Deception (10 page)

At the end of the row, a walking stick in black ebony nearly blends into the dark wall behind it.

Melkin’s staff.

The one he was given when he was on a mission to another city-state.

The one that can call the Cursed One.

I’m willing to bet Melkin was in Rowansmark when he received his gift. Did he know what he had? Or was James Rowan just hoping to get lucky and have Melkin accidentally call the beast to destroy Baalboden?

The metal is smooth and cold beneath my fingers. I should leave the staff. Shove it into a shadowy corner of the basement where it will be overlooked and then bury it when I bring down the ceiling.

But what if in burying it, I activate the sonic pulse that calls the Cursed One? My people would be in the tunnel. Even with the completed power booster attached to the tech I carry, I can’t risk it. Besides, if the staff is capable of calling the monster, maybe it’s capable of other things as well. You never know when something like that could come in handy.

Laying the staff in the back of the supply wagon, behind my extra jars of glycerin and acid and my bags of tech supplies and scrap parts, I return to the tunnel and consider the one scenario I don’t have a solution for.

Every guard in Baalboden carried a tracking device and an Identidisc capable of scanning the unique ridges of our wristmarks and listing which citizens were in a seventy-yard radius. I’d be a fool not to consider that the Commander may have already used an Identidisc to scan our wristmarks to see who survived the fires and stayed behind with me. Once he has a list of our wristmark signals, he can use a tracking device to find us unless we’re out of range.

We’d have to be at least five hundred yards away to be out of range. We don’t have time to tunnel that far. I just have to hope the Commander doesn’t realize we’ve left until it’s too late to track us down.

I nod a silent greeting to the nighttime tunnel crew again and set about toggling the levers that control the machine’s trajectory. A few minutes later, the machine is chewing through the dirt at a three percent incline, and I’m back to pacing the tunnel while I worry over every other worst case scenario that presents itself to me.

What if the machine breaks before it reaches the surface?

What if the device doesn’t keep the Cursed One at bay when one hundred fifty-four pairs of boots are stomping through its domain?

What if the Commander is already tracking us?

What if?

“Thought I might find you here,” a voice says behind me, and I nearly drop the torch I’m holding as I spin around to find Thom standing in the tunnel holding a torch of his own. The firelight flickers along the craggy planes of his face, and he smiles a little as I shake my head.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me heart failure.”

“Didn’t sneak up on purpose. You weren’t paying attention.” He shifts his torch to his other hand. “You need sleep, Logan.”

“I can’t.”

“If you want to lead everyone out of this place tomorrow, you don’t have a choice.” He nods toward the far end of the tunnel, where the faint hum of the machine drones steadily. “I’ll keep watch here for you.”

“You need sleep, too.” And besides, I’m not awake because I think the tunnel crew needs supervision. I’m awake because there might be a scenario that I’ve missed. I can’t afford to stop thinking through the potential problems and coming up with viable solutions.

“The group can function well enough without me for a few hours tomorrow if I have to nap in a wagon, Logan. It’s you they need.”

The air in the tunnel feels close and warm. I gulp it down as my throat tightens and look away. For most of my life, I wondered what it would feel like to be respected. Looked up to. Needed.

I thought it would be fulfilling, but instead it’s exhausting. The expectations and hope placed on me weigh more than I think I can bear, and every single bit of the trust that’s been thrust my way feels fragile in my clumsy hands.

What if I fail them?

Thom’s hand wraps around my shoulder and squeezes gently. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He sighs and settles himself next to me with his back against the dirt wall. His mop of brown hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care. “That’s young. Maybe too young for everything we’ve asked of you.”

“Drake could do it better.” I lean next to him and watch the way the torchlight dances in the gloom. “He’s older, more experienced—he’d already started leading your group against the Commander. I just don’t understand why . . .”

“Why we picked you?”

I nod.

“Drake gathered a group of like-minded people together to talk grand ideas. What if things were different? What if we could change our society?” His hand tightens against my shoulder and then slips away. “But really, what we were doing was waiting for the Commander to die. Planning for change that we could implement when our enemy was already gone.”

I remain silent, and Thom takes a moment, as if he wants to choose his words with care. “But you, Logan, you didn’t wait. You didn’t sit in dark corners making big plans that you knew you couldn’t put into motion because it would mean committing treason. You stood up to him. You saw an injustice, and you stood up to him. None of us had ever found the courage to do that.”

“I just did what anyone . . . I couldn’t—he was hurting
Rachel
.”

Thom’s voice is filled with quiet grief. “And before that, it was Drake’s wife. Derreck’s son. My sister. The list is endless. But we just talked. Grieved and talked. Got angry and talked some more. We were full of someday plans, because we aren’t leaders.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“I’d say that honor goes to you alone.”

We fall silent, listening to the rumble of the machine and the quiet murmurs of the tunnel crew as they brace the walls and the ceiling.

“You aren’t afraid when it counts,” he says.

My laugh is tinged with bitterness. “I’m always afraid.”

“Of what? Dying? Being tortured? The Cursed One?”

“Failing.”

There’s a smile in his voice. “And
that’s
what makes you the right leader for us. You’re driven to do the right thing, no matter what it costs you. And you’re smart enough to make it happen. Never in my life seen anyone with more ideas and plans than you.”

I let his words settle in my head while our torches hiss and pop. The burden of responsibility is still enormous, but somehow it feels like Thom is now shouldering a small piece of it for me. I push away from the wall and look at him. His brown eyes hold mine steadily, and he waits quietly for my next words.

“I think this is the longest conversation you and I have ever had,” I say.

He looks pained. “I’d appreciate it if next time you didn’t make me do most of the talking. Never really cared for it.”

I grin. “I respect a man who lets his actions speak louder than his words.”

“And I respect you. Never forget it. Now go get some sleep. I’ll watch over the tunnel until daybreak.”

I respect you
. His words ring in my ears as I follow his advice and head toward the main banquet hall and my bedroll.

I was wrong. Being needed, trusted, and respected by others isn’t nearly as exhausting as the fear that those who now look to me for leadership do so because they’ve built me up to be more than I can possibly be. Thom accepts my fears and my shortcomings and still wants me as his leader for reasons that make sense to me. I underestimated him, and as I lie down with nothing but a thin blanket between me and the cold marble floor of the banquet hall, I have to wonder if it’s possible that I’ve underestimated the rest of my people as well.

I hope to keep them safe long enough to find out.

Chapter Ten

RACHEL

I
wake in the predawn gray with the rest of the camp, pack up my bedroll, and take my breakfast ration—a chunk of yesterday’s bread—to the wide steps leading to the compound’s entrance while Logan supervises the final preparations for our journey. The air is heavy with the promise of rain, and faint beams of sunlight waver uncertainly between thick ribbons of gray cloud.

B
oom. Boom.

The pair of second-shift guards who are standing at the door listening to the battering ram’s steady assault against the gate gaze longingly at my bread, and I take pity on them.

“Go get a breakfast ration. I’ll listen for any trouble.” The words are barely out of my mouth when they hurry toward the banquet hall. Before I turn back around to face the city, Jeremiah shuffles down the hall, his purple bow tied smartly around the collar of his tunic. He nods to me and then disappears into the room he’s been using to draw Logan’s map.

Boom
.

A long scraping noise fills the air. Like a giant metal fingernail sliding across the cobblestones.

The debris is shifting. There’s no way to tell how much longer it will take for the army to create a hole big enough to use, but we’re leaving soon. Hopefully it won’t matter.

Before I turn to tell Logan about the battering ram’s progress, I take one more look at Baalboden. My eyes seek out the street where I was raised, just a little north of Lower Market. Splintered beams and solitary brick chimneys stretch toward the sky, but there’s nothing else. No rooftops. No homes. Nothing but ashes and memories.

Boom. Scrape. Slide.

I wait for the loss of my father’s laughter to hurt me. For the memory of Oliver’s sticky buns and fairy tales to cut me to pieces, but I’m hollowed out inside.

Boom.

Turning away, I decide it’s better this way. Easier. I can walk away from this if I don’t let myself grieve for what I’m leaving behind.

The sense that something is wrong comes quietly. A tiny finger of fear skating over my skin. A whisper that I’ve missed something important. I stop chewing, strain to see deep into the fog-drenched ruins, and listen.

Silence.

The battering ram has fallen quiet.

I see flashes of red moving quickly through the foggy streets and swear.

The army is coming.

Racing up the steps, I slam the front door behind me. Pushing the metal bars into place, I lock the door and hope Carrington wastes plenty of time hunting through the rest of the city before they come so far north.

“Jeremiah, get out of there. The army is coming.” I smack my fist against the closed door of his office as I race past.

At the end of the hall, I nearly collide with Willow as she leaps from the tiny stairway that leads up to the watchtower.

“Carrington—”

“They’re coming straight for us,” Willow says. “Not even bothering to search anywhere else. It’s like your leader knew right where we’d be.”

My pulse pounds, and my skin feels too tight. “Let’s go.”

Logan is helping Elias and Sylph roll up the last of the canvas shelters. He takes one look at my face and leaps to his feet, already shouting for quiet.

I take a deep breath and try to sound calm. We need these people to move down to the basement and into the tunnel without hysteria or panic. “Carrington is through the gate.” I meet Logan’s eyes and try to convey with my expression that there’s more to the situation, but I needn’t have bothered.

Willow says, “They’re coming straight for the compound. Better get into that tunnel if you don’t feel like being skewered by a sword.”

Chaos erupts. People scream, shout, and scramble for the doorway, sometimes knocking each other down in the process. I glare at Willow. “Do you ever
not
say exactly what you’re thinking?”

She shrugs as Quinn, Logan, Drake, Frankie, Nola, and Ian hurry up to us. Logan starts spitting out orders the second he arrives.

“Ian, run ahead into the tunnel and tell Thom what’s going on. Make sure they’ve surfaced. If they haven’t, switch the angle of the machine and get it done. Nola, take Jodi, Sylph, and Smithson and get the injured into the medical wagon and then
go
.”

As they leave, he looks at Drake. “Get these people organized into two lines and move them down the stairs and into the tunnel. Make sure they understand that they must be absolutely quiet. I’ll be there in a minute with the device so we can keep the Cursed One at bay. Frankie, grab a few helpers, blindfold the animals, and lead them through.”

“What can I do to help?” Quinn asks.

“I need to know that we got everybody out. Can you check the compound and send any stragglers to the basement? You’ll have to move fast. Once the army reaches the compound, I want you in the tunnel.”

Quinn nods, and Willow immediately says, “I’ll go with him. It’ll be faster with two people searching.”