CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

 

Perhaps if he threw the transmitter hard enough at the wall, it’d repair itself. Nothing else seemed to work, anyway, and Andeal was ready to give up. The crash had destroyed the already used pieces and until Henry brought back the necessary tools and replacements, he could not fix their radio. Without it there’d be no more broadcasts, no build-up until they played Lenz’s recording. There’d be no recording at all.

He plopped down on the cold ground of their cavern’s floor and set his face in his palms. How did it always go south so quickly? He woke one morning with hope and determination, only to find himself despairing at the new odds by nightfall. First when they’d bombed Mount Kairn and tore Maniel away from him, then yesterday, when the zeppelin forced them to crash-land, crushed the antenna, and broke their transmitter. They’d abandoned the torn balloon, grabbing their rations and the essential radio parts before climbing into the mountain range surrounding Serenity. Tiny caves dotted their sides like thousands of ant holes and it hadn’t been difficult to find one to hide in. The adventure had given them fresh bruises, tearing a gash in Andeal’s leg right where the radio’s guards had shot him, but neither complained: they’d both made it out alive.

Then they’d tried to broadcast and the transmitter refused to start.

Andeal had cracked it open but quickly realized he could not repair it with his hands and he’d sent Henry into the city to find tools. Afternoon turned into night while the engineer played with the cables inside the transmitter, trying to solve the problem, then dawn came again. His eyelids threatened to shut at any moment, his wounded leg throbbed, he had no news of his friend and he was beginning to think he’d never have any.

This is it, he thought. End of the line. Without the broadcasts only a smattering of foolhardy men would dare travel to Reverence, and their hard work would be for naught.

Andeal gathered the smallest pieces and screws of the transmitter and stored them in a tiny bag, which he placed in his pocket alongside Henry’s recording. Then he gobbled down two of the painkillers he’d managed to salvage from their crash and settled against the wall. Perhaps he ought to sleep after all. He was no help if he couldn’t concentrate on the repairs.

He’d rested his head for a minute when he heard the loud barks of dogs. Andeal startled and scrambled to their cave’s exit. The sounds came from farther down the slope and he’d wager anything they were coming his way.

Union soldiers had tracked them from the crash site.

He couldn’t have more than ten minutes before they fell upon him. He ran back inside and shoved their supplies into a backpack, starting with Henry’s noodle packs. Andeal might mock his companion’s favorite food but the instant meals were light and small, good for travel. He added the recording and bag of screws to the lot, then threw a waxed coat above the transmitter and heaved it off the ground. Broken or not, he refused to leave it behind for the Union soldiers to find.

By the time he exited the cave, he could glimpse shadows moving through the trees below. He whispered a prayer to the Lady and hurried in the opposite direction. He’d need luck to get out of this alive.

The mountain track was narrow and treacherous, forcing Andeal to slow. He could not see his feet with the transmitter and took each step blindly. Whenever he could, he leaned against the stone walls flanking him to help his balance because if he slipped, his neck would join their ever-growing list of broken things.

Then his shoulder slipped into a crack. Andeal cried out as his body followed and he crashed to the ground, his heavy load crushing him. He’d fallen into a smallish cave, its opening barely large enough for him and the machine to pass through. As he lay on the ground, panting, Andeal thanked the Lady for listening. He could not outrun dogs while carrying the transmitter. This, however, was a perfect place to hide it. He left the device in the darkest corner and slipped back into the sunlight again, hoping the hounds would keep hot on his trail and never stop here.

This time he scrambled down the descent at full speed, half-jumping from one rock to another, his arms spread out. Every stride sent a shock into his knees and his teeth clattered together. As he reached the forest the slope lessened but branches slapped his face and forearms, leaving scratches and cuts. His lungs hurt with every breath, his wounded leg with every step. His heart pumped so loudly it rang in his ears, but the barks grew louder despite his efforts. He glanced behind and saw the men catching up to him.

As he turned back the trees gave way to an abrupt descent.

Andeal plunged with a surprised cry and tucked himself into a ball as he sped down the hill. He crashed through branches and bumped against rocks, rolling and rolling, every new bounce sending waves of pain through his body. A bough tore into his wound, ripped it open, and a trail of blood marked his path through the underbrush. He clung to his legs, eyes shut, one arm thrown over his head, when his shoulder clipped a dead trunk and he lost his grip. He stretched out and the twigs caught at his shirt and scratched his belly as he slid further down. He opened his eyes, trying to spot an end to his tumbling.

There was no flat ground ahead. Only a brusque vertical drop.

Panic swirled through Andeal and he grabbed at anything he could, tearing out ferns and lifting rocks. His course slowed, the gap grew closer. His feet went over the edge as his fingers closed around an anchored root, jerking him to a sudden stop. Andeal pulled himself back up and remained lying on the ground, panting. All his muscles ached, but his wounded leg throbbed harder than ever. He tried to stand but couldn’t muster the strength.

Loud barks gave him new energy.

He lumbered to his feet, silencing his pained body through sheer will, and hurried to the closest tree. There he grabbed the lowest branch and heaved himself up. Heavy steps crushed the undergrowth as they approached, led by the growling dogs. Andeal had time to climb two more branches before they came into sight. If the Lady allowed, they’d think he’d rolled over the edge and leave him for dead.

Two soldiers stopped under his tree, out of breath and patience. One towered well over six and a half feet and had such pure white-blonde hair he could only hail from Mikken. The second had come out of the small and stocky mold, complete with close-shaven brown hair and a weasel face. They observed in silence as their dogs—two lean hounds—sniffed at his blood puddles. Andeal leaned forward and prayed hard they’d come to the wrong conclusion.

“What a shame,” the weasel one said as he leaned over the edge. “I bet they’ll send us searching that river for body pieces.”

Below glittered the river that snaked through Serenity. It was narrower here than in the city and rushed through the mountains to eventually throw itself into the sea. Andeal couldn’t help but smirk: even had he fallen down, he might’ve survived, depending on the water’s depth. The jump surpassed the height of his frequent dives from the top of Mount Kairn with Maniel, but not by much.

“We should return to his cave and wait for the other. We can surprise him.”

The giant had a thick northern accent, confirming Andeal’s suspicions, but the knowledge brought him no comfort. They would wait for Henry and the poor man would have no chance to escape. The two dogs turned around his tree when the soldiers tugged on their leashes. One whined and kept pulling to stay. Andeal wanted to shoo him but remained motionless, holding his breath, staring at them.

A red drop of blood landed on the dog’s muzzle.

“What was that?” the Mikken soldier asked.

Andeal’s leg had bled throughout the men’s inspection of this ridge, dripping on his branch, then on the leaves under him and finally through the foliage and onto the dog. The engineer slapped a hand over it but his heart sank when the giant strode closer.

“Blood,” he said, then looked up. His eyes met Andeal’s just as the engineer jumped down upon him.

He’d counted on surprise to win a frontal assault and scramble away, but the soldier’s lips curled into a sneer. He dug his right foot in and crouched, then caught Andeal with both hands as he fell. The impact did not even stagger him, but it blew all breath out of the engineer’s lungs. The world spun as he was held aloft by this giant, struggling against the iron grip even though he couldn’t hope to match the man’s strength.

“Nice catch, Magnus. Seems our fish is squirming.”

“He’s blue.”

“Why yes. What a strange little rebel we’ve got here.”

Andeal shut his eyes and fought against the panic constricting his throat as they discussed his peculiar appearance. He tuned out their conversation, desperate for an escape plan, but no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts scattered. To Maniel and Seraphin, Henry and Vermen, and all those he’d met in the last years. But mostly, they went to the labs. To the empty cell, devoid of sunlight and regular meals. To cold nights curled against Maniel. To secondary effects that went from itches to diarrhea, numbness, or hallucinations. To Lenz, bent over in a deep cough, feverish, dying. To the helplessness, the certainty of endless tests, the crying need to end it all. He couldn’t do it again. Especially not alone. Better die than relive that hell.

Andeal’s breath quickened and he fought, scratching and kicking with all he had. Tears ran down his cheeks and every new hit from his leg sent waves of pain up it, but he kept going, on and on. The giant pushed him against a tree and backhanded him. Sparks flew before Andeal’s eyes. He fought harder. They hit him with another, stronger punch and knocked him out.

He came to a few minutes later, lying on the ground, the sun glaring. His stomach lurched and he rolled over, spilling his meager dinner at the two soldiers’ feet. Andeal wiped his mouth as the giant grabbed his shirt and forced him to stand. His dizziness grew worse and for a moment he thought he’d faint again, but the shifting ground stabilized.

“You done being stupid?” the smaller soldier asked. “Three of you couldn’t break out of Magnus’ hold.”

They tied plastic wraps around his wrists and set him against a trunk. Andeal let them handle him like a doll.

“We have questions,” Magnus said. “Where is your companion?”

“Somewhere.”

“Don’t play with us.”

“It’s as good an answer as any.”

When they rewarded him with a punch, Andeal folded forward. These two had no patience and were not to be played with. Or perhaps it was the other way around and they’d be funnier to provoke.

“Once again: where is he?”

Andeal leaned forward and his voice fell into a whisper. “Having tea with Galen Clarin.”

Magnus grabbed his chin and slammed him back against the trunk. Pain wracked his spine yet he couldn’t help but laugh. He was unlikely to have anything amusing happen for the remainder of his life and he intended to enjoy this pair’s growing anger as much as he could. His mirth brought frowns to their faces.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in,” the smaller one said. “There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Oh, no, I think I understand a lot better than either of you.” Their frowns deepened into scowls and a sudden thought crossed Andeal’s mind. He held back another fit of laughter and lifted his head to meet Magnus’ eyes. The giant’s large hand still held his throat firm. “You’re so proud to have caught me, but you’ll be the first to pay for it. Especially you.”

Magnus sneered. “Why?”

“This blue isn’t natural. It’s from another microbe Clarin created in his secret labs. It creeps into your skin cells, leeches off their resources, and produces the pigment as part of its life cycle. And it’s contagious.” Andeal looked down at Magnus’ arm, raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been touching me a lot.”

The giant released his grip and stepped back, eyes wide in horror. Andeal dashed to the side. Thirty feet to the edge with a limping leg. Possible, if they didn’t react fast.

A loud bang extinguished that hope. The bullet landed in the ground right in front of him, sending dirt flying and forcing him to skid to a stop. The second soldier had his weapon pointed straight at his heart. He took a victorious step forward.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere. You don’t scare me with your lies.”

“You just think you’re safe because you haven’t touched me. You’re intelligent enough to realize I wasn’t born with blue skin—in fact, you’ve probably seen the picture in the newspaper. You’ll have noticed how much younger I am in it and must’ve wondered why. Strange, isn’t it, that the one rebel without a recent picture is the one with blue skin? So maybe I don’t scare you, but it’s not because I’m lying. And you know it.”

As he spoke he strode forward once. The soldier’s gun didn’t waver but doubt crept into his expression. Andeal smirked. Then spat in the man’s face. The soldier gave a shriek and reached up to wipe the saliva away.

Andeal wished he could enjoy the terror he’d provoked longer. Instead he spun on his heels and scrambled for the cliff. Magnus let out a deep, outraged cry that contrasted with his partner’s shrill scream and cocked his gun.

The shot rang out as Andeal leapt into the gaping ravine. The bullet whizzed past him, inches away from his shoulder, then the rushing wind obliterated all other sounds. It snapped his loose shirt about, plunged into his leg wound and set it on fire, pushed at his muscles as he fought to stretch himself into a long diving position. The tied hands really didn’t help. The water closed in as he gritted his teeth for impact.

He might die. It’d still be a hundred times better than returning to the labs.

The cold water enveloped his body from fingertips to toes, compressing his bones and threatening to rip him apart. The outside world vanished above the waves, leaving only a dull buzz as pressure tightened around his skull and obscured his vision.