Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) (38 page)

“When will that be?” Eyelet stares at me, and a part deep inside me crumbles.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But it’s the only shot we’ve got. We either stay here and surrender, or take our chances out there in the Vapours. What do you say, Eyelet? It’s all I’ve got.”

Eyelet’s gaze shifts to Iris and back again. Brigsmen filter closer through the trees.

“Let’s go find the Core,” she says.

I grab her hand and run, under cover of cloud, back to Bertie, screeching to a halt when we reach him.

“What are you doing?” Eyelet gasps, watching me tear open the saddlebags. “Aren’t we just going to get on and fly?”

“So they can shoot us down in the trees?” I tear open the laces. “I don’t think so. Besides, Bertie’s almost out of gas.”

“C.L. said he packed a second canister.”

“Which I don’t have time right now to change. Not with the Brigsmen on our heels. Here, take these,” I say, tossing gadgets at her one by one.

“What do we need these for?”

“Protection.” I check back over my shoulder.

“How am I supposed to protect myself with this?” She holds up an eggbeater.

I reach over and click the button on its side. Long spinning blades snap out from its center. “Any more questions?”

She swallows.

“And you didn’t want me to bring these.” I grin, dropping another device in her hand.

“Not just a bee smoker, I presume?”

“No. That one doubles as a mustard gas bomb.”

“And this?” She holds up a long skinny rod with dual prongs.

“Cigarette holder, a.k.a. flamethrower.”

“Let me guess—” her hand trembles as she holds up the next one. “Miniaturized pipe organ turned deadly explosive?”

“Close.” I flip it over, showing her the groove. “Envelope sealer turned heat-seeking missile with a button-activated trap.”

“Because every household needs one of those,” she says.

“On second thought”—I snatch the missile from her—“you’d better be in charge of these instead.” I hand her three innocent-looking but not so innocent darts. “Be careful with those. They’re poisonous.”

“What?”

“Only once they’ve been deployed—”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, and take this, too.” I pass her a tiny flat piece of steel.

“What’s this?”

“A nail file.” I turn, filling my own pockets with gadgets of my own.

“Yes, but what is it really?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Just a nail file. But perfect for close range retaliation though, don’t you think?” I demonstrate, pulling a finger across my neck. She wretches. I tuck the nail file in her coat’s breast pocket and pat it.

Her eyes grow wide. Her breath quickens.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I jerk back my hand.

Eyelet turns and reaches for her pack.

A stick snaps behind her.

Stiffly I turn around.

Brigsmen lurk not twenty meters away, backs to us in the trees.

“Time to go,” I whisper, grabbing Eyelet by the hand.

“What about Bertie?” she breathes.

The cycle creaks forward as if intending to follow. “No,” I snap at him. “You stay here. And make yourself scarce. Quickly.”

I burst forward, dragging Eyelet behind me, the two of us drifting quiet as quail through the steamy underbrush, leaving Bertie behind to whimper like a spoiled child.

F
orty five

Eyelet

Brigsmen converge on the space in the forest where Urlick and I just stood. The sound of their boots tamp up my spine as Urlick and I charge away up the road. Or what’s left of the road.

I pretty confident the Brigsmen can’t see us for the rolling cloud cover, for at times I can’t even see Urlick’s face in front of me. But still I feel their eyes burning at our backs, never far enough away.

“We just need to make it to that ridge over there,” Urlick pants.

“And then what?” I gasp, as we run.

“That’s where things get exciting—”

“What do you mean, exciting?”

Urlick huffs in a breath as he turns to me. “That’s where we have to scale down the side of the escarpment.”

“We have to do
what?
” My feet grind to a halt. “What about the road? Why can’t we stick to the road?”

Urlick jerks to a stop beside me. “It’s gone. It fell away in the explosion, the Night of the Great Illumination.”

“Explosion?” My mind leaps back to the night of the flash; to the many other things it destroyed.

“Yes.” He catches his breath. “It knocked out the road. The only way to get to the Core now is to scale over the side of the ridge there.” He points.

“Embers? Your plan is to descend into Embers?”

“Not exactly. Just to descend onto the fringe.”

I gasp. “You’re mad. You’ve gone mad.” I turn to leave.

“Eyelet, please,” he yanks me back. “I promise we won’t be down there long. Just long enough to cross the old ravine to the other side.”

“What old
ravine—”

“The one we have to cross to get to the Core!”

I swallow. “And then what? Assuming we survive the drop and find the ravine, where do we go from there?”

“I believe it’s to the left.”

“You
believe?
”

“That’s right, I
believe.”
Urlick runs a worried hand through his hair. “I’ve only been there once—”

“Once!” I whirl around. “Why didn’t tell me this before we left?”

“Would you have come if I had?” he shouts.

I narrow my eyes. I can’t decide if I’m angrier with him, or with myself for following him.

Teeth chatter in the trees.

I swing around.

“Come on.” Urlick grabs my hand and pulls me forward, his eyes like crimson lanterns burning through the fog. “Best not dillydally in this part of the woods.”

He’s the first to drop over the side when we reach the edge, hanging by his hands from an exposed root at the top of the ridge. “Your turn.” He looks up at me. “Just ease yourself over until your feet reach mine.”

“Surely you jest,” I say.

I peek over the edge at him, toes teetering on two jagged rocks protruding from the smooth rock face. “This doesn’t look at all safe to me, Urlick” I say, trembling. “In fact, this looks down right ludicrous.”

The thought passes over me: what about my episodes? What if I lower myself over the ledge and an episode hits? They tend to rear their ugly head in times of stress, and
this
—I glance over the ridge again—I’d say this qualifies as stress. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Urlick.” I bite my lip.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be all right,” he says, and his foot slips, sending the rock he’s been standing on crumbling down into the ravine. For a harrowing moment, he swings out, dangling by one arm off the cliff, then kicks his way back to the side. “You see?” He looks at me, eyes wide. “Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, splendid.”

Criminals moan again in the trees. I gulp down the terror rising in me.

“Come on, Eyelet.” Urlick reaches out. “We’ve got to get going.”

I turn around, trying not to think of what I’m about to do, and lower myself slowly over the side. My boot slips almost instantly and I fall, skittering down the rock face in one quick stomach-sloshing jerk.

I swing down in front of Urlick, hem caught on a root. “See,” Urlick grins, his broad hand trembling at my back. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve got you.”

“I see that.” I say.

I move again and slip again. Urlick catches me, his arm wound tight about my waist.

“See now.” His nervous breath sweeps past my ear as we dangle from the root together. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?” His lips graze my earlobe.

In a small way, he’s right: this isn’t so terrible. It’s quite divine actually. My back pressed up against his chest, his heart beating a vibrant concerto at my spine. All the blood in my body tingles. Not in the cool metallic way it does when I’m falling into an episode, but warm and cursive, like fancy handwriting over fine parchment paper, all loopy and beautiful, seeping in and out of every pore.

We hang there, catching our breath, and I wish this moment would never end. But reality dictates if we don’t move soon—the root creaks—we’ll be falling instead of rappelling the rest of the way.

“Ready?” Urlick whispers in my ear.

“As I’ll ever be,” I say.

One shaky-legged hold at a time, we descend through the cloud cover into the belly of the ravine. My mind races with what might lurk within its frothy black boiling mist. Images of criminal corpses and gape-mouthed spirits shudder through me. I shake off the thoughts and try to concentrate on the footholds instead. By the time we drop down onto the ledge, I’m feeling winded, light-headed and mushy-limbed. The fog is so thick down here it’s dizzying. My lungs sting when I try to breathe.

Perhaps it’s due to nerves, or the drop in altitude. Or perhaps this is just the plight of entering Embers.

I stagger forward, hoping upon hope it’s not an episode. It can’t be, or I’d feel shaky as well.
Please don’t let it be an episode.
I suck in a breath and immediately cough.

Urlick’s head snaps around. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” All his edges are muted. As if he were a vision in a dream. Yet there’s no hint of silver rising in my veins; no familiar stench of burning bread. It’s not the same feeling. This is completely different. More like the oxygen down here’s been traded in for lead.

“You all right?” He stares into my face.

I cling to him, soft-kneed and out of breath, our fingers laced as if my very survival depends on it. “Are we floating?” I say.

“Oh, no!” Urlick drops my hand and rifles through his pack.

I stagger beside him, dangerously close to the edge.

“Hold on!” He reaches up and steadies me, yanking a gasmask out of his pack with his other hand. He suits me up, turns the valve to purify. “Blast!” he shouts, frantically tapping the gauges.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Breathe slowly,” he cautions. “We haven’t much left.”

I nod, telling myself not to panic, my thoughts already clearer after only a few short breaths.

“I’m good,” I say, pulling the mask away.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I lie.

Urlick shuts off the valves and pockets the mask. “I’ll keep it right here in case you need it again.”

Good plan, I think, as I stumble along behind him again.

We follow the ledge around a bend in the escarpment. “Shouldn’t be long now,” Urlick says.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“A bridge made of boulders.”

“Up here?”

“A suspension bridge. More like a crossing, between this ledge and that.” He points, and through a faint hole in the cloud cover I see what he means. A second ledge runs parallel to the escarpment, past a notch in the sidewall, like a canyon, only no water runs through it and it’s not very deep. It’s as though someone took a giant knife and cut a wedge out of the side of the escarpment in the shape of a piece of pie, and left it to stand off on its own.

“So, it’s sort of like an island, the piece where we’re going?”

“Exactly.” Urlick pulls to a stop. “That’s strange.”

“What is?”

He moves away, leaving me to shiver in the cold wind, racing up and down the ledge. “It should be here. Right here.” He paces.

“What should be here?” I steady myself against the rock wall, my eyes still a little swimmy.

“The logged path leading to the stone bridge.” He twists one way then the other. “It should be here. There should be a logged path leading to a bridge connecting this piece of land to the piece where my father’s laboratory is.”