Page 54

“Won’t they notice you gone?”

He doesn’t answer. “We’ll make it happen. I will find your father before we ship out.”

He senses my fear. “Don’t worry, Lola. That man is a survivor. If anyone lived, he did.”

19

KRAZAK

My boots crunch over the carapace of the Scorp. There’s more down here. Either they descended to the farthest depths of the mines—or they were drawn to human flesh. I hope the second, and that we are not too late to rescue the survivors. My smartwatch beeps, again, urgent and red. I accept the call with a grunt. The fresh-faced Aurelian has the second brand on his forehead, but I pick up the call only with audio.

“Krazak. Sir. We’re supposed to link up with you.”

“We’re chasing a lead. Continue on the adjusted patrol,” I say in my smartwatch.

“Your voice is echoing and faint. Where are you? We’ve got strict orders not to adjust patrols.” His feed blinks in and out. This deep, the signal is so weak I can barely understand him.

“Coms are wonky. Worry about your route, soldier,” I bark back, quieting him. “One more question and you will be docked a talon.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, and I cut the feed off right as another Scorp dives towards us, screeching, and Bolden puts it down forever.

We’ve been descending for endless hours, deeper and deeper into the final mine shaft.

“We’re running out of time,” says Khra.

“Deeper,” I respond, and we trek down. Here, the mine cart shafts are rusted and old, a disused mine shaft, all the minerals drained from the earth. Finally, we reach the end, and my hopes sink. We’ll face an interrogation when we’re back late. Discipline has been strict with the call of Obsidian, and a delay of even minutes will cast a deep suspicion on us. Those bastards at the ship bay are already on our backs.

“We did our best,” says Khra.

“Not good enough!” My voice booms out, echoing, and I hear something, maybe a Scorp, maybe a movement, I’m not sure—but I look to my right, and see deeper blackness in the wall. I run my hands over it, and see the entrance to a deeper cave.

“Any survivors?” I boom out in common.

“Who are you?” comes the weak, raspy voice, as if it’s full of dust.

“We are sent by Lola.” It’s the last thing they could have expected, especially in an Aurelian accent.

“Who?”

“Lola? She lives?” comes a tearful voice, quavering, and I hear the footsteps. It’s him. He’s lost weight, gaunt and skeletal, but I recognize him from the employee ID. Blake Nightly. He’s covered in dust, but he steps out into the mine shaft, looking us up and down, as if he isn’t sure if he’s dreaming.

More miners emerge from the darkness, four of them, ranging from a gangly young lad who I think to be in his twenties but up close looks to be still a teenager, aged by the long days working, to a miner who must be pushing seventy, all hard strength and cold cunning in his eyes.

“Who…how…” The youngster’s eyes are popping out of his head, still unsure if we’re an apparition.

I reach into my robe’s pouch and take out a bottle of cool water, which I hand to him. He drinks greedily while Khra and Bolden hand out more water and a small ration bar each.

The youngster chomps it down in two bites. “Do you have more food? We haven’t eaten in…” He swallows, his mouth still full, speaking in his eagerness.

“In near a week. Better to start eating light, after starvation. Men can die from gorging themselves. We will take you to Ridgetown. I recommend you start with soup,” I say, as Khra checks his watch, urging me to hurry. “None of you saw us. You understand? We were never here.” I speak slowly in Common, so they understand.

“Are you real?” asks the youngster, before the old man gives me a flick with a bony finger to tell him to shut his mouth.

“They ain’t real. You saw nothing, boy,” says the old man, grabbing the water bottle and drinking deep.

“We will not say a word. My daughter. Where is she?” Blake’s voice is insistent. He’s got gratitude in his eyes, yes, but also suspicion, the suspicion of a father whose daughter is known by a man he doesn’t much like. We’re not just a suspect human. He’s been fed propaganda against us, and we’re an entire triad of conquerors, sent by his daughter.

“You will see her soon. There’s no time. We’ll carry you.”