Sinking
At Ashahr, they hit an unforeseen snag.
Kai had carefully rebuilt the train carriage, restoring the wooden walls to their original windowless condition.
They’d prepared themselves, dressing in stolen military uniforms and availing themselves of stolen rations.
If one or both of them decided to get off at Ashahr, they’d pass themselves off as soldiers, just as Math had at Sounalla.
There was just one problem: the train didn’t stop.
With no window, Math only realized something was wrong when the rhythm of the wheels shifted—twice—without the train slowing. By the time he found a knothole in the planks, Ashahr was already behind them.
“This significantly simplifies matters,” Kaiataris stated crisply.
Math glared at her. He felt the faintest pulse of satisfaction beneath her calm—a dry, bitter spike that wasn’t his. It made his own frustration flare hotter than it should have.
“We also needed the train to stop if we were going to investigate your waystation, you know.”
“Were we going to do that?” She raised an eyebrow. “I rather thought you were determined to go running back to your order.”
Her tone was sharp, but the burn of resentment came through the bond like a slap. Not just irritation—betrayal. Oh yes. She was still angry.
Then again, so was he.
“It’s not just about me, Kai,” he snapped.
“And despite what you think, I’m not trying to abandon you.
There’s a dozen kids back in Isofal that I will probably never see again if the Order thinks I’m some foreign agent, and running off to the one nation that Rokasmaa considers an even bigger threat than the Kaliri isn’t exactly going to convince them otherwise! ”
She stilled. Before she spoke, he felt the change: the heat in her presence dulled, gave way to something cooler—uncertainty, maybe. Regret. It slid into his chest like cold water.
“I … I did not realize you were their caretaker.”
“Technically, Master Wadera was their guardian. Unfortunately, he’s also the one who got his head smashed in when you were woken.
” He waved a hand. “I worry about them, okay? Everyone knows the misfits are sent to Isofal, except now that it’s been torn open, they’ll be sent somewhere I can’t protect them. ”
“Are there any more like you?”
Math’s eyes narrowed. A flicker of tension spiked from her, like a breath held too long.
“Would you like to clarify that?”
“Are there any more children who might be specifically targeted by the Parnathi?” She raised her chin, and to his surprise, her concern felt genuine and raw-edged. “People with an unusual connection to plants.”
“No. I don’t know.” He swallowed down his distaste at the unspoken foundation of that question—that the Parnathi were absolutely targeting him.
That even if he wasn’t one of them, they wanted him to be.
“I’m Wood resonant. So are a lot of people, but I’ve never heard of anyone else with my … plant issues.”
Mostly because anyone who couldn’t control their powers in a similar way would be classified as a grimmock and “removed.”
“That is good.” She crossed her arms and looked away.
Her feelings were a tumult—guilt, worry, something sharp and self-directed.
“We will likely have to jump from the train when the time comes, but I can create a pair of charms to protect us. They will only last a few seconds, but I suspect that is all we’ll need. ”
He didn’t answer. The anger had drained from her—but now there was discomfort threading between them, an echo of shame that wasn’t his and too strong to ignore.
“Math.”
He exhaled and nodded. “Yes, of course. I trust your skills. You do that, and I’ll—” He pointed a thumb at his back. “I’ll see about getting rid of these plants.”
He both felt and saw her surprise.
“Should they not heal of their own accord?”
“I can’t say. I’ve never had the stomach to find out what happens if I leave them alone to keep growing.”
She swallowed, tried not to look as sickened as he knew she felt. He could feel it clawing at the edges of her composure like nausea.
“Ah.”
“Exactly.”
Kai cleared her throat and, apparently deciding there was nothing else she could say that wouldn’t be exceedingly awkward, changed the subject.
“How long do you think it will take to cross the continent? Our ‘stop’ should be somewhere in the middle, as close as possible to the volcano.” She amended, “It was called Mount Dabaluin in my time. It may be called something else, and perhaps others have grown since, but…”
“Mount Topalawon,” Math said. “It still exists.”
“Brilliant. Then that shall be our target.” Her manner turned more guarded, more uncomfortable. Her emotions dimmed—sheathed, like a knife returned to its scabbard. She eyed him up and down, then looked away.
“I shall leave you to your privacy.”
“Kai.”
She turned back. “Yes?”
“If you come across any more food—” He gestured to the small amount she’d found. He was fine going without food for a few days; the plants made sure of it. He didn’t think Kai could say the same.
Her smile turned to genuine amusement. He felt it, light and fleeting.
“Not all the cargo on this train is of the inanimate variety. There are soldiers in the second carriage, horses in the third, and thus the provender for both in the fourth. I believe I should be able to find us something.”
“Be careful.”
Kai’s eyes met his. The bond hummed, quiet and even. No anger or shame, but a thread of wary understanding, drawn taut between them.
Slowly, she nodded.
She left him alone to pull his weeds in private.
The next two days were uncomfortable in the extreme. Not physically; Kai’s opinion on the ease of gathering food proved true, and they’d made a little nest for themselves in their crate fort.
No, the discomfort was entirely emotional, as both Math and Kai tried to navigate their feelings, and worse, did so in the company of someone who felt every swirl of passion, fear, or anxiety as though it were their own.
On the morning of the third day, they readied themselves for their leap from the train.
Except here, they ran into a different problem.
The train stopped. It didn’t do so in the traditional way, with a squeal of metal on metal as the brakes slowed the vehicle over a long period.
Rather, when the train stopped, it did so suddenly, and all at once.
Math found himself flung violently forward toward the front of the train, smashing face-first into the wall of wooden boxes.
Something hit him from behind. Something hard—probably the crate-turned-stepstool they hadn’t secured.
It didn’t matter though: even the secured crates slammed against each other, against him, the fastenings twisting and snapping.
His ears rang, his vision swam in spots.
The light spell he’d been using to illuminate their tiny refuge winked out the moment he smashed into the wall.
He couldn’t see anything, and was terrified to realize that he didn’t know if it was because of an injury or because he was buried under too much wreckage. He only knew it was dark, and nothing was moving now.
“What … what happened?” he gasped, although he couldn’t hear himself. He tried to conjure a light, but his hands shook too much.
He heard the sound of wreckage being moved.
Light dazzled his eyes, blinding in a different way.
Something tugged at his sleeve. He shook it off, but it returned a moment later.
Confused, disoriented, he swung his fist and was rewarded with the feel of an impact on flesh and a flash of pain that cut through the general panic he was feeling, he realized now, from multiple sources.
“Stop that!” Kai screamed above the roaring in his ears. Only, if the roaring was in his ears, how could she talk louder than it?
The sound, he realized, was only partly in his head. The rest was coming from outside.
He took a deep breath, almost vomited. He held the breath for a moment, trying to force his hands to stop shaking. Eventually, he circled a weak light.
Kai gasped. The little nest was devastated; crates had fallen, torn free of their moorings.
Some had emptied, some simply shattered.
Broken wood, twisted nails, the contents of several boxes formerly filled with small metal folding mess kits.
The ground was inches deep in what he could only refer to as “stuff,” too chaotic for identification.
He turned to Kai when he felt her shock and horror.
She was looking at him. Specifically, at his face.
He touched a hand to himself, felt something wet. As he pulled his hand back to look at it, he found himself suddenly terrified that the blood wouldn’t be red. That it would be black, or more specifically, a dark, forest green.
It was red.
“Thank the Tri-Mother,” he whispered, and then swayed. Sitting seemed like a fine idea, only to be outdone by lying down. Lying down was a stroke of genius.
Kaiataris slapped him, hard, across his untorn cheek. “No! You must not fall asleep. Do you not hear the noises outside? Something is happening, and we cannot stay.”
“Right,” he agreed numbly. Math desperately wanted to sit down and close his eyes, but she was right.
“Come, then.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him after her.
Leaving their crate fort wasn’t difficult, since it no longer existed. It was more a matter of shoving boxes across the angled floor—the sharply angled floor, which meant the carriage must have derailed.
Sadly, he suspected his vertigo was less to do with the angle of the floor than his concussion.
A sliding door on the side of the carriage had been ripped open, jagged metal twisted and sharp from where the slide on the ground had torn it asunder. They crawled through the gap and slithered through the dry dirt and gravel until they could stand again.