Chapter 9

They came out in sunlight, in an alleyway behind a building whose windows were all closed and dark. Nathaniel squinted against how bright it was, glad to be out of the catacomb tunnel and its tight space. The number of revenants Caris and Soren had burned through had been concerning, and he tried not to think about the dust and ash coating his trousers, telling himself none of it was spores.

Their small group had survived the revenants below, and Soren made sure the grate that doubled as a hatch was secured and locked. Revenants couldn't really climb, but no one wanted to take the chance of leaving an access point open to that threat.

"Does anyone know where we are?" Caris asked.

"Between the second and third inner city walls. Southeastern quadrant, so we won't have to cross the Serpentine River," Blaine said, looking at the map.

"We'll just have to cross every Daijalan soldier on duty between here and the civic center. At least the uniforms will help," Maurus said.

"We just need to make sure no one on our side of the fight shoots at us," Soren said mildly.

Nathaniel watched as Blaine unclipped a televox from his belt, flicking it open with his thumb. "I'll ring Honovi and get an assessment of the walls if he answers."

They could all hear the distant sound of explosions, which meant the fighting from last night hadn't stopped. What advance their side of the battle had made was impossible to know from their current position.

Waiting for the jarl to answer the call was a tense few moments. Blaine's shoulders never lost the tightness to them, even when it was obvious someone had answered the call. "Good to hear your voice. My group is in. What of the skies?"

The call was brief, lasting only seconds, which made sense if Honovi was captaining an airship in the midst of battle. Blaine's expression of grim determination didn't change, but at least Nathaniel didn't see any grief in his eyes.

"Any news?" Caris asked worriedly.

Blaine nodded. "He couldn't say much, but he did say most of the anti-aircraft guns have been destroyed."

"They probably took portions of the outer wall with them. We'll have to expect revenants in the streets in the outer neighborhoods," Soren said.

"Honestly, I wouldn't put it past Eimarille to release them in every neighborhood."

Amari had restricted travel since last year while under occupation. The silence from people they'd left behind after the riot—most notably Meleri's oldest daughter, Brielle, and her family—came with a waning hope they'd find anyone alive. Considering the accusations and executions Eimarille had indulged in for weeks while visiting the nobility in Ashion some months back, Nathaniel knew the odds weren't good.

"Let's get moving," Maurus said, holding his long rifle up against his chest. "We have a ways to go before we reach the inner wall."

The wardens were placed in the center of the formation Maurus ordered everyone into. It put everyone wearing a Daijalan military uniform on the outside of the group, giving the impression those in the center were prisoners being escorted somewhere, though Nathaniel didn't know how anyone would miss the weapons on the wardens. Maurus had Nathaniel marching up front with him, as they would rely on the vivisection scars Nathaniel carried to hopefully get them past any checkpoints. If they were operating under orders of the Klovod and Eimarille through a supposed rionetka, then hopefully no one would question their passage.

"Don't remove your gear or your veil," Blaine told Caris.

She nodded. "I won't."

They left the alleyway at a quick march that Nathaniel struggled to match the first few steps, but he soon fell into the rhythm of it. No vehicles were on the main street, with many of the shop and apartment windows they passed boarded up. He couldn't tell if they'd been abandoned or if it was in defense of the fighting going on. The capital was eerily empty where they were, with most of the soldiers likely assigned to the trenches outside the city or on the outer wall. That didn't mean no one was patrolling the streets.

They turned a corner, coming upon a barricade of stone and barbed wire cutting across the street at the other end of the block. Iron caltrops designed large enough to stop a tank were scattered up and down the street. Their group wasn't immediately fired upon, and Nathaniel wondered if it was due to the uniforms or because they were so blatantly walking where the enemy typically wouldn't.

"Hold your position for identification," someone called out through a bullhorn, the crackle of feedback loud in the air.

"I'll do the talking, but be ready to act as a rionetka if needed," Maurus muttered.

Nathaniel nodded and watched warily as two soldiers extracted themselves from behind the barricade and jogged toward their position. They wore helmets and brass goggles, but their gas masks were hooked to their belts rather than being worn. Their rifles were held across their chests, ready to bring up and shoot at a moment's notice.

"What is your squad doing here? All soldiers not on barricade duty were told to report to the trenches," the woman said, the chevron patch on her shoulder identifying her as a sergeant.

"We were sent back from the front by our captain," Maurus replied. "These wardens defected, and we're escorting them to their debrief."

The sergeant didn't seem convinced. "Prisoners that have some worth are to be remanded into custody at the jail. Debriefing is not part of the process right off the battlefield."

"The Klovod is expecting these wardens," Nathaniel said, taking a risk to join the conversation. At the sergeant's sharp look, Nathaniel slowly raised his hands toward his throat, undoing the buttons of his uniform jacket and the shirt beneath, pulling back the clothes to reveal the vivisection scars on his chest. "I have my orders, and the soldiers with me are helping me to complete them."

"Rionetka. No better than the walking dead." The sergeant spat on the cobblestones between them. "All right, then. We'll escort you past the barricade."

"The squadrons at the wall couldn't spare a vehicle from the fight. Do you have one available?"

"There's a truck you can use."

She offered it up reluctantly, but requests from a rionetka were as good as one sent by their high command, it seemed. Nathaniel's predicament got them past the barricade and into a troop transport truck that would cut their traveling time in half. He sat up front with Maurus while the rest took seats on the benches beneath the cloth canopy on the truck bed behind the cab.

They were barely around the corner of the block when the narrow window between the cab and the truck bed was pulled down. Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at Caris as she leaned forward, clearly not buckled in. "We need to head for the jail."

"That isn't where the starfire throne is," Maurus said, staring straight ahead.

"No, but it's where the broadsheets said my parents were being kept."

"You don't know that for certain," Blaine said from deeper in the truck, his voice a little muffled. "Those stories are weeks old by now."

"The jail, Maurus. Please don't force me to make it an order."

The desperate urgency in her voice made Nathaniel briefly close his eyes. "I could maybe talk our way inside?"

"We don't know if that will work again," Maurus argued.

"It's worth trying." Nathaniel opened his eyes and craned his head around, feeling the vivisection scars pull with the motion as he twisted in his seat. He reached for Caris' hand where it was curled over the window edge, resting his on top of hers. "It has to be."

"It will be a trap," Blaine warned.

"Everything inside this city is a trap," Caris said.

They'd spring every last one if it meant they got her on the starfire throne, but Nathaniel knew she'd hate the cost of it—that she already did.

Nathaniel gave her hand a firm squeeze before facing forward again. "Head for the jail. I'll play my part."

Eimarille had turned him into a rionetka with the intent of using him against Caris and Ashion. Now, he'd use that same status to undermine her the same way she'd done to every country in Maricol.