Chapter Forty-Three

Elegy got the sense that the battle, in its current form, was finished. The enemy ships were pulling back, and the Dawnchaser had finished its low-level sweep and determined they were in the right location. Now it seemed like a standoff between the Beaconites in the air and the Cinder King's forces below.

She felt…fear. Not the blinding, sudden, debilitating fear of hands around your neck. The creeping, pernicious, omnipresent dread that things were slipping out of your control.

That wasn't her emotion. It was the Cinder King's. Her own emotions were still aflame. A fire that urged her to find another enemy, to keep swinging this magnificent machete that killed without wounding. To never stop moving, never stop attacking. Never. Stop.

But there was nobody else to kill, and she held herself back—with effort—from entering the cab of her ship and seeking a confrontation with the person piloting it. Instead, as the Dawnchaser swept close, she vaulted over the span between the two ships and grabbed hold of the railing.

Moments later, she pushed into the cab, where the woman Rebeke was at the controls. Elegy clutched her magical weapon. But she did not need to use it. The man, the killer, had explained. She could choose her moments. She could make them all the sweeter for having held back.

Rebeke turned—then smiled at her. A genuine smile, it seemed. She was glad to see Elegy. Granted, she'd acted that way before—but following the energizing thrill of the killing, knowing that in the back of her mind she'd been contemplating attacking Rebeke… It was such an incongruous thing to see an inviting smile.

She wants me to be here with her, Elegy thought. What is wrong with her?

It was disarming. Intriguing. Even…inspiring?

"Elegy," Rebeke said, cocking her head. "Are you well?"

"I…feel different."

"You're remembering," Rebeke said, grabbing her hand. "It's going to happen. You'll remember everything soon."

"Are you not," Elegy said, "supposed to be piloting?"

"Right!" Rebeke said, spinning toward her seat. She did something with the radio, and the killer's voice came on, speaking from one of the gunships.

"All right," he said. "Everyone be ready to swing down into the space I make for us."

"They're entrenched there," Confidence replied. "How are you going to make space for us? They'll shoot us if we land."

"You people…" the killer said, his voice…grumpy? That didn't seem an appropriate word for a man of his ferocity, so perhaps she did not understand emotions as well as she thought. "You spend your lives flying. How can you be so ignorant of the power of air superiority? I guess if you never go to war, and rarely stay in one place long… Well, just watch."

Elegy leaned forward and watched through the windshield as one of the gunships broke out of their formation. It swung around, then dipped, so its large anti-ship guns were pointed at an angle toward the ground. Then it swooped past the Cinder King's position, firing.

Turned out, being on the ground—and therefore immobile—when someone else had a ship with that kind of firepower was exciting. The type of excitement that most people didn't like. The type that involved ships exploding, people screaming and jumping out of the way. The killer was able to stay out of range and drop his shots with gravity—and while he could come in at full speed, they had to just sit there.

In moments, the Cinder King and his forces were scattered. Elegy nodded. It was an effective way to kill, but far too distant and unengaging for her taste. She'd have enjoyed being among those being shot at, perhaps. So much energy and alarm there.

Wait. No. That might get her killed. She was supposed to want to avoid that. After all, who would make certain Rebeke smiled if Elegy died?

A conundrum.

"That was certainly impressive," Confidence said over the radio. "But I offer this warning: if we land there, won't they have your ‘air superiority' over us?"

"Yup," the killer said. "Which is why I suggest we be quick about this next part. Everyone land and be ready to run for shelter. This is what we've been waiting for. It's time to open that door."

While everyone else did as he asked, Rebeke swooped in and—using a screen on the ship that told her where to look—activated the dirt movers on the Dawnchaser. Elegy left her to it, scrambling out onto the deck and jumping the twenty or so feet to the soft ground.

By the time the others had landed and gathered, Rebeke had uncovered something. A large metallic disc set into the ground, only about two feet under the ashen lava soil. Rebeke landed her ship and joined the group huddled around the disc.

The killer stopped at the edge of it, and Zeal joined him, handing up the smaller disc they'd all talked about as being some sort of key. The killer took this, looked it over, then tossed it back to Zeal before hopping down the several feet to land on the surface of the silvery thing.

There, he leaned forward and spoke in a loud voice. "Under the Refugee and Lost Expatriate Bill of Silverlight Codes of Interplanetary Conduct, I formally request asylum in this facility. Please respond."

Silence. Why wasn't he using the key? Elegy understood all those words, but the context eluded her. Instead she looked to the sky, where the Cinder King's forces—looking even more intimidating—were gathering around them.

Suddenly a cylindrical pole, maybe four feet tall, shot up from the metal below, emerging near the killer. A voice spoke from it, heavily accented, but in their language. "Wait. Are you Rosharan?"

"I am," the killer said. "I seek asylum under the—"

"Yes, yes. Fine. You can negotiate."

"These will need protection while we discuss," he said, gesturing to the others.

Silence. Elegy watched the sky, trying to feel the fear the others obviously did from their postures. It was difficult for her because the Cinder King was no longer afraid. He thought he had them.

Then a blast of energy ripped up from beneath the earth, shooting right across the Cinder King's bow. The ships pulled back in a panic. Since when did the ground shoot? It was a deliberate message: stay back.

"Fine," the accented voice said from the pole. "You may bring three people, Rosharan. We're only listening, mind you, because we're curious how you got here."

Another column rose beside the pole, this one much larger, and a door opened on the front. Some kind of…transport device? To carry them down into the Refuge?

"I assume I should bring the Greater Good?" he asked, turning toward the gathering townspeople.

"Bring Rebeke in my place," Compassion said from her chair, which her grandsons set down on the earth for her. "We should not send all three. Just in case. As you taught us."

The killer and Rebeke shared a glance, and he nodded, then paused, looking to Elegy. "I'll need that back."

Right. She still had the sword. She'd been clinging to it, but forced herself to extend it toward him. The weapon vanished from her fingers, turning to glowing mist, before she could deliver it.

The killer stepped closer, speaking softly. "You might be the only one these people have after this."

"I don't understand."

"If the next part goes poorly," he said, "try to protect them. I guess that's all I can ask."

"Poorly?" she asked, cocking her head. "Why would it go poorly?"

He just gave her a grim look. And that, she knew how to interpret perfectly. A battle was coming. For him.

"You're going to fight the people who live in the Refuge?" she whispered.

"Not physically," he said. "Which is unfortunate. Because I'm pretty sure I could win, if that were the case."

Leaving her with that cryptic statement, he entered the metal tube, joined by Confidence, Contemplation, and Rebeke.

A second later, the tube descended, taking them to the place of safety.