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The trio rose before dawn. The forest turned to gold as they worked, the bare branches of the trees bathed in the light of a rising sun. It lent a warm glow to the crisp air, spurring them on as they struggled to rid the Floater of the water that had pooled inside. Dry and refreshed, Gavin felt that the day’s journey began on a much more pleasant note than their frantic escape the day before. They continued eastward, keeping to the gully until the land evened out again. Gavin had a general idea of where they were heading, though he had only ever travelled along the road in this part of the country. This part of Thistlewood boasted an entirely different set of flora and fauna than that found in the area around Solara. The trunks rose high into the air, thick and straight with smooth bark, before spreading into thick branches that intertwined amongst their neighbors like a thatched roof high above their heads. Before them the massive trees extended as far as the eye could see.
Onyx’s brow furrowed as she scanned the forest. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you question me on my sense of direction?”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as she turned around to look behind them, her expression anxious.
“You’re right,” Onyx admitted, settling back down into her seat. “I don’t.”
Gavin had seen Onyx at her lowest, when she withered away beside the window, staring blankly into the distance. He had seen her at her angriest, regarding the deaths of her enemies with cold indifference. He had seen her happy, excited, and focused. But this Onyx, worried and uncertain, this was a side of her he was unfamiliar with.
Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps losing Felix all over again had been too much for her. How much heartache could one person endure before it destroyed them?
“I think this is right,” Ollie was unusually subdued. Gavin had begun to think that the young man was afraid of triggering Onyx’s wrath. “I’m from Levandire, originally. I’ve only lived in Imradia for a few years, since joining the CEDAR program. These trees used to thrive there.”
“Used to?”
“Yes,” Ollie agreed. “I’ve seen pictures. But Levandire is a port city, the first line of defense during the Great War. The Elder Council ordered the trees cut down, expanding the city’s defensive wall and using the lumber for huge factories to manufacture weapons for the army.” When Ollie stopped speaking Gavin glanced back and saw that his face had scrunched into a troubled frown. “I bet it was beautiful, though. It probably looked a lot like this.”
“It did.” Gavin’s words slipped out before he could stop himself. He’d seen for himself what Levandire had been like, before they’d sacrificed its beauty for the sake of survival. Thankfully, Ollie did not press him for details. They were all much too tired.
The forest stretched on for a long time, and it was late afternoon before the trees began to thin. Onyx sat up straighter as the tree line came into view. They stopped the Floater well short, walking to the edge to take a look around.
They’d come to a wide, well-travelled road. Though Floaters were a symbol of the great wealth and prestige of the White City, there were many more common forms of travel utilized by other, smaller cities and towns. This was a simple gravel road, marred by the tracks of a half-dozen different types of vehicles. Gavin saw no sign of movement in either direction. They took to the Floater once more.
“We’re going to take the road?” Onyx asked.
“Yes. We’re nearly there, and the road curves away from the trees up ahead, just like Ollie said. Everything around Levandire’s been converted to farmland. We won’t be able to hide in the forest any longer, there are only fields between us and our destination now.”
As they rode on, Onyx’s unease began to affect him. The first few times she looked back over her shoulder, he thought she might be turning to speak with Ollie. It soon became apparent that this was not the case.
“Will you stop that? You’re starting to make me anxious.”
“I’m sorry.” She stopped herself mid-turn. “But you are sure no one is following us?”
Gavin sighed. “Why would anyone be following us, Onyx? We came through the forest. Nero has no idea where we are. There aren’t enough Envicti in Imradia to patrol every road in the country.”
“I suppose. But you said yourself that Nero will be heading this way. I just have a bad feeling.”
That, more than anything else, gave Gavin pause. He had learned from experience to trust Onyx’s instincts. He scanned the horizon. Lush farmland gave way to rolling hills in the distance. There was nowhere for them to hide, much less somewhere to stash the gleaming white Floater. “All right,” he said, “let’s get off the road.”
“Uh, guys?” Ollie’s voice was nervous now. “We aren’t alone.”
Gavin turned around and cursed under his breath. In the far distance he could see something coming down the road. Large and black. They were a sitting duck out here, a bright target signaling their presence like a beacon. “Onyx, get in the back with Ollie, and both of you keep your heads down.”
“Why?”
He grimaced, but his expression was enough to make Onyx comply with his request. Gavin knew what he had to do, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Reaching under the steering controls, Gavin pulled at the lip of the panel covering the wiring.
“What are you doing?” Ollie asked. “Do you need help?”
“No,” Gavin grunted as the panel came away. He felt along the wires with his fingers, gauging their size and position without seeing. “I’m going to use a little trick I learned during military training. We had to learn how to break down Floaters and put them back together again. It was supposed to be good experience if anything ever went wrong on the road. Only—ah, here we go.”
He’d found the wire he’d been seeking. Thick and covered in a textured coating, it was impossible to mistake for anything else.
“Only what?” Onyx pressed.
“Only we spent most of the time just trying to mess around with things. A few of us figured out that these things have speed inhibitors.”
He jiggled the wire, trying not to loosen any others inadvertently. “Because they’re damn hard to control when they’re going too fast. You have to compensate manually for all the dips and bumps because the sensor relays are too slow to keep up. One miscalculation and you’re doing a nosedive into the ground and getting thrown twenty yards end over end before being smashed by the Floater you just trashed in the process.”
“This sounds like a bad idea,” Ollie remarked.
“It is.” Gavin had managed to work the wire free from the trunk of the control column. “But it’s the only one I’ve got, unless you have any other suggestions?”
Neither of his passengers had any argument.
“Once we’ve got those hills between us and them we’ll have time to think of a better plan.”
“Hang on,” said Ollie, his head appearing beside Gavin’s, his brow furrowed skeptically. “You mean those tiny little hills way off on the horizon? Just how fast do you think this thing—”
Gavin depressed the accelerator. “Here we go!”
Ollie tumbled backward into Onyx with a yelp of surprise. The wind nearly blinded Gavin as the Floater zipped forward and he had to struggle to keep his eyes open as bugs and tiny bits of dirt hit the windshield, many shooting up and over to collide in quick succession with his face. He had only an instant to bemoan the poor design of the shield, too short to offer protection for the average Theran, before he forced his focus back to the road ahead. They flew forward, Gavin matching the slopes and sudden dips with the precision and reflexes bestowed upon him by a lifetime of training. The hills were growing larger. Once they were close enough he would be able to slow down.
His jaw clenched as the control column vibrated in protest.
“Almost there. We should be okay if we make it that far.”
“If?” gasped Ollie in alarm.
“When. When we make it.”
The Floater wobbled dangerously as his hand jerked, the subtle movement amplified by the reckless speed of the vehicle. He readjusted as he tried to process what he’d seen behind them in that fleeting glimpse. A caravan was approaching, and several smaller vehicles had broken away from the group.
“Are they gaining on us?”
“Yes!” Onyx had to shout over the whistling of the air around them. “Cyclers. I count... eight. They’re closing the gap.”
Gavin groaned. Cyclers were smaller than Floaters, large-wheeled vehicles designed to hold two; a driver and a shooter. They were used to protect and escort important people or cargo, and they were a lot faster than a Floater. Triangular in shape and low to the ground, their three tires offered stability at high speeds that Gavin couldn’t hope to match, even with the inhibitor disabled. Despite their head start, Gavin doubted they had more than a few minutes before the Cyclers caught up.
“Any more brilliant ideas?” Onyx shouted. “They’re still gaining, so think fast.”
The hills loomed before them, closer every second. Gavin knew that even if they made it that far the Cyclers would just split up and check any obvious hiding places. Still, maybe they’d have a chance against fewer opponents...no, that wouldn’t work. The others would converge on them once they were discovered. But then what else could they do?
“Slowing down. Hold on.”
He felt the force of Ollie’s body collide with the back of his seat as they decelerated, the Floater whining and bucking beneath them. The road curved just ahead, disappearing between two hills. He followed it, chancing a glance behind him that caused his stomach to give a lurch as he made eye contact with one of the drivers. They were close.
He saw the shooter raise his crossbow. In seconds, the Floater would be out of their line of sight.
They did not have seconds.
“Down!” Gavin shouted, hoping that Onyx had seen the threat, too.
They entered a narrow gully surrounded by sheer cliffs carved out long ago to construct the roads. The same instant, the crossbow bolt made contact with the spot where Ollie’s head had been only moments before. There was no time to marvel at the skills of the bowman though, as the instinctive desire to protect Onyx had caused Gavin to overcompensate. The Floater was careening out of control, and they needed to get out.
There was no time to be cautious. Onyx pulled herself from her hiding place, dragging Ollie up by the collar and shouting in his ear, “Tuck and roll!” She tossed him unceremoniously over the side.
Onyx glanced at Gavin, who nodded. He’d be right behind her. A second later, she’d leapt from the vehicle. Gavin followed suit.
The earth rose up to meet him even as he tucked his head into a protective position, rolling and skidding violently against the rough gravel. It tore at him, but he paid it no heed. He listened instead as the Floater crashed headlong into the rocky face of the hill ahead, heard the sound of falling boulders triggered by the impact. When he came to a stop he stood as quickly as he dared, vertigo threatening to topple him back to the ground.
“Gavin!”
Onyx’s voice rang out from behind him. He looked toward the spot where the Floater had been, now covered in a heap of rubble. The crumpled back end was just visible beneath the rockslide, a white blotch beneath a great gray mass.
He looked back as Onyx reached him, grabbing his hand and tugging. She had a limping Ollie by the arm. Blood ran down the side of her face in streaks and the right side of her shirt was now a ragged collection of torn cloth strips, dirt and gravel mingling with the angry red gashes on her exposed flesh. It was ugly, portions of it looking more like tenderized meat than anything else. “We have to hurry. We need to hide!”
Instinct kicked in and Gavin felt himself running, all three of them racing around the bend in the road. They were no match for Cyclers, but if their pursuers stopped to examine the crash site for long enough, maybe—just maybe—they could find a place to disappear.
They emerged from the gully on the opposite side and Gavin could see Levandire in the distance. They’d never make it that far on foot without being spotted, but there were trees here, at least. Not a forest, but individual trees with wide trunks and small groves dotting the landscape between rows of crops. They made for the nearest of these groves, stopping only once they’d concealed themselves from the road.
“I don’t think that will buy us much time,” Gavin warned, wincing as he regarded the backs of his hands. They were raw and bleeding, specks of gravel ground into his flesh. But he’d dealt with far worse. “If they stop long enough to inspect the wreckage they’ll figure out we weren’t in there when it hit.”
“I know,” Onyx agreed. “But it’s better than nothing. Come on. We can rest when we’ve found the Weaver.”
“No, wait.”
Gavin pulled her down, motioning back toward the wreck. A few of the Cyclers had reached it and several of the riders had dismounted, poking half-heartedly at the rubble. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but as they returned to their vehicles he breathed a silent sigh of relief. It appeared that the three of them had just been presumed dead.
The Cyclers stayed near the wreckage, idling as they waited for the slower moving transports to catch up.
Large and lumbering, the transports appeared several long minutes later. Ollie was whimpering at Gavin’s side but he did not offer words of comfort. He was transfixed by the sight of the caravan as it moved steadily toward the city, once again being escorted by the Cyclers. Gavin wondered if the Weaver was on one of those trucks, though it was doubtful. It was much more likely that the Weaver was in the city somewhere, and that this was just a second wave.
He counted ten transports, each capable, he knew, of carrying twenty-five soldiers.
“Those must be troops for the fleet.” Ollie’s guess was unnecessary—Gavin had figured as much.
“Just how many ships are there?” asked Onyx, keeping her head low.
“I don’t know,” Ollie replied. “A lot, I guess.”
Onyx and Gavin exchanged a look. “Are we too late?”
“There’s no way to know for certain,” said Gavin. “But we can’t give up hope. Not until we know for sure.”
“Only one way to find out!” Ollie forced a brave smile onto his dirty, bloodstained face.
“Right.” Onyx stood as the last transport moved off. “Let’s go.”
Keeping out of sight of the caravan was tricky and slow, but they managed. And in their current state Gavin was certain that none of them were up for much of a faster pace anyway. Once all of the vehicles were within the city limits, lost behind the tall buildings and city walls, they were able to move more freely.
“How will we find him?” Onyx asked, looking around as they entered the enormous city gate. Why it was unguarded was a mystery that Gavin did not have the energy to ponder. “It’s no Imradia, but it’s still huge. We can’t exactly go door-to-door.”
“No, but just like Imradia, there are safehouses here,” Gavin explained. He looked to Ollie. “Would you be able to find us one?”
Ollie looked shocked, then recovered. His eyes shone with pride at the idea of being useful for the team. “Sure!”
“We need to be cautious,” Onyx warned him. “If Nero’s having tiny penal villages raided, it’s possible he’s already turned this place upside down searching for Tapestry insurgents.”
Ollie gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Onyx. I’ll keep you safe.”
Gavin snorted as he caught sight of her incredulous expression. Then he nodded to Ollie. “Lead the way.”
Their ragged appearance made any chance of attempting to appear normal impossible. If they were spotted, they were done. They stuck to back alleys and tiny streets, skirting around open windows and keeping to the shadows like scavenging animals.
Levandire did not share the ostentatious grandeur that had earned Imradia its fame. The buildings were large, but they were built in a more traditional way. The homes had an organic feel to them, the larger metal framed factories easy to spot over the flat housetops. The common areas were home to lovingly tended gardens and ornamental trees, beautiful quartz fountains and shaded seating where a weary traveler could stop to rest and enjoy the scenery. It reminded Gavin more of Solara than of Imradia, on a much grander, and more complex, scale.
One building in particular stood out, towering eight stories above any of the others. This, Gavin knew, was the military facility where Nero’s ships were being manufactured. The hulking behemoth of a factory stretched out along the northern border of Levandire.
Ollie stopped at the end of a long alley, looking in both directions, his face uncertain.
“What’s the matter?” Gavin asked, coming up alongside him. “Are we lost?”
“No. It’s just that...my parents’ house is that way. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
Onyx made an exasperated sound. “Unless your mother is a part of the safe house network, this isn’t the time for a visit.”
Ollie looked somewhat hurt. “I—no. She’s not. She didn’t approve of my joining Tapestry. Not after what happened to my father. She doesn’t want to be involved.”
He gazed that way for a moment longer. Then, “Come on.”
He turned the corner and walked briskly to a nondescript door, Onyx and Gavin close on his heels. Ollie knocked three times, waited, then knocked once more.
There was a long moment during which Gavin feared no one was there, but then he heard footsteps approaching from inside. There was the sound of a bolt sliding back and then the door opened just a crack.
“What is it you seek?” came a distrustful voice from just inside. Only a sharply pointed nose and a single blue eye were visible through the crack.
Ollie cleared his throat before responding in a hushed tone, “Only the truth which is woven into the fabric of the universe,” he breathed reverently, perhaps the first time he had ever had the opportunity to use the Tapestry passphrase himself. The door opened wide and the man peered down the street in both directions before gesturing for them to come in.
“My name is Cyril.” The young man’s tone was haughty, and Gavin took an instant disliking to him. “Sweet Evenmire, you all look awful. What happened to you?”
“We were in a Floater,” Ollie began, “And—”
“And we’d rather not talk about it,” Gavin finished for him, looking around. “Thank you for letting us in. Is there a place where we could get cleaned up?”
“Certainly.” Cyril gestured down the hall. “Just down there.”
“Thank you again,” Gavin said. “I’m Gavin.”
He took a towel from Cyril’s outstretched hand before inclining his head toward Onyx. “And this is Onyx. We need your help.”
“Gavin...” Cyril’s mouth fell open. “The Gavin? Ex-Envicti and coleader of Tapestry? Sweet Evenmire...” Cyril looked as though he might faint. “And Onyx? As in, the Onyx who worked on—”
“And this is Ollie,” Gavin interjected.
Cyril hardly acknowledged Ollie’s presence with a quick glance. “Yes, we’ve met.” Then he looked at Gavin again and opened his mouth to continue.
Onyx cut his next words off so sharply that Ollie gave her a startled, curious look. “We need to know how to get inside the military factory.”
“Inside the...b-but why?” stuttered Cyril, still gaping. “It’s just not possible.”
Gavin felt a momentary jolt of disappointment. Or perhaps it was the sting of the wet towel against his ravaged shoulder.
“Nothing’s impossible.” Onyx’s face was set as she leaned over a basin and poured water over her arm. If it hurt, she didn’t show it. Gavin watched as she tore the ragged cloth of her sleeve away, revealing the rash of small abrasions beneath. “Difficult, maybe, but not impossible.”
Cyril was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but our people in the factory went dark almost a month ago. It’s locked down tighter than ever before, they’ve even brought in troops from Imradia to help keep it under guard.”
Gavin sighed. “It’s the same there. Nero’s cut us off at every turn. What good is a clandestine network if there’s no way to reach anyone inside?” His fist clenched, squeezing the towel so hard that red-tinged droplets appeared between his fingers, sliding over his knuckles and falling to the floor. He thought about Kestrel, wondered if she’d made it to her destination in time to save anyone. They could really use some backup right about now. Would she be here soon? Unlikely—thanks to him.
“We know he’s in there,” Onyx said. “That has to count for something.”
“Who’s in there?” asked Cyril.
“The Weaver,” supplied Ollie. “Nero has him.”
“The Weaver?” Cyril ignored Ollie to address Onyx instead. “The Weaver is here in Levandire?”
“Yes. He was captured in Imradia and transported here.”
Cyril glanced around anxiously, as if expecting someone unwelcome to overhear. He seemed too nervous for this type of a position. The lofty idea of being a safe house had probably appealed more on a theoretical level than a practical one. Gavin gave him a critical once over. He appeared young, around Ollie’s age. He lacked any real-world experience, that was for sure. His wiry blond hair was cropped short, and he had a round face that did little to offset his narrow, sharp nose. He had greeted them with an almost pompous demeanor, as if prideful about his position in Tapestry. At the mention of their names, however, he had done a one-eighty. He kept brushing off his sleeves self-consciously and looking around to make sure nothing was out of place. He’d probably never opened his home up to battered and bruised comrades before, let alone two as well-known as Onyx and himself. Gavin regretted giving Cyril their real names and felt a twinge of bitterness at the way he kept brushing off Ollie. Gavin had spent so long as a nobody in the quaint, secluded village of Solara that he’d forgotten that within Tapestry’s ranks he was viewed as something of a hero.
He hated it. Hated the attention and the title. He was no hero.
“How often have the transports been arriving?” Gavin was eager to hear something he could use to their advantage.
“Every few days. Several of us have attempted to get inside during the offloading, but each truck is scoured top to bottom before being allowed entry and scoured again on egress. No one is getting in or out that way.”
Gavin thought long and hard, tuning out the whimpers of Ollie as he plucked gravel from his flesh and the chastisement of Onyx as she helped him. He centered himself, considering every fact they had, undeterred by the lack thereof.
When he opened his eyes, he found three faces staring intently at him.
“There’s no way we can sneak in,” Gavin pronounced, and Ollie’s face fell. “And there’s no way to sneak someone out.”
Onyx scowled. “There has to be a way,” she argued. “We didn’t come this far to—”
“There is a way,” Gavin said. “It just doesn’t involve sneaking.”
“What is it?” Ollie said, eyebrows raised in eager anticipation. “I want to help. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. Count me in!”
“You’re going to help, all right,” Gavin said, turning away from them and walking to the window. He drew back the curtain, looking out onto the dark, empty street. “And you’re going to get caught.”