Stolen (12 page)

Chapter 19

T
HE SOLDIER SMILED AND
RAISED
his fist to punch Roark in the face again, but he fell to the ground before he could land the blow. Shakes stood behind him with a grim smile, holding the blunt edge of his gun. “Next time, pick on someone your own size, icehole.”

“You jammed his radio?” asked Wes, making sure.

“Easy as stealing watts from a tourist at roulette,” Shakes said with a grin, showing Wes the broken comm he'd filched from the soldier's pocket. “No one can hear us.”

Wes knelt down, dabbed his handkerchief in Nutri, and passed it to Roark. “Sorry about that, man. I told the guys to leave you all alone, but some of them aren't so obedient.”

“Took you two long enough,” Roark said, putting the hanky to his eye. “Thanks a lot—I'm sure I'm quite a sight.”

Wes gave him a few of the fried chicken wafers he carried in his pocket, and the smallman calmed down.

“What happened? Where have you been? How'd you get here?” Wes asked.

“It was the garden,” Roark said sadly, his dark hair falling in his eyes. “You were right, Wes. We shouldn't have done it, but we were tired of hiding in our rooms—we wanted air. Even if the sky was gray, it was something. I wanted to feel the open space, to stand in a place without walls.”

“For a few damn vegetables?” Shakes shook his head.

Roark just shrugged.

“I loved that garden, too. I get it,” said Wes.

“How'd they find you?” Shakes asked.

“Drones. We heard buzzing the day before they came. The drones must have spied us on the roof. We should have fled that night, but we decided to wait till you got back. Besides, we didn't know where to go, and Liannan didn't want to leave without finding a way to tell Shakes what had happened.”

“Really?” Shakes asked. His face was turning red. “She didn't want to . . . to leave me?”

Roark rolled his eyes. “Which turned out to be the wrong decision, as the soldiers came for us the next day. Brendon and I were downstairs, in the kitchen, and suddenly they were everywhere; we didn't even hear the door open, we looked up and they had surrounded us. They had some sort of weapon that blocked our hearing.” He winced at the memory.

“We told them there were only two of us, but they knew there was a third. They found Liannan on the roof. They took us to the detention center in K-Town first, then New Java.”

“We were just there!” Shakes yelped.

“How'd you get on a pilgrim boat, then?” asked Wes.

“There was a riot, and we escaped.”

Wes nodded. He remembered the guards talking about a breakout, which was why they had kept him in solitary. The whole place was still under lockdown when they arrived.

“We found a runner taking pilgrims to the Blue and took a chance on it again—where else could we go? We wanted to get a message to New Vegas but didn't think we could trust anyone after what happened. And by bad luck Brendon and I got separated. He should be on the other boat that got picked up hours ago; we heard their distress signal. I thought our boat would be able to escape until you caught us just now.”

“The
Colossus
must have picked them up,” Wes said, thinking about the pilgrim boat the other captain had bragged about finding.

“What about Liannan?” Shakes asked. “She on that boat, too?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean? You don't know?”

Shakes looked ready to pound the smallman even smaller.

“They took her away the moment they found her on the roof. We asked around at the DC, asked the prison network, and when we got out, we asked again, but no one's seen her. We haven't seen her for weeks, maybe longer . . . ,” Roark said, rubbing at his eyes with one fist. “But I can't believe she's dead . . . and I won't.”

Shakes nodded, turning away. He slumped against the cell wall.

Wes reached out to put a hand on his shoulder but Shakes pulled from his grasp. “It's okay,” Shakes said, his voice hoarse. “When we lost her, that first day, I knew it was over. I knew I would never get her back. But when we saw you, Roark, I hoped . . .” The words trailed off.

Roark looked as miserable as Shakes sounded.

“She might be on the
Colossus.
There might still be time, man,” said Wes.

“Wes is right, there is still hope,” said Roark. “I had lost mine until I saw Wes on the deck and you on the other lifeboat.” He looked at them as if he had only now realized the significance of the situation. “Are you going to tell me why you're suddenly working for the enemy?”

They had only just finished filling him in on El Dorado and Eliza when Wes's radio crackled to life. “Hold on,” he said, and picked up the comm. It was the other carrier. “Wesson here.”

“This is McCleod from the
Colossus.
Hostiles are firing on us, request backup, converge on our location. Repeat, we are under attack!”

Wes confirmed the order, put down his radio. “All right, listen up, looks like they caught some heat. You said Donnie's on the other cruiser, right?”

Roark nodded.

“Okay, we'll get him out, and maybe we can sneak away while they're firing at each other. Take one of the inflatable boats.”

“What about Eliza?” asked Shakes.

“Bradley mentioned a base in the Red City. That's in New Kandy, right? We'll go there,” Wes decided. “Try to spring her out.”

“What if they kill her before we get there? When they find out you went AWOL?”

Wes bit his lip. “I'm counting on us working faster than their bureaucracy. We can't stay here. If this icehole wakes up, knock him out again,” he told his small friend.

“Gladly,” replied Roark with a bloody smile.

• • •

Wes left Shakes to deal with the rest of the prisoners and ran to the bridge, where he ordered Farouk to plot a course toward the other cruiser. They traveled as fast as their vessel would allow, riding toward a cloud of smoke that gradually expanded on the horizon. Wes radioed the ship's captain again but didn't receive a reply. He had no other way to communicate with the sinking ship, and the smoke grew darker and denser as they drew nearer.

He picked up his binoculars and saw the vessel aflame, smoke rising from the deck, soldiers scrambling in the dark, some escaping in lifeboats, others staying to fight. The ship was not moving; the hull was pierced and taking on water.

Wes ordered Farouk to run parallel to the other ship, to come up slowly. “
Goliath,
this is your captain, Lieutenant Wesson. Stand ready. Do not fire until ordered. Repeat. Do not fire until ordered.”

He told Farouk to slow down and kill the engines, so they could drift toward the flaming vessel. The cruiser was on fire, but Wes couldn't spot the hostile ship that had attacked them.

“Boss,” Farouk said. “We've got a problem.”

“What?” Wes snapped, watching with horror as one of the soldiers on the burning deck of the
Goliath
just
burst into flame
when his fire extinguisher hit the blaze. This was magic, all right; whoever had attacked the ship was marked, powerful, and dangerous.

“One of the boys below just armed our rockets.”

The kids must have panicked. They'd seen what he had just seen—and probably thought it best to sink the entire ship, since that's what the brass always did. Cut losses. Close exits. Kill everyone inside.

Wes scrambled for the override and hit the button, but it was too late.

A rocket sailed through the air, a brilliant orange arc. It would tear a hole through the deck and the ship would sink, taking everyone down with it. Godfreezeit, Wes sure hoped Brendon and Liannan weren't on that ship. He looked through his binoculars again.

A pair of figures on the deck were running from the missile aimed their way—a tall male figure with shocking white hair, and the other—female, slim, raven-haired, and so familiar.

Wes almost dropped the binoculars.

It was Nat.

Chapter 20

N
AT WAS RUNNING B
EHIND
F
AIX WHEN
she heard it—a low hum that echoed all around, the sound of engines, the dull churn of the waves. Over her shoulder she saw a second cruiser burst out of the mist and a flame shoot upward from its deck. They'd fired a rocket, and the gleaming missile was heading right for them.

Without hesitating, almost without thinking, she turned toward it and raised her hands as she had seen Faix do, and the missile exploded into the air all around her. She accepted its flames, accepted its destruction, took the heat into her body to join the fire inside her, and shattered it into a million molecules, so that it fell harmlessly around them like a rain of white light. Nat hadn't yet learned how to shape the ether, but turning something into nothing—
that
she could do.

“You're learning.” Faix smiled.

“Baby steps.” Nat acknowledged it with satisfaction, but their work wasn't done. “Come on, Liannan's voice is coming from down here,” she said, running to a door in the bulkhead. It was secured with a large wheel and she spun it, unwinding the hidden mechanism, the locks clicking open. But when she pulled on it, the door remained stuck, and she braced herself against the wall and pulled again.

The door ripped free from the bulkhead, hurtling through the air, crashing into the dark waters, splashing black filth in all directions.

Nat felt a certain grim satisfaction at her capacity for destruction. She had obliterated the missile and torn open the door. Whatever she was, she was good at breaking things, and she was proud of it.

Faix peered into the hole. Stairs spiraled down into the darkness.

Nat, Nat, Nat.

Nat slid down the stairs, Faix right behind. There were dozens of cells and prisoners clamoring for release; they had heard the sounds of gunshots, of battle, and worried they would be left to drown in the bottom of the ship.

Faix gestured with his hand and all the doors opened at once.

The pilgrims swarmed out, haggard and dirty, running up the stairs toward the lifeboats. “Liannan! Where are you? Liannan!” Nat called. She couldn't hear the voice in her head anymore. “Liannan!”

“Nat!” A hand was pulling on her shirt.

She looked down.

“Brendon!”

“Nat!” he exclaimed joyfully. “You're here! You've come to rescue us!”

She grinned. It was good to see her friend. Brendon was thinner, and his beard was ragged and filthy, but his eyes were shining brightly. She handed him a dagger from her boot and he accepted it gratefully. “Oh, you look lovely,” he said. “Is that leather? The craftsmanship is spectacular.” She thought only Brendon would notice what she was wearing at a time like this. Then she realized he was talking about the knife.

She had to smile. “Where's Liannan? Isn't she with you? Roark? Shakes? Wes?”

Brendon shook his head. “No, it's just me. I don't know where anyone is. Roark and I got separated a few days ago, and I haven't seen Liannan in weeks.” His eyes grew wide when he saw Faix.

The sylph approached, lurked, half in shadow, his face slowly emerging from the dark, his pale skin and bright eyes glowing in the dim light. “She is not here. I don't understand it. But we must get away. The other ship will be upon us.”

Nat nodded. Brendon followed speechlessly.

They ran back up to the deck to find chaos, as soldiers scattered and fled, shoving pilgrims off the lifeboats or jumping into the water.

They fear my people as they feared the drakon. All those years I lived in fear, and now I am feared.

Nat looked across the water, at the gray hull of the second cruiser approaching fast. Would they fire another rocket? The ship was coming alongside their vessel to board it.

I will sink their ship. I will tear holes in its hull. I will crush it into nothingness. I will burn it to ashes. Destroy them before they destroy you.

Was it the drakon's voice she heard or her own?

She stared at the ship, feeling the fire begin to build inside her, swirling and beautiful, and she smiled.

I feel almost whole again. When it burns.

“What are you doing?” Brendon asked, watching in horror. The black armor she wore turned hot as coals, and she was covered in orange flame. “Roark could be on that ship!”

Roark. Liannan. She was still looking for her friends. What was she thinking? There were people on that ship. She had been about to kill everyone on board. Her flame died as quickly as it appeared.

NAT!

She looked up and saw Faix at the corner of her eye, slipping into the shadows. But why? Then she saw—a secret boat—an inflatable from the other cruiser—and its soldiers had snuck up onto the deck to secure it while she and Faix were down below.

Nat was about to move toward them when there was a
click
by her ear. She felt the barrel of a gun pointed right at the back of her head.

“Brendon's right, Roark
is
on that ship,” said a voice behind her.

A strong voice.

Brave. Unwavering.

And very, very familiar.

She turned and saw the face of her captor for the first time.

It was really him, unless her mind was playing tricks on her. And given all of the tricks she had been trying to get it to play lately, that was a real possibility.

Maybe I've formed him out of the ether.

Something from not-nothing.

But the longer she stared, the more she knew he was real.

Wes stood in front of her, his face grim and his mouth set in a hard line. He was wearing a uniform, with officer stripes on his shoulders, and his shaggy hair had been cut short, close to the scalp, making his face even more striking.
Like a warrior,
she thought.
Something ancient. Something rough. There are other kinds of power besides mine and Faix's.

While her heart leapt at the sight of him, she was afraid as well. Slowly, she tried to piece together the reality of the situation.

He was a soldier again? Wes?

Wes was the enemy? He was on board the other ship? He had fired that missile? Why was he pointing a gun at her?

She stared at him, her heart beating so fast in her chest, she felt dizzy.
Wes . . .

Her mind was muddled with thoughts, memories, feelings, but she didn't want to think too much while Faix was around to read her thoughts. She didn't want him to know what she felt for Wes. That part of her was sacred, private, something only she and the boy standing in front of her in the gray uniform could know.

If it's still there. If he still feels it, too.

When she had seen him on the racetrack, he was a runner, but what had happened between then and now? Why was he in uniform? The last time they'd been together he had kissed her, and the memory of his kiss was still alive in her mind, in her heart, in that promise he had made.
This isn't the end for us.
She wanted to throw her arms around him, wanted him to hold her again, wanted to feel his body next to hers.

But he only stood there, watching her with hooded eyes, distant, a stranger.

“Come on,” Wes said, his gun still aimed at her head. He nodded to Brendon. “Let's go. You're both with me.”