“What happened?” I repeat, stunned, my garments falling to my feet as I fail to catch them.
“She killed him.” Priest yanks on his trousers.
“Why?” My eyes dart between them. “No, she wouldn’t. How do you know?”
“Angel.” Priest holds my shoulders, focusing my attention. “I see it. Get dressed.”
“Rimma?” I stare at my sister, a feral wilderness deep in her eyes. The impatient set to her jaw barely hides the brittle web holding her together.
“He planned to hang Priest,” she growls at me, her words full of accusation as Priest stops to stare at her. “I stabbed him through the eye. Now, get dressed.”
My hands trembling, I pull on my skirt. Tears flood my eyes and spill down my cheeks as I fumble with the buttons of my blouse. Rimma paces, bloody fingers in her hair. Priest finishes stuffing our few belongings in a satchel and we slip out the door.
Soldiers mill in morning’s dim corridors, the stronghold quiet during these hours but rarely asleep. Priest and Rimma walk casually toward the atrium with me tagging behind them, invisible to the random eye. He stops briefly to lick his thumb and rub away the blood staining her cheek. Dawn pinks the sky over the atrium as we veer toward the stairwell. Priest opens the door and Cullan steps from the darkness with a lantern.
“Rimma,” he says with a look of surprise. “I’d heard you returned.” His gaze switches to Priest, noting the bruised face. “I apologize for the rough welcome. My men are on edge; more likely to assume you’re one of the People than from the Colony. I’m glad they didn’t shoot you.”
“As am I,” Priest replies. “We came to offer our assistance, but Mikel is singular in his vision.”
The colonel hands Rimma that lantern for our trip down. “In light of the horde outside our gates, I’m less convinced our choices are wise ones. Someday, perhaps.”
“We should go,” Rimma urges Priest. “Angel waits for us below.”
“You’re leaving?” he asks her, his brow knitted in confusion.
“Seeing my sister safely off,” Rimma replies with a smile.
“Travel through the east gate,” Cullan advises Priest. “The others are blocked or soon will be.” He sidesteps out of our way and appears to look straight at me. “Tell Angel I’m sorry I missed her. And to wish us luck. We’re going to need it, I’m afraid.”
“We will,” Priest says and enters the dark stairwell. At the lead, Rimma hurries down the treads, the lantern held aloft. Priest diffuses the light, reducing shadows cast by the metal rails and our bodies. Our feet pound the steps, thundering in my ears, Priest containing the sound to the space around us where it seems to bounce and echo. We race down six flights and stop before exiting the door to the first level.
My heart hammers as Priest raises a finger to his lips and whispers, “I’ll bend light around us until we reach the stable, but we’ll be visible while we retrieve our horses. There’s too much activity to maintain my Touch and not raise an alarm. Once we’re saddled and riding, I can do it again.”
Rimma swings her crossbow from her back and cocks it, setting a bolt.
“We’re not killing, Rimma,” Priest informs her, his hand pressing the bow down. “I won’t use my Touch to kill.”
“You don’t have to kill,” she informs him. “I will.”
“Not while I’m protecting us,” he insists. “There’s no need.”
For a long breath, she stares at him. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“The bow,” he says. She hesitates, then disarms the weapon and shifts it to her back.
The door easing open, we step into the immense foyer at the west entrance, dawn and dust motes filtering into the dim space through the cavernous atrium. Free of light’s reflection, we cast no shadows. Soldiers striding and jogging to and from morning duties ignore us. The waking day possesses an aura of tension, the threat of attack expected at any moment. Priest catches the outside door as a group of men push through, holding it open seconds longer than natural for us to slip out.
Shouts erupt above, the colonel’s voice bellowing through the open atrium. “This is Colonel Cullan. Lock down all exits now. Detain…everyone. I’m on my way down.”
Dragging me with her, Rimma sidles through at the edge of the portal. The soldiers attempt to push the doors closed, one of them sticking. He yanks with a grunt as Priest holds it open, trying to find a way through. The soldier lets go, searching for the problem as Priest ducks around him into the morning air. The door jerks as it releases and glides closed.
“East gate,” Priest whispers, taking my hand. “We leave our horses behind.”
With a nod, Rimma starts running north around the stronghold’s perimeter. Priest and I on her heels, we dash into the fields, cutting sharply toward the east track. He drags me past soldiers as they pour from the north doors and fan out to search for us. Though the men remain blind to our presence, I feel exposed, criminal.
“Priest,” I whisper, panting and faltering, pulling my hand from his. “I can’t run all the way to the Colony. They’re ahead of us already.” I point at the obvious, men casting a wide net as they scour fields and pastures in the direction of the only open gate, a gate that will no doubt slam closed long before our arrival.
My sister also ends her sprint to stand in the field, hidden by Priest’s Touch. Early autumn’s harvest brushes her thighs, her hair soft gold in the morning sunlight. She reminds me of the goddess in Heaven’s picture book, long hair streaming behind her, teeth of a gleaming crown rising from her head. That woman rode a white horse while drawing upon a silver bow, an unseen demon in the shadows bent on her destruction. I wonder if the same demon now rides on Rimma’s heels.
“She shouldn’t have slain him,” Priest says, shaking his head.
“Mikel wanted to hang you,” I remind him, as I catch my breath. “For nothing.”
“For his vision,” Priest says. “And we don’t know how committed he was to that threat. But that’s not what I mean, Angel. She’s darker, without a spark of light flowing through her. Where are the qualities that render her human at her core: compassion and kindness, empathy, love, remorse?”
“She did it to save you,” I argue.
“At the loss of herself,” he murmurs. “I don’t want your sister’s sacrifice on my shoulders. What will happen to you if she breaks, fully and utterly breaks?”
“I won’t abandon her no matter the consequences. I refuse to leave her.”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re not…” His bruised eyes bear shadows of worry.
“I’m not what? What are you afraid of?”
“We need to go,” he says, my final questions left unanswered. We join Rimma and hike the road toward the east gate, light bending around us.
Cullan and a party of horsemen thunder past, the colonel’s face chiseled with determination, his jaw clenched. When they reach the wall, the gate grinds slowly shut, sealing us in. I gaze up at Priest as we continue forward, his attention focused ahead, his grip on my hand tightening as he concentrates. Cullan shouts orders, directing more soldiers to the search, while others stand ready to guard the gate. Our pace is deliberate, slow and steady in contrast to the hectic preparations.
Yet a hundred yards distant, Priest halts, the intensity of his expression increasing. He lets go of my hand as a wisp of smoke curls at the base of the wood barrier. One at a time, the soldiers begin to turn until Cullan too reins his horse around. A flicker of vermillion light flashes against the gate as armed men begin to shout and back away. Fire licks up the thick wood, spreading along the base, black smoke rising like a beacon.
“Form a wall,” Cullan roars. At his command, soldiers line up in a semi-circle, backs to the burning gate, terror etched onto every face. “Tighten up. Don’t let them slip through.” He heels his horse and rides toward us. The gate blazes now, the entire structure engulfed in fire. Cullan halts in the road and stands in his stirrups. He gazes over our heads, unaware that we’re so close I can hear this breath.
“Priest,” he shouts. “I know you’re here. Surrender for Mikel’s murder, and I guarantee Rimma and Angel will go free.”
“No,” Rimma barks in reply. Priest’s eyes snap to her in warning. Cullan’s horse shies at the unexpected noise, stepping sideways in the cracked road, its eyes bulging. The colonel draws his sword, trying to judge where we stand.
Slowly, Priest edges us across the road and back a dozen paces. The fire on the gate roars of its own accord now. His eyes shift to Cullan’s men, his focus narrowing with effort. I grip his arm, shaking my head, horrified that they too will burst into flame. Priest ignores me, intent on his magic. I can’t bear it, a warning scream rising to my tongue. Then Rimma clamps a hand over my mouth, pressing my lips to my teeth, dragging me backwards.
“Fuck!” Cullan’s sword arm darts out, the blade flung into the old road. He shakes his hand wildly. “Fuck!” he bellows as behind him, his soldiers cast their blades aside and blow on their hands. He dismounts and kicks his blade across the stones and dirt.
Rimma releases me and I scramble to my feet, shouting furiously at her. Priest glances back and smiles at me apologetically. “They can’t hear you.”
My eyes shift to the colonel. He’s picked up his sword by the hilt with a stick and roars at his soldiers. No sound erupts from the furious mouth. The men stare at him and shout back, stunned at their own silence.
“I won’t use my Touch to kill,” Priest repeats for my benefit. “No one died. I’ve bent light round us and sound around them.”
In a fit of pique, Cullan gingerly slips his cooling blade into its sheath and mounts, riding back toward the burning gate.
“Slowly.” Priest offers me a weary hand, a gray cast to his dark face
.
I slip my fingers into his, and we start forward as Rimma unslings her bow, raising it to her shoulder. Priest stops to stare at her. “I’ll drop every protection, Rimma.”
“You’d sacrifice Angel?” she asks.
“I’ll protect the Colony,” he replies. “The Colony is doomed if I use my Touch to kill.”
“We won’t break through the line.” She jerks her head toward the wall, where Cullan organizes his men by yanking on their arms and pointing, lining them up shoulder to shoulder. “You think the Biters haven’t seen the smoke?” she asks. “There’s going to be a war here.”
“No killing.” I step beside Priest, echoing his conviction. “We’ll get through. They can’t stand there without moving for…days.”
“We don’t have days; we have hours,” she says, but lowers her bow. “Look at him.”
“I’m stronger than most,” Priest says in defense, but the effort of generating so much heat has sapped his strength. I recall how Mag once wilted after exerting her strongest Touch. “Let’s go,” he urges me. We walk as near as we dare and sit at the road’s edge where it crumbles into the grass.
The soldiers stand before us in a solid curve, two ranks deep, Cullan pacing before them, muttering words no one hears. More men arrive as an hour drags by, some carrying messages the colonel can’t hear. Slowly they create a perimeter around us. The gate smolders, a pile of hot coals except where the iron girding and hinges hold charred scraps tightly in place.
The colonel halts his pacing and marches toward us. He draws his sword and leaves it in the road as he advances another dozen paces, striding beyond us. Even though I see only his back, I can cypher meaning from his gestures. He points to his ears and mouth, ears and mouth.
“I’m here,” Priest says as he rises.
The colonel spins, searching for us and seeing nothing. A hand scrubs through his sandy hair and tugs at an ear as if shaking out the remnants of silence.
“Surrender, Priest, or when this ends, I’ll take a battalion of men to the Colony.”
“They had nothing to do with Mikel’s death,” Priest asserts as he approaches the colonel. “You’d merely add more innocent deaths to your tally.”
“You murdered the Fortress Commander,” Cullan barks to the empty air.
“I did,” Rimma says.
“Rimma?”
“He told me he planned to hang Priest. I couldn’t let him do that.” My sister and I join Priest to stand before the colonel.
“Why, Rimma? He loved you.”
My sister barely twitches, but I sense the massive vortex gaining speed inside her, ripping her apart, threatening to suck her down into nothingness. “Rimma?” I whisper, touching her arm.
Before she can speak, Cullan holds up a hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. The law is the law. I can’t let you walk out of here.” He blows out a breath. “This would be easier if I could see you.”
“If we’re visible to you, we’ll be visible to your men,” Priest explains. “If I bend light around you, you’ll see us, but your men won’t see you.”
“Fuck,” Cullan barks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just drop it all. I guarantee your safety while we talk.”
“And after?” Rimma asks.
“You can turn fucking invisible again,” he concedes.
“Get ready to address your men,” Priest advises him.
The light shifts and with a stunned backstep the colonel sees us…along with a hundred of his soldiers. Voices erupt from the ranks, weapons hurriedly rising as the men advance. Cullan raises his arms and shouts. “Parlay! Back off. Captain Gideon, I want two squads at my back. The rest of you get that shit away from the gate. Captain Khiry, find something to block the hole in our fucking wall.” He waits through the chaos as his orders filter through the ranks, and then looks from Priest to my sister as I remain in my strange place of absence.