Lightning Only Strikes Once - Clexa

Chapter 89: A Song of Ice and Arson

Ontari's body on the floor looks smaller than it should. It's the first time Clarke's actually realised that Ontari is shorter than her, slighter than her, and younger than her. Splayed out like that there's nothing menacing about her. Clarke doesn't let herself wallow in guilt though – she did what was necessary. It was self-defence.

"Hei," Gustus says, keeping his voice low but urgent. "Clarke kom Skaikru, there is still time to -"

"A lot of things are about to explode, and Roan's out slitting throats," Clarke says, matching his tone. "There's no cover-up for this. Either we survive together or we don't. I vote survive. Hold this." She hands him the torch through the bars. "Hold it as far back as possible, too."

She gropes through the inside lining of her coat – currently containing lots of dried meat – and manages to find the little tied-up bundle of gunpowder. Carefully, she tips about half of it into the lock on the door. She ties up the bundle again and stows it away carefully, then moves to the very left of the cage and holds her hand through the bars again. "Pass it back to me. And go as far into the corner of the cage as you can. Make yourself as small a target as possible." He hesitates but obeys.

Clarke manages to wedge the torch against the bars so that the very tip of the flame is nearly touching the lock. Then she moves back and around the corner. It takes longer than she expects – probably only twenty seconds, but it feels like a dozen times that – and she nearly leaves her cover to check what's happening and move the torch closer. She's glad she didn't when there's a flare of heat and light that feels like it dries her skin instantly. There's no loud explosion though and she remembers Raven never used just gunpowder by itself to try and break things, she always had multiple ingredients.

The lock's cracked and blackened, but not broken. Gustus looks a little burnt and shocked as well. Clarke yanks at it and the lock jangles but holds, then Gustus growls "Back," to her and heaves against it. Even tortured and malnourished, he's stronger than her, and the heated, battered lock cracks apart, finally allowing the door to open.

"Right," Clarke gasps, winded. "Now your chains." She stares at them. They look even tougher than the lock. "I don't know if I can..."

He looks at her and lets out a quiet curse. "Whatever you have remaining to weaken it, use there," he says shortly, pointing at the place where one of the chains joins to the ground. "This one I can get out as I did before." She winces as once again he manages to pull his hand out of the manacle, scraping off skin and seemingly breaking his thumb. As she watches, though, she realises he's not breaking it – he's double-jointed in that hand and is using that. One of his fingers is definitely injured though and the scabs of his last attempt are torn off.

She hastily pours the rest of the grey powder around the base of the other one, then grabs the torch and angles it towards that before darting back, biting back a curse when she puts too much weight on her still-healing ankle. Gustus moves as far back as he can with the chain and, as Clarke watches, takes hold of the middle of it with both hands and pulls at it as strongly as he can manage. She turns her head as the gunpowder goes off so she doesn't get blinded, but she still hears the tortured whine as Gustus manages to detach the chain off the ground. He loops it around his neck tiredly so it doesn't get in his way, avoiding the still-hot end of it.

"The stables," Clarke says, grabbing Costia's bow down without looking at it and hooking it over her shoulder. Gustus nods, already looking exhausted. They stagger that way together. Behind Clarke, there's a sudden loud noise, a bang. The flour, maybe. Someone yells. Glancing back Clarke can see the warm glow of raging fires.

In the stables she uses her dagger to lever out the stone the book's under. As soon as she's got it, she shoves it into Gustus' hands. "For you," she says, "You're the new Fleimkepa." She's Lexa's second-in-command. She's not the Fleimkepa, she doesn't want to be. Gustus will do a better job than her anyway, she's sure. She ignored his protests and goes to the far wall where some tack is hanging, and grabs the three horse blankets there. Gustus isn't very covered up, and this is the best option they have. Snowball sticks his head over and makes a noise of friendly greeting.