Chapter Sixteen
The Trail Burns Hot
Rygnar
The pass was narrow and steep, a ribbon of shale and frost threading through pines that clung to the rock by sheer will. We left the basin before dawn—five of us carrying shaped plasma charges to collapse the old mining road that led straight to the colony’s lower vents.
The air was thin, metallic. Every breath tasted like snowmelt and iron.
I led the line, my internal scanner mapping the slope as we moved. Behind me came Mara’s nephew Jalen with the detonation gear and three more from the defense team—Mesaarkans who had once been soldiers like me.
None of us spoke.
When the ridge turned west, we reached the old mining road. It looked harmless—just a curve of stone half-swallowed by time, tracks of ancient machinery buried under moss. But beyond that bend, it cut straight into a hollow that led directly to the hidden valley.
I crouched and pressed my palm to the ground.
The vibration came—faint, steady.
Engines.
“They’re closer than we thought,” Jalen said.
“Yes.” I studied the slope. “Two charges here. The rest we plant lower as a fallback.”
“Should we call the council?”
“Not yet. If they see the collapse, they may turn back. We need confirmation before we move the colony.”
We worked fast, cutting grooves into the rock and sliding the charges into place. The plasma cores hummed faint blue—contained lightning.
When I sealed the last housing, the vibration surged—engines climbing hard.
Jalen looked up. “They’re pushing fast.”
“Two minutes,” I said. “Arm them.”
The charge lights blinked red, then steady amber.
I checked the wind—southwest, carrying smoke away from the colony.
“Move.”
We scrambled down the slope, boots sliding on loose stone. The first crack of engines broke through the trees. I turned just long enough to catch sunlight flashing on metal—two trucks, armored in scrap, mounted guns bristling.
Raiders.
Human.
I signaled the team to cover their ears and triggered the detonator.
The mountain answered with thunder.
The blast tore through the pass, rock splitting open like ice under pressure. Dust and sound slammed into us, flattening the pines along the ridge. When it cleared, half the road was gone—a jagged scar where the raiders would have driven.
Smoke curled upward, thin and gray.
“Good work,” Jalen said.
“Not enough.”
The engines were still coming.
Through the clearing dust, one truck slewed sideways but held. The driver gunned the throttle, forcing it forward. The second reversed, skirting the far edge of the collapse.
“They’ll find another route,” Jalen said.
“Yes. The lower trail.”
Minutes. Maybe less.
“Get back to the colony,” I ordered. “Warn Veklan.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll slow them.”
Jalen hesitated. “That’s suicide.”
I checked my weapon charge. “Only if I’m slow.”
He swallowed, then nodded. “May the mountain hold.”
“It will. Go.”
They vanished into the trees.
I climbed higher along the ridge where the old mining rails bent toward the lower valley. The wind carried the scent of burning metal and oil. I settled behind a fallen log, steadied my aim, and watched.
The lead truck crawled over the broken edge, tires grinding stone. Through the scope, I saw faces—human, ragged, armed with scavenged Enclave weapons.
Not soldiers.
Predators.
The gunner scanned the tree line. His gaze passed over me.
I waited.
Then fired.
The rifle kicked. The gunner dropped.
Chaos followed—shouts, brakes, and one truck slamming into the other. I fired again, aiming low. A tire blew. The first vehicle lurched and went over the edge, crashing into the ravine below.
The second halted. Men jumped out, returning fire. Plasma bolts tore through the pines, bark exploding around me.
I rolled downslope, fired twice to drive them into cover, then triggered the final charge.
The ground jumped.
Rock cascaded, sealing the narrow path behind them.
Dust swallowed everything.
When it cleared, they were trapped—hemmed between a broken cliff and a fresh collapse.
For now.
I crouched in the smoke, heart steadying. The air stank of ozone and blood.
I keyed my comm. “Rygnar to Veklan. Collapse complete. Raiders contained. Some may attempt the south trail.”
Static crackled. “Understood. Scouts are moving. Return before the next front reaches you.”
“Copy.”
I didn’t move immediately.
Smoke thinned, revealing wreckage below—twisted metal, bodies, and flame.
Humans killing humans.
The war had ended.
Peace had not learned how to live here.
I turned away before the thought could take root.
By the time I reached the outer tunnels, dusk had begun to settle over the basin. Colony lights glimmered below—warm, alive.
The sight eased something in me.
Then replaced it with something heavier.
If they’d tracked the signal this far, they would try again.
Another route.
Another way in.
The lower valley. The trade tunnels. The vents.
Lina.
I quickened my pace.
At the perimeter gate, I exchanged a few clipped words with the sentries, then headed straight for the medical wing. Mara stood inside, directing volunteers as they prepared emergency kits.
“She’s with you?” I asked.
Mara shook her head. “She went to the upper terraces. Helping move supplies. Said she’d be back before sunset.”
“She won’t.”
The words came automatically—and then I stopped.
The rain hadn’t started.
The air was still.
Too still.
Mara saw it in my face. “What is it?”
I reached for my sidearm.
“They found another way.”
Then I was running.
Boots striking stone. Breath steady. Pulse rising.
One word driving everything.
Lina.