Children of the Wastes (The Aionach Saga Book 2) (58 page)

Lizneth grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him close,
nuzzling him snout to snout like a doe in heat, though her belly kept their
bodies a distance apart. Yorak stammered in surprise and tried to pull back,
but Lizneth’s other hand was already emerging from her cloak.

In a single smooth motion she drew the blade across Yorak’s
throat and released him. He stumbled backward, bearing the look of one betrayed.
A red bib dribbled down his chest. He steadied himself with his tail, then
bumped into the wall and slid to a seat against it.

Lizneth turned and screamed for Nawk. The voices down the
corridor were getting louder, so Lizneth went back for a look. Nawk was on her
way; the two collided as they rounded the corner from opposite directions.

“It’s messy,” Lizneth said, taking Raial into her arms.
“Cover their eyes. Don’t let them see.”

Yorak reached out with a languid arm, gurgling and spitting
at them as they passed. Nawk started up the stairs, but she was moving so
slowly Lizneth decided to put the nestlings down and let them climb the steps
themselves while she pulled Nawk along with her. The Marauders pounded down the
corridor behind them, a rumbling of spears and footsteps.

“You’ve got to move, Nawk. I know it’s hard, but we have to
get to that room.”

The nestlings scampered ahead while Ryn took the steps at a
more measured pace, crouching low to pounce on them one at a time. Lizneth took
Nawk’s hand and stayed with her until the pregnant dam fell to all fours and
followed Ryn’s lead, belly dragging over each stair as she ascended. Meanwhile
the clangor rose behind them, angry Marauders moving fast.

Raial and Thrin reached the top of the stairs and started
down the hall, unaware that their destination was the first room on the left.
Lizneth called them back, holding Sniverlik’s door open for them while they
scurried inside. Nawk still had a few stairs to go when the throng of
black-cloaked Marauders appeared at the bottom of the curved stairwell. Lizneth
found herself wishing she hadn’t left her spear downstairs, though a single
weapon would’ve done little to deter the whole mob.

Nawk stumbled on the last step and fell onto the upper
landing as the Marauders hit the halfway point on the stairs. Lizneth yanked
her sister up and shoved her through the open doorway. She slammed the door
shut as the Marauders were reaching the top. She scanned the room for the
wooden bar, which she found leaning against the wall in the corner.

“Get it,” she said, pointing. “Get me that thing.”

Ryn looked at her curiously. So did Thrin and Raial. Nawk was
so out of breath she wasn’t even paying attention.

“Get me that piece of wood there,” Lizneth said. She leaned
into the door and put all her weight behind it.

The first thud was strong, a sudden heavy clout from the
other side. The door sprang open an inch before crashing back into its frame.

Raial had the bar in hand, but he was so small he was having
trouble with it. A second concussive thud against the door made Lizneth’s feet
slip on the floorboards. It opened wider this time, but crashed home the same
way. She heard the Marauders yelling at each other, something about the right
way to open a blocked door. She hooked one foot around Sniverlik’s bench and
brought it skidding toward her, then flipped it upside-down and wedged it
beneath the door.

The next push felt like a coordinated effort by multiple
Marauders. The wedge held, and the door opened only a fraction of an inch. It
was stuck there though, and Raial dropped the wooden bar when one of the
soldiers jammed his spearhead into the opening.

Lizneth leaned out to snatch the wooden bar off the floor,
then dropped it into place on the brackets. “Come on,” she said, crossing the
room to the hearth. She grasped the stone groove and pushed until the hidden
panel slid open.

Nawk was leaning over Sniverlik’s desk, heated and
breathless. She studied the opening, then gave Lizneth a disapproving stare.
“You want me to go in there?”

“Better than having your babies eat—” Lizneth stopped
herself, remembering the nestlings were watching her. “Better than having them
taken away from you,” she finished.

Nawk waddled to the opening without another word. Lizneth
ushered them through, coaxed Ryn inside, and looked back to see an axe-head
crash through the door and shower the room with splinters. She slid the stone
panel shut behind her.

The tunnels glistened, echoing with every sound. Lizneth slid
past the others to lead the way. They followed the long downward slope for
several dozen fathoms before the path began to turn—first left, then right,
then left again. They descended until Lizneth stepped in something wet and
cold.

A puddle of salty rime water. Not just a puddle. The ripples
spread from her foot and cascaded across a glassy pool. Ahead, the slanted
tunnel ceiling plunged beneath the surface of the water.

“It’s flooded.”
Just like Deequol said. It’s a dead end.
We’re trapped
.

The Marauders were back there, and if they were any smarter than
a pile of saltrock, they would find the hidden panel soon enough.

“I’m going under,” Lizneth said.

“You can’t do that,” said Nawk. “Let’s just wait here a
while. They won’t find us.”

Lizneth shook her head. “Either the tunnel keeps sinking from
here and we’re completely stuck, or it’s just a brief dip, and it rises on the
other side. I have to try.”

“Don’t go too far, Lizneth. Please. I have no way to pull you
out if you do.”

Lizneth knew that was a promise she couldn’t make. She took
another step into the water. It was ice-cold; the coldest she’d ever felt.
Colder by far than the river back in Tanley. Colder still than the black waters
of the
Zherath Omnekh
.

The water rose to her knees, her waist, her chest. It was so
frigid her lungs wouldn’t let her exhale. She backed up a few steps, but the
silt caught her feet and pulled her down. With one final surge of resolve, she
plunged beneath the surface and swam, pushing herself along the walls with her
hands.

She felt the silt deepen beneath her. The walls narrowed,
forcing her to point her arms forward. Soon her back and belly were both
touching at the same time.

Then she got stuck.

Her belly caught on a ridge of hard saltrock, her spine snug
against the tunnel behind her. She exhaled the last of her air as she struggled
to backtrack. Unable to hold her breath any longer, she choked in a mouthful of
salty water. Her eyes shot open to take in the last moments of her life.

There was a glimmer ahead; faint, but brighter than utter
blackness. She pried herself loose and saw through the blurry penumbra of her
vision that the tunnel ahead was wider than it was tall. She was drowning.
There was no time to go back.

Twisting sideways, Lizneth propelled herself through the
narrow stretch of tunnel until she felt the walls widening again. Her lungs
screamed, her limbs already beginning to feel frozen and heavy. She righted
herself and stretched her arms until her forepaws came down in rough silt.
Churning forward, she dug her feet in and reached for the light.

Her head broke the surface. She sucked in a desperate breath
and exhaled in a fit of wet coughing. No sooner had she crawled to the shore
than she began to shiver violently. Water spilled from her mouth and nose as
she perched on her hands and knees, retching and sputtering. All she wanted to
do was stay there and breathe until she had wheezed out every last drop. But
she didn’t have time for that.

Her belly might’ve fit through the submerged length of
tunnel, but Nawk was further along in her pregnancy than Lizneth was. Light
filtered through the tunnel’s translucent walls from somewhere up ahead—a
hopeful sign. She couldn’t investigate it yet, though. Not while Nawk and the
others remained behind.

Going back didn’t seem to take nearly as long. When she came
up, Nawk gave her a frightened look. “There you are. I was starting to think
you’d drowned. What did you find?”

Lizneth heard them coming, gruff voices echoing down the
tunnel behind. “There’s air on the other side, but it’s a tight fit to get
through. The nestlings will have no trouble as long as they can hold their
breath. As for you… there’s a spot where it gets very small. You’ll have to
roll onto your side to make it.”

Nawk wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea. “How long of a swim
is it?”

Lizneth coughed, and felt the shivers coming on again. “One
breath. That’s all you need. Just one deep breath.”

“I don’t want to go, Sissy,” said Thrin, cowering behind
Nawk’s leg.

“Me neither,” Raial said.

Both nestlings began to cry.

Lizneth knelt down in front of them. “I know you don’t, but
you know what? Mama and Papa are waiting for us. They want us to come home
because they miss you both
so
much. So I’ll tell you what we’re going to
do. We’re going to count to three, and then we’re all going to go together.
Okay? Sissy’s going to push you through, super-fast. And before you know it,
we’ll all be on the other side.”

Thrin shook her head, then buried her face in Nawk’s leg. Ryn
yipped at her, then turned his head to listen as the Marauders drew nearer.

“I know it’s scary, but listen… Sissy will be with you all
the way.” Lizneth glanced at Nawk. “We’ve got to go.”

“I know,” Nawk said. She pointed at Ryn. “What about that
thing?”

“Will you take him?”

“Through the water with me? Uh, no thanks.”

“Nawk. Please.”

She sighed. “Oh, alright. You first.”

“You should go,” Lizneth said, shivering. “I’ve already been.
I can get through quicker. Just remember… it’s going to seem tight, but just
keep going and you’ll make it.”

Nawk took Ryn by the scruff of the neck and held him at arm’s
length as she waded into the water. “
Beh dyagth
, it’s cold. Why did I
ever listen to you?”

“Nawk. Remember to flip sideways when you get to the tight
part. Make sure Ryn is ahead of you. He’ll paddle out.”

Nawk gave her a disaffected glare, then drew a deep breath
and vanished beneath the water. Lizneth could hear the Marauders clearly enough
to make out what they were saying now. She stood beside Raial and Thrin, ready
to take them in her arms and swim for it. She couldn’t go too soon, though, in
case Nawk had trouble.

“I want to go back,” Thrin said.

No, believe me, you don’t
, Lizneth thought,
unless
you want to wind up like your older sisters, pregnant and holding onto life by
a thread
. “I know you do,” she said, taking first Raial, then Thrin, into
her dripping-wet arms. “But we’re going to see Mama and Papa.”

The first Marauder shouted when he saw them. Lizneth heard
them running, saw the glint of armor against the tunnel walls. She trudged into
the silt and told her little brother and sister to take the biggest, deepest
breath they had ever taken, and to hold it until Sissy told them to let it go.
Then she lowered herself the rest of the way in.

The world turned to water, and she began to swim.

CHAPTER 46

Regime

Merrick had seen Pilot Wax speak before huge crowds on
countless occasions. Never once had the Commissar used notes or a script. Wax
didn’t need aids like that; he always knew what to say, and he said it with
such conviction that no one ever doubted him. Today was a different story; Wax
neither knew nor meant what he was saying, yet he delivered his speech to the
people of the city north like the seasoned orator he was.

“Some of you may think I’m a man in his prime,” Wax began,
shifting his stance behind the podium on the second-story roof of the Carola
Street Opera House. It was too dangerous to let him speak from the street, so
Merrick had arranged for him to deliver his address from behind an armored
vestibule with a reinforced pulpit. “I’ve enjoyed serving this city for the
last eighteen years more than you will ever know. But the stresses of
leadership for a man in my position cannot be understated. I feel older than my
years, and I fear that to go on as Commissar of North Belmond would only
exacerbate the problem.”

“Who’s the new Commissar?” came the inevitable shout from
below.

Wax glanced at his notes as if to remind himself. His eyes
came to rest on his bandaged left hand, where a missing pinky and ring finger
were the only tokens Merrick had needed to take before he agreed to give this
speech. “My successor is… one of the most competent men who has ever worn the
mark.” Merrick could hear Wax convincing himself to sound honest as he said it.
“He has risen from humble beginnings to stand beside me as the second-ever
Commander of the Scarred Comrades, and it brings me great pleasure to introduce
him to you. Please give him a warm welcome. Ladies and gentlemen… Merrick
Bouchard.”

Merrick had instructed Wax to refer to him as
Commissar
Merrick Bouchard
, but he was willing to let that slide. He took the podium
under lukewarm applause, trying not to let the apathetic reception bother him.
They would be cheering him at the top of their lungs after they heard what he
had to say. One look at the sheer size of the crowd, a mix of northers and
southers together for the first time in generations, made him dizzy.

“I know the timing of this transition seems abrupt,” he said.
“The recent breach in our defenses has a lot of you worried about the security
of the city north and the future of Belmond in general. Let me assure you that
Commissar Emeritus Wax and I have been working tirelessly to reestablish peace
and order in the wake of these attacks. I believe our city will benefit most
from a system of open trade and open communication between its two halves, in
hopes that we might one day be united as one city, one people, and one cohesive
society, working together to forge a path of prosperity for decades to come.
That’s why I’ve chosen to pursue an open-border policy that would allow, on a
limited basis, any souther with goods, services, or skills that might benefit
the north to be granted temporal immunity from our current laws regarding
exclusionary privilege to previously certified individuals.”

The crowd broke out into a dissonant mixture of confusion,
cheers, and ridicule. It came as no surprise to Merrick that most northers
wanted the borders closed while most southers wanted them open. A gradual
relaxation of the rules had seemed the best course, but now he wasn’t so sure.
It had taken days to stop the riots after the southers broke through, and
Merrick knew he needed to keep the peace if he wanted his plan to succeed.

“I understand your concerns,” he continued, “and I want you
to know that just as Pilot Wax has been here to address your concerns in the
past, I’ll be here to do so from now on. You may feel like you’re alone; like
your neighbors to the north don’t know your struggles, or the people from south
of the Row have nothing to offer you. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
No matter which side of the line you’re from, we’re all going through the same
things—hunger, disease, low birth rates—and we’re better off facing them
together. Change is never easy. It requires sacrifice. Everyone has to
contribute toward the same goal if we want to find success. That’s the world we
live in. We have a responsibility to one another. So instead of arguing and
doing violence and stealing from each other, let’s make Belmond a place where
people can live without the fear and prejudice that have tarnished us for so
long.”

Mixed applause.

Merrick waited for quiet. It didn’t take long. “There’s one
last thing I want to make you aware of. I know some of you have sustained
injuries as a result of the recent rioting and street-fighting. You may or may
not have heard the rumors about a healer; a man who can cure an ailment with a
touch. I stand before you today proclaiming this: I am that man. I’m the healer
who’s come to save Belmond. Show me you’re loyal to this cause—that you’ll work
with me to make our city a better place for all—and I promise you, I’ll heal
your wounds, your impairments, your disease. I’ll make you whole again.”

Merrick left the podium with the crowd blaring its most
positive response yet. He and his captains and advisors accompanied Wax through
the Opera House and headed for the Hull Tower using a clandestine route which
took them down several side streets and along an underground passage or two.
Wax had escape routes mapped out all across his territory, knowledge of which
was reserved for a privileged few. Now that Merrick was a part of that group,
he’d resolved to learn all the nuances that came with the position. But Wax’s
time was running thin; whatever Merrick hadn’t learned from him already, he’d
have to discover on his own through trial and error.

It wasn’t long after they returned to the Hull Tower’s
ninth-floor office that a line of citizens began to form outside. Merrick
thought nothing of it at first, calling everyone to the conference room as
planned to discuss the new open-border policy. There were still two bullet
holes in the conference room wall, along with a faint pink stain where Pilot
Wax had blown a portion of Merrick’s head through the back of his skull. The
captains and advisors all tried to pretend the grisly remnants weren’t there,
but Merrick knew they replayed the events of that fateful day every time they
entered the room. That was fine by him; an eerie reminder of what befell those
who opposed Merrick Bouchard.

By late afternoon, the line outside the Hull Tower stretched
down the curved walkway, across the street, and into the haze of the city
beyond. It was less a line anymore than a mass of bodies, norther and souther
alike, sweat-stained and unruly, jostling for an audience with the new
Commissar. The healer.

After hours of debate with a team of advisors and military
commanders who still hadn’t come to grips with Pilot Wax’s deposition, Merrick
crossed to the window to look down on the gathering crowds. He suddenly felt
very vulnerable. The Hull Tower was finally his. Yet now that he was here, way
up in his fortress, he realized he would never feel safe leaving it again.

It was as if Toler Glaive had seen all this before it
happened.
I would never be happy boarded up in some rich man’s fortress,
watching life pass me by
, Toler had said. Now Merrick wasn’t sure he could
be happy any other way. Toler had known how famous the gift would make him.
What
you have… whatever it’s called. It’s gonna change how the world works
.

Toler had been right. Merrick
was
going to change the
world—starting with Belmond. To do that, he’d have to leave the safety of his
fortress and show the people his power. He thought of the energy station and
its endless supply of electricity. That station was the most important place in
the city as far as he was concerned. He’d have to pay a visit as soon as time
allowed. For now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. “I want to go
down to the street,” he said as he returned to the table.

The others shared glances.

Captain Feargus Brannon, a burly man with combed black hair
who commanded the Engineers, spoke up. “You’ll get mobbed if you do that.”

“We’ve been talking all day about how to bring north and
south together. Those people down there are never going to follow a man they
don’t know; a man who’s never done anything for them. Let me go down there and
show them what I can do.”

“What
can
you do?” Feargus asked.

“This dway saved my life once,” said Wax. “I would’ve been
dead long before now if it hadn’t been for him.”

Merrick was glad to hear him acknowledge that. The admission
wouldn’t save him, though—not any more than Merrick could save those people by
staying up here. “What would you do if you had the gift I have?”

Wax snorted. “I’d be down there in two seconds flat. It took
me years to earn the respect and admiration of the people, even though I was
the one who came up with the whole idea of a protected society where everyone
contributed toward the greater good. Plenty of people out there still don’t
like me. If I had a way to change that, like you do, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“My only hesitation is that people might start to think I
have no limits,” Merrick said. “That I can solve every problem, not just the
health-related ones.”

“What’s wrong with that? You’d be giving them hope. That’s
something a lot of people in this city have never had.”

“Hope isn’t good enough,” Merrick said. “Not anymore. They
need something they can see, and touch.”

Wax laughed again. “Never underestimate the power of
suggestion. If you can give people a reason to nod their heads, sooner or later
they’ll think they agree with you.”

“See, that’s where you and I differ.”

“You and I differ in more ways than one,” Wax said.

“I think people are more than sheep to be led around by the
nose.”

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Bouchard. You don’t rule a
city for two decades without picking up a few things along the way. What I
know, and what you have yet to find out, is that not only
can
people be
led around by the nose—they
want
to be. I applaud your faith in
humanity, but this overestimation of human free will is only going to leave you
disappointed in the end. Take it from me and trust in the tried-and-true, by
virtue of my own experience, which I’m now handing down for your benefit. Not
because I like you, or because I don’t wish I could put a gun to your head and
blow your coffing brains out—or even because I want to do you a favor out of
the goodness of my heart—but because when I’m gone, I don’t want the city I’ve
built crumbling to shit because some upstart chair jockey thought he could
handle something about which he had not a single coffing clue. Learn from your
elders, Bouchard. Watch and listen, and if this plan of opening the borders
doesn’t cave in like a coffing sinkhole, maybe one day you’ll hear the echo of
the round of applause I’m giving you from beyond the grave.”

“That was lovely,” Merrick said. “I feel like we all owe you
a round of applause right now.”

No one clapped.

Merrick heard a thump through the ceiling above. Wax had
shown him the blueprint for his refurbished penthouse apartment on the Hull
Tower’s tenth floor earlier that morning, and he’d been waiting to see it ever
since. He ignored the noise. “Alright, then. You don’t like my plan. You’ve
made that clear, and that’s fine. You won’t be around long enough to know
whether it succeeds. For now, we’ll agree to disagree. You still think I should
go down there, though, don’t you?”

Wax nodded. “I hope they tear you to shreds. For the sake of
your political aims, I do think it would be a good idea. You can still work
with me as a member of my leadership team. It’s not too late to reconsider.”

“You’re done, Wax. You’re two fingers down already. The next
time you even suggest staying in power, I’m taking a thumb. As soon as this
meeting is over, I’m going down to the first floor. Now, aside from the
logistics of allowing a greater number of undocumented citizens to enter the
northern territories, which we’ve already discussed, what other setbacks do we
need to account for?”

“Our supply lines aren’t what they used to be,” said
sharp-nosed Captain Felix Mazlan, whose Armory Division was tasked with
logistics and inventory as well as armament and weapon stockpiles for the
Scarred.

“Why’s that?” Merrick asked.

“We’ve been under a great deal of strain over the last
several months. The shortage is happening because somehow the nomads keep
wiping out the trade caravans before they can get here. We’ve had a total of
maybe four trains since the start of the long year.”

Merrick frowned. “You still aren’t getting new caravans? When
was the last time you had one come through?”

“Must’ve been three months now.”

Merrick couldn’t believe it. He’d been here when that train
came through. It was the one responsible for his chance meeting with Toler
Glaive. “There hasn’t been a single train since that one?”

Felix shook his head.

“The southers have been swimming in new trade, thanks to the
savages,” Merrick said. “I didn’t think you all had it that bad up here,
though. I assumed at least
some
of them had been getting through.”

“Not a one.”

“So, then… how is the city north getting by?”

“We’ve been living off our reserves for the past year or so,”
Wax said. “We were in talks last week to accelerate development on the power
station. Then you showed up with your ragtag band of revolutionaries and forced
us to focus our energies elsewhere.”

“What about the crops you grow here? What about the factories
and the animal processing plants? Isn’t any of that helping?”

Wax leaned back in his chair. “You want to know what was
helping? Putting a limit on how many people were allowed to live here on a
permanent basis. This city has plenty of raw materials to trade away to the
rural corners of the Aionach. That’s how we bring in enough food to feed
ourselves in the long-term. Without that trade, we’re barely breaking even
trying to produce enough to sustain the population. We need a larger workforce,
and we need to get birth rates up. Letting in a bunch of mutants and elderly
folks who can’t hold a job and have no reproductive value isn’t going to help
us.”