0 grams flash dust
DRAM STARES AT me like he’s looking for signs of flash fever.
“Look at it.” I point to the diagram that shows a hoverfield surrounded by Strider barracks. “We’ve escaped to the Congress’s military compound.” We study the words on the page, as if they’ll make better sense the longer we look at them.
“What do you think an ‘Inquiry Module’ is?”
I shake my head. There’s no picture on the map, just dire warnings to avoid them.
“So we may have to fight our way to the city?” he asks.
“Or we go back and find out what the flashtide is.” Even now, my muscles shake from holding this cramped position. If we don’t go now, I won’t have any strength left for whatever’s on the surface.
Dram looks down at the darkness beneath our narrow tube of dirt. There is nothing in that direction but death.
When he meets my eyes, I’m wearing my resolve like armor. He nods.
We set our hands to the tunnel cover and push.
Using Dram’s hand for leverage, I slide up through the narrow passage. A tangle of weeds and underbrush covers our exit. A hand seizes hold of me.
“Don’t speak,” a young man commands softly. Kohl lines his eyes, and his shaggy brown hair hangs past his ears. He draws me from the tunnel and guides me behind a wall before lifting Dram free and tamping the cover into place with his boot. I watch the man throw his back against the wall alongside us. Silver rings span his fingers, and he wears more pendants than I do. The knotted green sash at his waist jingles with tiny charms when he leans to peer around the corner.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
“Bade Imber,” he says. “And you, Subpar?”
“Orion,” I breathe.
“You’re charmed Congress didn’t pick up your movement,” he says in his thick Conjie accent.
I stare at him, trying to make sense of his words.
“Get down!” he whispers.
A hovering metal machine whirs by. It hangs above the place we emerged, and a light, like a caver’s headlamp, radiates from beneath it.
Bade draws his hand from his pocket, cradling a bit of dirt. He opens his fingers and a flame flares to life. My breath stops. I watched Roran conjure stone, but I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.
“We’re slayed if it finds you.” He angles his hand, like he’s preparing to throw the fireball.
The machine pivots slowly, and I realize it’s a miniature hover with a glass viewing shield in front. It glows from within, illuminating an empty containment capsule lined with metal clamps and arms.
Fear penetrates my haze of shock. I thought nothing could be worse than the cordons. Perhaps this side of the shield offers no refuge, after all. The machine’s light clicks off, and it skims by, silent as a breath.
“I think that’s an ‘Inquiry Module,’” I whisper to Dram.
“Forget the machine,” he says. “What the hell is he?”
Bade stretches his hand, and the flame dissolves. “Free Conjie.”
“You can make fire?”
A cocky grin lifts Bade’s lips. “It’s a rare talent.”
“I thought you couldn’t conjure anything this close to the curtain.”
“Not in this dirt,” he says. “Too much cirium. But my pockets are filled with the earth of the provinces, and it’s very much alive.”
“How did you know we were coming?” I ask.
“You set off a beacon when you entered that tunnel. One of ours.”
“Bade!” A woman runs from the shadows. “They caught Vale and Asher—” Her words break off when she sees us. “You got them in time. Good.”
Her beauty is startling, her green eyes so intense they seem unreal. Gem, my mind shouts, but she’s dressed like Bade and speaks with his accent. And her arm doesn’t bear a Codev, but a woven metal cuff that matches his.
The woman studies Dram with equal intensity. “Bade,” she murmurs, “look at his face.”
Bade narrows his eyes on Dram. “Who are you?”
“Dram Berrends.”
“Fire, he’s Arrun’s son!” she says.
“My father,” Dram says, “he’s alive?”
“He was before the Striders found us.”
Arrun’s alive. I glance at Dram.
“How do you know my father?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“He leads the resistance,” she says. “We were on a scouting mission, tracking the—”
“Enough, Aisla. This could be a trick,” Bade says. “Congress could be using them—”
“It’s not a trick.” Aisla lifts Dram’s green memorial pendant in her hand.
Bade’s eyes widen. “You two are the first Subpars to find your way here in years. There’s a lot to explain, but there isn’t time now—we’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Striders coming,” Aisla says.
Soldiers march past, herding two Conjurors toward a small craft. I stare at the Conjies’ hands. They’re covered in mesh gloves that look like woven links of cirium.
“Binders,” Bade whispers, following my gaze. “Keeps them from conjuring until Congress can Temper them.” He glances at Aisla. “Can you fly the Skimmer?”
“Yes,” she answers.
“I’ll provide cover and get Vale and Asher. You lead the Subpars on.” They share a conversation in a glance. I feel like I’m watching Reeves and Lenore outside tunnel nine. He reaches into his pockets, and his hands come away streaming dirt.
Aisla draws a gun. “Follow me.” She springs forward, clearing a path as we sprint for the craft.
Fireballs blast past us, taking down Striders one by one. All at once, the ground erupts and thick vines burst up through the dirt, weaving a tight screen that shields us as we run.
Dram leaps into the winged craft, and I follow, clambering into the cargo space.
“Where are we going, exactly?” Dram asks.
“To the mountain provinces, but I’m gonna try to lose them in the curtain first.” Aisla dives into the cockpit and flips switches above her head. The sound of turbines whines through the air, and the engines rumble to life. “Clear the door. I’m sealing her up.”
Bullets spray the side of the craft, and I drop down, pressing my body flat. Vale and Asher leap inside, and Bade slips through just before the hatch closes.
“Get moving, Aisla!” he shouts.
Sirens erupt from the compound.
The hover lifts, and Bade grasps Dram’s arm. “Your sister—is she still in Outpost Five?”
“You could say that,” Dram replies, an edge to his voice.
“Lenore died,” I say.
Bade drags a hand over his face. The sounds of the engines roar around us. “You should know,” he says, loud enough to be heard, “your father never stopped trying to get you out—to free everyone trapped in the flashfall. That beacon you set off was his design.”
“My dad was just a caver. A marker,” Dram says.
“He’s more than that, Subpar. Strap these on.” Bade tosses us each a harness and pack and ducks into the cockpit. “Follow their lead.” He nods to the other Conjies pulling on gear.
“What are these?” I call.
An older man grins. “Parachutes.” He hands me a large wrist monitor. “Altimeter. Pull the cord at six hundred meters.”
The craft streaks into the air. Cirium shields slide over the windows.
“Hold tight,” Bade calls through the ship’s intercom. “This won’t be smooth.”
I think of the hover rides I’ve had and tighten my grip. The Skimmer climbs, and I catch myself against the side of the hold.
“I’m taking us up,” Aisla says. “We need as much altitude as possible before we stall out in the curtain.”
“Hang on tight,” Bade says. “Curtain’s gonna rob our power for a sec—”
His voice cuts off, and we plunge into darkness. Emergency lights come to life, bathing us in blue light. The ship wobbles, like it’s not sure which side it wants to drop toward.
“Pull yourselves to the hatch,” the Conjie beside me says. “Hurry!”
We move toward the back of the ship, our hands wrapped in the net along the sides. The Skimmer plunges and dives, and we make our way, hand over hand, to the hatch.
“Prep your chutes,” Bade says. “I’m going to fire a pulse blast to shake them off our tail.”
Vibration rumbles up through the floor of the craft, so loud that I feel it rattling my bones. Dram hauls me to my feet and checks my harness. My hands shake too hard to fasten the altimeter.
“I’ve got it,” he says, securing the band around my wrist. A thundering boom shakes the Skimmer. He guides me to the floor, and we weave our arms through the net.
The lights flicker back on.
“Still on us,” Aisla says. “I’m gonna try to lose them. Hold tight!”
I can’t possibly hold tighter than I already am. The ship climbs so fast, the force presses me to the floor with the weight of a cordon shard. Beside me, Dram groans. I feel like someone’s stepping on my stomach—then suddenly the pressure eases and we plummet.
Dram and I grip the net as our bodies fly upward. I use every ounce of strength I have to hang on; the force of the pull wants to rip me free and plaster me against the ceiling. My eyes tear, and the pressure builds until I can’t take a breath without effort.
“Lost them!” Aisla announces breathlessly. The ship levels out, and I gasp for breath on the floor of the hold, arms shaking.
“Flash. Me.” Dram mutters.
The hatch grinds behind us, opening slowly.
“Don’t get too close,” Bade says. “Don’t want you falling out till it’s time.”
I squint my eyes at the widening space. It’s …
“Sky.” I scramble across the hold and clutch the net by the hatch. It opens fully, like a window over a world I’m seeing for the first time.
“Flash. Me.” I whisper.