the wagons. You?’
‘Eight at least, on the right,’ he says. ‘A handful are lying in the tall grass, waiting to pick us off.’
‘Three on my side,’ Levi adds. ‘Still no sign of Marian or Agatha … or our other guys.’
I mutter an oath. What was I thinking asking Marian to take on Coatl alone? A man double her size. And while she’s injured, no less.
That’s the problem – I wasn’t thinking. I was too busy drowning in Agatha’s emotions.
All her hysteria and fear. It appears me wanting to save her and her wanting to be saved has opened up a channel between us, because whenever I’m within throwing distance of her, I pick up flashes of her terror.
But being knee-deep in Agatha’s panic is no excuse.
I deserve to be stabbed for sending Marian in alone.
‘We’ll have to make a run for it,’ I say, unwilling to wait any longer.
Sam grunts. ‘Be serious; we have three arrows left. We aren’t going anywhere without a fresh supply, which isn’t coming. I haven’t seen Lucky or the muskrats since the catapult launched that last explosive.’
Neither have I. Damn it all.
‘I saw Rufus cowering under a wagon,’ Levi adds.
‘Of course he was,’ Samuel mutters dryly.
‘The guards are going to make their move soon, so what’s it going to be?’ I ask, urgency blistering under my skin. ‘Run, or die behind this trailer?’ I know my choice, but I won’t make theirs for them.
All I hear is Samuel breathing hard behind me. He may be cranky as hell, but he’s fiercely loyal and protective to a fault. He’d never let us die without a fight. ‘Okay,’ he finally agrees. ‘We run and head east. Round up horses and regroup.’
‘Fine,’ I say, since that’s the best route. ‘But then we work our way to the north side where I last saw Marian and Agatha. And if I don’t make it, you find them. Get them out of here.’
I glance at Levi. He looks less sure and a lot more nervous. I clap a hand on his shoulder. ‘You good?’
‘Probably shouldn’t admit this, but you know how goats do that screaming thing?’ He nods. ‘That’s the sound playing in my head.’
I crack a smile. ‘What a way to break you into being an elite guard.’
Samuel turns to look at me, his expression dark. ‘No.’
‘No what?’ I ask, startled.
‘No, we’re not getting Marian and Agatha for you if you die. So don’t die. You damn well better liv–’
A piercing sound starts from somewhere behind us, and we all raise our weapons. It occurs to me that it’s a battle cry, as a man on a horse bursts from the trees and gallops at full speed straight for us.
‘That’s Lucky,’ I say with disbelief.
Levi angles closer. ‘What the hellfire is he doing? He’s not even armed.’
Or slowing down. ‘It’s a diversion,’ I say, amazed.
Lucky speeds past us, cutting through the circle of wagons, drawing everyone’s attention.
‘Go, go, go!’ I urge, and we all spring up from our hiding place.
But Lucky’s voice cuts off as he’s shot with an arrow. He bends over, clutching his thigh, then tumbles awkwardly from his horse, hitting the ground hard.
Samuel grabs my shirt and hauls me back behind the wagon for cover.
The whole place goes silent as Lucky lies sprawled out in the open. It wasn’t a killing shot, the fall was nasty, and he’s lying dead still.
Come on, wake up.
Suddenly, he takes a loud, gasping breath.
My shoulders fall in relief.
‘That really hurt, you arseholes,’ Lucky yells.
The man has the survival instincts of a napkin. Shut up, Lucky.
We wait for more arrows to fly. Instead, somebody snickers.
‘I bet it did,’ says a militia guard. A bunch more laugh.
With a guttural moan, Lucky attempts to sit up. He seems stunned by the arrow protruding from his thigh and he balks. ‘I can’t believe you guys shot me,’ he cries. ‘I’m not even armed.’ He starts spiralling, his chest heaving. ‘You know this is going to get infected. I’m probably going to die.’
‘Oh, you’re fine,’ snaps a deep voice. Another guardsman. ‘Just pull the arrow and stand up.’
Lucky sniffs, then with a whimper, he grasps the shaft of the arrow. ‘I just want you guys to know I also hurt my head when I fell.’
‘Something else is going to hurt if you don’t hurry up.’
Lucky grimaces, then yanks on the arrow and cries out. He falls back to the ground, arrow still in his leg.
‘Did he just faint?’ Samuel asks, disgusted.
‘Yes,’ I say, puzzled – but not at Lucky’s weak constitution. It’s that they haven’t shot him again. Even the first arrow wasn’t meant to kill him.
They still consider him one of them.
‘Someone go do it for him,’ shouts a guardsman. ‘Pickler, I nominate you.’
A man from behind me yells back. ‘I’m not getting shot. Why don’t you do it?’
‘I’ll do it,’ I shout.
‘What?’ Samuel attempts to grab me again, but I dodge him and strip off my weapons.
My heart is a hammer behind my ribs as I raise my hands. When my palms don’t gain any holes, I call out again. ‘I’m unarmed.’ Slowly, I show my head.
Any weapon that wasn’t pointed at me, sure is now. But as the guards peek out from their hiding spots, I see they’re some of the ones who flipped sides earlier, joining us in revolting. They’re just as trapped as we are.
‘What are you doing, Ryland?’ Samuel growls.
I’m making a gamble – probably our only shot. They haven’t killed Lucky because they don’t want to. And I think that’s not the only thing they don’t want. Slowly, I step out from behind the wagon.
I flinch, pulse racing, as an arrow flies right past me, only feet from my left arm.
‘Come on,’ I shout. ‘I’m trying to save one of your own.’
Someone scoffs. ‘He’s not ours any more.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I say. ‘I think you have a lot of friends here – some have just decided your commander is a coward who’s not worth dying for.’ I inch forward another step. ‘Speaking of the man, where is he?’
The silence that follows is deafening.
‘Dead?’ I ask. ‘Or is he hiding, while you do the dirty work, as usual? You know you’re nothing to him.
’ I take another step. ‘And he’s nothing without you.
You hold all the power. So what are you going to do with it?
Shoot your friends?’ I lock eyes with one, then two men who are looking out at me.
‘Or take this opportunity to get out from under a tyrant, which is as simple as walking away and leaving him here. No one else has to die today.’
For a long time, nothing happens, and then one guy curses, stands and strides towards the trees, leaving.
I wait.
A couple more pop out from their hiding spots. They’re more skittish and duck as they run away. Another one stands and aims his bow at me. My eyes close, bracing – of course, there had to be one. But when I finally chance a look, he’s slowly backing away.
‘It’s a trap. Don’t do it,’ someone warns.
‘How about we leave, but your men have to come out first?’ a guard calls from the grass.
He means Samuel and Levi. And good luck stripping Sam of –
Something sharp and dangerous pricks my gut. Emotions that aren’t mine. My gaze snaps up. Agatha is close. And she’s afraid.
There’s movement. A group of men ambush Samuel and Levi behind the wagon. An older man with a broom of a moustache takes the lead and yells at them, ‘Surrender. Drop to your knees!’
My friends must obey, because I don’t hear fighting. Moments later, an enraged Samuel and Levi are dragged out, hands tied behind them. Legs bound.
‘They’re secured,’ Moustache announces.
Samuel glares at me as if it’s my fault.
My heart pounds. At least they haven’t been shot; that should count for something.
There’s still tension in the air, but now with their capture, more of the guardsmen relax and emerge from their hiding spots.
The collective sense of abandoning ship seems to grow as men run to gather weapons.
Supplies. Most don’t even look at me. Unarmed, I’m not their opponent any more. And I’m certainly not their leader.
No one is.
‘What about him?’ Diggs asks, eyeing me nervously.
I remain still, hands open. But I see it: he’s going to tie me up too. Not just because it’s the safest for him. He’s a friend of Soren.
And then I’ll never get to Agatha or Marian.
I dart to the side, risking the tentative peace and sprint. At a flipped catapult, I dive underneath.
Diggs’s voice calls out, alarmed, ‘Hey! Where’d he go?’
I glance back while belly-crawling and spot Diggs jogging the other way – probably realising the other guards are about to leave him behind.
Sam and Levi will have to wait to be set free. Agatha has to be close – and alive – or I wouldn’t have felt anything from her before. Maybe she’s hiding.
My gut wrenches – Agatha might hide but not Marian. Where are you?
It hits me that I should be able to use the connection to guide myself.
I try to focus … and feel nothing. Agatha and I haven’t really connected.
Slowing my brain to home in on her is as natural as breathing underwater, but I force it.
Maybe if I think about the parts of her that have intrigued me – her love of science, her intelligence.
I throw in how badly I want to find her, and I feel it – the tug of the threads holding us together.
It’s followed by a swift kick of terror, stronger than before.
I spin around, trying to follow where it leads as if it were a scent drifting on the breeze.
But it’s gone. ‘Agatha!’ I call. I start running again, weaving around debris and scouring burned wagons.
Is she buried under something? ‘Marian!’
I round some fallen trees and freeze when I see Atlas. He’s holding a fancy crossbow from the wall of his High Command. His daughters are tied up and gagged at his feet.
My pounding blood runs molten.
‘I knew you’d come for them,’ he says, aiming at me. He sounds smug, like holding his daughters hostage is something to be proud of. ‘I just had to wait.’