Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 (8 page)

“Morningside?” said Haiku.

“Yes,” Wren answered.

“To the Weir?”

“Yes.”

Haiku looked to jCharles, then to Mol, then back to Wren again. “... Morningside?”

Wren just nodded.

“When was this?” Haiku asked.

“Three days ago.”

“To the Weir?” Haiku repeated. “I don’t understand. Morningside has stood for decades. It would take hundreds of Weir to overthrow it.”

“Thousands,” Chapel said from across the room.

Haiku’s brow creased slightly, a look of doubt he probably did not intend to express openly. But Chapel nodded.

“Well. It wasn’t
just
the Weir,” said Wren. “Not exactly.” And in saying it, he knew he would have yet another story to tell. He was tired. Weary, deep into his bones. But the story wanted telling.

“After... after all that,” he said, “all the things I told you today. The people made me Governor. Because I was Underdown’s son, and because of what I’d done to my brother. I guess they thought I could protect them, the way Underdown had.”

Wren went quickly, sparsely, through the history. Not like before, when he’d told it all in the utmost detail he could recall. Now, it was just the barest sketch of events. Fifteen minutes in the telling, twenty maybe. The council, his personal guards, the attempt on his life. Underdown’s machine. Haiku listened intently, watched with eyes hard and piercing. He didn’t write any of it down.

“My brother. Asher. I thought he had died, but I was wrong.”

Wren went on to tell Haiku of his discovery at Ninestory, his return to Morningside, its turmoil, and its ultimate fall. But most of all about Asher, its conqueror. His brother. Mind of the Weir.

“And Chapel brought me here,” he finished. He tried not to think about Mama too much. The strange stillness hadn’t yet left him, but thoughts of her were too close to the tempest that churned beyond it. He feared any movement towards those raging winds.

Haiku sat motionless for a span. Behind his eyes, Wren could see him processing all he’d just heard. To the man’s credit, he didn’t seem to be rejecting it outright. Finally, he spoke.

“What you’ve told me is nearly too much to comprehend,” Haiku said. “If all you say is true, our world has changed in dire ways.” His gaze dropped to the table, and he was lost in his own thoughts for a few moments more. Then, he looked up at Wren again.

“This brother of yours, Asher,” Haiku said. “He...
controls
the Weir?”

Wren nodded. “Not all of them. But some of them. A lot of them.”

“And what does he intend to do with them?”

“I don’t know,” Wren said. “I don’t know what he wants or what he’s trying to do. I never have. But he’ll come for me. Wherever I am. Some day.”

“But you have stopped him before–” Haiku began, and Wren knew where he was headed.

“No,” Wren interrupted. “He’s too strong. He’s so strong now.” The memory of his struggle within the machine flashed through his mind, with its terrifying strain, the feeling that Asher was pulling him apart, the sudden blackness. “I think maybe he could have killed me, if he’d wanted to. I know he could have. But he wasn’t ready for that yet.”

Haiku sat back in his chair and though his eyes remained on Wren, Wren could tell the man wasn’t really looking at him. He was lost deep in his own thoughts. Searching. Calculating.

Wren’s heart started to race again, and the room was too bright, too loud, too hot. He felt sweat on his forehead, though his hands and feet were ice cold. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, like Mama had taught him, but it was a losing battle. The emotional toll of the day was coming due, and Wren knew he couldn’t take any more.

“I don’t feel so good,” he said, looking to Mol, knowing she would be the first and strongest ally. “I need to go back to bed.” He didn’t even wait for a response, he just got up from the table. Mol made some reply, but Wren didn’t catch it and didn’t feel like turning around. There was panic rising; pure, unfiltered panic at the thought of Asher, out there, always out there, always pursuing. Unbound. Unlimited. Unstoppable.

“Wren,” came Haiku’s voice. But Wren kept heading for the bedroom.

“Wren,” Haiku called again, and this time his voice was more powerful; not louder, but full of authority. Wren couldn’t help but respond. He stopped and glanced back. Mol was standing and jCharles was still sitting. Both of them looked concerned and like they had no idea what to do. Haiku alone looked calm. He was turned partway around in his chair to face Wren.

“I know a man who might be able to help,” he said.

“Me too,” Wren said reflexively, the memory of Three still strong. “But he’s dead.”

Haiku seemed to read his thoughts.

“Not Three,” he replied. The barest hint of a smile touched his eyes. “The man who trained him.”

T
he wayhouse was cramped
and stifling, with a dampness to the air that made everything feel too close. They had waited out their time on the roof and a little more with no sign of any trailing Weir, and afterwards, Gamble had led Cass and Sky back to this latest hiding place. Now, Cass sat on the floor, leaning against the front wall closest to the lone entrance. This particular wayhouse had been built to hold four, maybe five comfortably. They’d managed to pack twelve into the space. The smell of sweat and blood and fear floated thick, almost nauseating. Cass was reminded too much of old haunts; the chem-dens where she used to buy quint, where burnouts lay on dirty mattresses or amongst stained blankets, oblivious to the dank reality around them. She let her eyes float around the room, surveying without any particular intent.

From the look of it the place had been a hasty add-on, wedged in the narrow space between two existing structures and just below street level. It was only one large room, or two if you counted the closet-sized washroom as its own. A flimsy, rubberized curtain hung on a rail and served as the divider between the bunks and the rest of the space. For now, it was pulled back. The ceiling was low, maybe six feet high, and there were no windows, no vents. In one corner of the ceiling was the only entrance: a round, rusted steel-rimmed porthole with a spot-welded ladder through it. Clambering down into the wayhouse had felt to Cass very much like climbing into a grave. She still hadn’t completely shaken that sense. The main lights were all off, and a single red emergency light cast the room in a sinister hue.

The others had been here long enough now that the initial wave of energy and emotion had passed. Cass had missed that part, but she could imagine it. The overwhelming relief, the shock of survival, the guilt. But they’d been here a few hours and now, though a few slept, mostly the rest just sat in stunned silence. Gamble had put them on tight noise discipline, so there was hardly any conversation, save the occasional hushed whisper. One man, Cass didn’t know who he was, sobbed softly in the corner. No one tried to comfort or quiet him.

They were all wounded, dirty, exhausted. They’d hardly had time to process their losses, and none at all to grieve them. Though she’d never had time to count them, Cass guessed they’d had around thirty people altogether during their flight from Morningside, holed up in that tiny building to make their stand. Gamble and her team. Lil and her warriors. A few Awakened and a handful of citizens who’d somehow gotten joined up. Over half of them were gone, and even now Cass wasn’t sure who had been lost.

Lil, at least, was still with them, and that was something of a victory. She had welcomed Cass warmly, though they had exchanged few words. Lil had been busy tending to others, as was her way, checking their wounds, encouraging them. The exhaustion had finally caught up with her though, and at the moment she was curled up on the floor in one corner of the room, dozing lightly.

Kit, too, was alive. Upon Cass’s arrival, Kit had greeted her with a bear hug so tight it nearly stole her breath. Now she was sitting cross-legged by the bunks, on the other side of the wayhouse, staring down at her hands in her lap. Cass watched her for a moment, watched as she spread her fingers and curled them into fists slowly, over and over. Kit had always been full of fire, but Cass doubted the young woman had ever faced the kind of ordeal she’d just come through. Though, then again, as an Awakened, there was really no telling what she may have experienced during her time as an enthralled Weir. Cass knew whatever else Kit was dealing with, her thoughts were almost certainly drawn to Wick. The two had become surprisingly close in a very short amount of time. Cass couldn’t help but wonder whether that budding relationship had been cut short.

Sky and Gamble had left almost half an hour earlier to link up with the others, though neither had given any indication about Wick’s status. She hadn’t expected them to be gone so long and naturally her imagination ran to dark places. If she’d reunited with them only to lose them all again...

Cass was so lost in the spiral of her own thoughts that when she heard a noise at the hatch, her body automatically tensed, ready for combat. The hatch shifted above her. Her claws extended. So far had her fears taken her, even when Sky’s face appeared at the entrance, it took her a moment to recognize him and for minutes afterwards, her heart continued to race with adrenaline.

“We’re back,” Sky said. He quickly swung himself around and came down the ladder so fast Cass almost didn’t have time to get out of the way. She retracted her claws and clenched her fists, hoping no one else in the wayhouse had seen them. “All right...” Sky said, and then stopped when he saw her. “Hey, you OK?”

Cass nodded. He gave her a look that said he didn’t quite believe her, but there was no time to waste.

“You set?” a voice said from above in a harsh whisper. Male; Mouse or Finn, though Cass couldn’t tell which. Sky looked at her, and she nodded again.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Sky called back up, his voice low. Moments later, Wick’s limp form slid into the entryway and dangled in midair. She could hear the grunts and struggles of those doing the work of lowering him. Somehow those above managed to get Wick low enough that Cass could grab him around the knees. Cass held tight as Sky climbed up one rung to try to steady Wick. He backed out moments later with a surprised look.

“Bring him down, bring him down,” he said to Cass, and as he did Wick started dropping lower. Cass felt the weight shift, but she clearly wasn’t holding all of it. Sky grabbed hold of Wick’s waist as it appeared through the portal, and they backed away from the ladder. A few moments later, other feet appeared on the ladder above Wick. Mouse was climbing down, one hand on the ladder, one hand gripping the back of Wick’s vest. Cass marveled at the man’s strength.

When they got Wick all the way through, Sky reached up and caught him under the shoulders.

“It’s all right, Mouse,” he said, “we got him. We got him now, Mouse.”

Finally, with those words, Wick’s full weight descended upon them as Mouse relinquished his burden. As carefully as they were able, Cass and Sky brought Wick down and laid him on a pallet of coats and blankets they’d prepared for him. The moment Mouse’s foot touched down, he went to work. He gently but firmly pulled Cass back away from Wick, and knelt down by his stricken friend’s side. After the long, silent wait, the flurry of activity was shocking.

Finn was the next one down the ladder, and he too went straight to Wick’s side. Able followed after. When his feet touched the floor, he stumbled from the ladder and collapsed to his hands and knees. Sky dropped and grabbed him, but Able waved him off. Gamble was there a moment later, bending down next to Able, her face two inches from his. Cass had been too distracted with the others to notice when exactly Gamble had shown up. They were all there now. Torn up, beaten down, worn out, but all there. The whole crew reunited. All except Swoop.

For the next ten minutes or so, Cass stood by, wanting to help but feeling like, no matter where she stood, she was in the way. Truth was, that many people stuffed into such tight quarters made it impossible not to be in
somebody
’s way. A few folks stood up and crowded back towards the back wall trying to give the latest arrivals as much room as possible. Kit alone moved forward and, along with Cass, hovered at the edge of usefulness. Cass put her arm around Kit’s shoulders and together they stood watch.

Once Mouse had done all he could, he stood and motioned to Kit. The ceiling was so low he had to duck his head and hunch over just to fit. They held quiet conference for a minute or so, after which Kit sat down on the floor next to Wick. She smoothed his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead, then stretched her hand out and took hold of Finn’s. Cass touched Mouse’s elbow to get his attention. He looked to her with heavy eyes, the utter exhaustion nearly tangible rolling off him. He gave her a weak smile and squeezed her upper arm.

“It’s good to see you, Cass,” he said. “Real good.”

“Is Wick going to make it?” she asked.

Mouse tossed a glance over his shoulder back at Wick, and when he turned back his expression didn’t offer a clear answer. “He’s lost a lot of blood and he’s been running too hot. Body just cut out on him. He’s a fighter though. If we can keep him stable, I think he’ll pull through all right. But my medkit’s real low, and I don’t have a lot of what he needs.”

“What about Able?” Cass said, looking over at where Able lay motionless by the ladder. His breathing was deep and even.

“Able?” Mouse said, with a chuckle. “Able’s a beast. I reckon he carried Wick seven, maybe eight klicks before we tracked ’em down. He’ll probably be the sorest he’s ever been in his life tomorrow, but otherwise nothing too bad. How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” His keen eyes narrowed, probing hers. Mouse was ever watchful when it came to others’ health, and he never trusted a self-diagnosis.

“Yeah, Mouse. I really am.”

“Anything touch you out there? Any falls?”

She couldn’t lie. “I had a couple of scuffles. They got the worst of it. I’m fine. Really.”

From his look, she could tell he was considering checking her over, but after a moment he just nodded. “All right.” The fact that he let it go at that told Cass just how exhausted he must be.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

Mouse smiled at that. “Long night.” He ran a hand back over his head, and threw one more look back over at Wick. Then he turned back to her. “I’m sorry, Miss Cass, but we might have to save the rest of the debrief for the morning. I’m smoked.”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” she said. “Get some rest, Mouse.”

He nodded and started towards an open spot on the floor that some of the others had arranged for him, but stopped and turned back.

“Hey. You know you shouldn’t be here. And I know that. But it’s really good to see you, just the same.”

“You too, Mouse. I’m glad you’re back safe.”

He nodded again and then took his place on the floor, apparently asleep almost as soon as he laid his head on his arm. Cass watched him for a few moments, a strange peacefulness settling on her from his presence. She hadn’t realized how concerned she’d been for him until that moment. Mouse had a careful watchfulness over those in his charge that few could match; and if someone was within his sight, he considered them under his charge. She’d seen him in combat before and knew his ferocity well, frightening to behold. He brought that same intensity to guarding the well-being of his companions. Somehow having Mouse safely home, wherever home was for the moment, made her feel like there was some measure of hope after all.

Gamble touched Cass’s shoulder and drew her attention.

“Hey,” Gamble said. “Go on and try to get some sleep.”

“I’m pretty wired,” said Cass. “I can stay up. Stand watch.”

Gamble shook her head. “We’re buttoned up pretty good. We all need to get rest whenever we can. No telling when our next chance may be.”

“What’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Gamble said. She looked over at Wick, and then shook her head again. “Plan is to sleep. After that, we’ll see what the sun brings with it.”

Gamble gave her a little nod and then moved off to spread the word to the rest of the survivors. She was right. There were still a few hours before sunrise, and now that they were all safely sealed inside there wasn’t much more for anyone to do. They were all too spent, and there were too many unknowns for them to make any kind of serious plans. That would come with the morning.

Cass went to Kit and Finn, pressed her hand into Wick’s for a moment, and then found an unclaimed corner to curl into. She stayed sitting up, resting her head against the wall, thinking she might doze lightly at best. It was only a few minutes before she had fallen into a deep sleep.

A
hand
on Cass’s shoulder drew her forth from an intense dream that she couldn’t recall when she awoke. Mouse was crouching in front of her, and it took a few seconds for her brain to catch up with her surroundings and her circumstances.

“We’re going topside to have a chat,” Mouse said. “Think you probably better come with.”

Cass nodded and swallowed, suddenly aware of a bitter taste in her mouth. Sleeping with her mouth open, probably. She stood and stretched, trying to work the knots out of her back, and shoulders, and neck, and pretty much everywhere else. Though she was certain the couple of hours of sleep had done her some good, at the moment it sure felt like it had wrecked her. Most of the others were still asleep, or at least sitting or laying with their eyes closed. Kit lay next to Wick, her hand on his chest. It was rising and falling more rapidly than Cass thought normal, and she felt a stab of concern as she followed Mouse up the ladder and into the cold morning air.

Outside, the sun was just cresting the horizon, its first rays melting the dawn grey into life and color. The wayhouse had been nestled between two tall buildings, six stories each, that overshadowed a cluster of smaller structures. There was a small courtyard at the center of them all, and the sunlight filtered through it, striping it with light and shadow. There the others stood waiting, a little distance from the wayhouse entrance. Gamble was already up, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone. Finn was there with her, as was Lil. Cass hadn’t seen Sky or Able down below, and they weren’t around now, which, she guessed, meant they were already out scouting.

“Morning,” Gamble said as Cass and Mouse approached. “Sleep well?”

“I slept,” Cass answered. “Don’t know about well.”

“You hear Mouse snoring like an earthquake?” Finn said.

“No,” said Cass.

“Then you slept well,” Finn replied.

“I don’t snore,” Mouse said.

“OK big fella,” Gamble said. Lil smiled and looked elsewhere. “So,” said Gamble, looking to Cass and switching immediately to business-mode. “We’ve got some plans to make and not a lot of time to make them.”

“Shouldn’t take long anyway,” Lil said. “Come back with us. As soon as everyone’s well enough to move. We’ve got plenty of room and supplies.”