Smoke and Shadow: The Fireweaver, Book 1

Chapter 29. FORGOTTEN ONES

CHAPTER 29. FORGOTTEN ONES

The darkness was worse every time Dimarrah found herself in it. But she couldn't let herself lose control in front of Mehlie and the boy. They moved, single file, through the ventilation tunnels. Soon, they'd be out of vials. Quicker now, with four of them. And there were only the two breathing masks. But the system hadn't restarted, thank the gods.

Vane's voice led them along, a steady beacon of sanity in the darkness. An aerial-view holo-pic hovered in front of Rhoke. Enough to light their faces, reflecting wide-eyed stares. 

"There's an opening ahead," said Vane, "it leads into one of the Lab's decontamination rooms—" The audio was silenced. Any attempts to send messages went undelivered.

They were on their own now.

They walked two abreast, shining wristscreens into the plunge of darkness until they reached a large grate, the kind of metal fabrication from before the Fall, with bolts and rivets and the blades of a fan just beyond. The kind of heavier metal work not used anymore in the cities.

They crowded around the grate, shining light through the slats, onto the fan blades inside. You could see just enough of the room beyond. It would be quite a drop down to the floor, as the vent was placed high, near the ceiling.

Dimarrah made a move to melt through the bolts, starting to pull off her gloves, but Rhoke stopped her with a hand on her arm, pointed to a discreet unit on the ceiling of the room beyond.

Smoke detector. His voice threaded into her mind with none of the echo of the tunnel behind it.

Smoke in the tunnel was the last thing they needed. An instant beacon telling the Uruques exactly where they were.

Rhoke felt along the edges of the metal, found a seam that likely hadn't been opened in centuries. When he found a good grip on the top corner of the grate, he peeled back the metal as though it were made of plastic.

"How did you do that?" Santoine blinked a few times as though doubting his own vision. Dimarrah heard the tinge of fear in his tone even before she saw their eyes, full of shock, above the masks.

Rhoke finished prying the grate off, bolts and all, a piece that easily weighed a hundred pounds and set it down with a thud that echoed. He started removing the fan blades. If the system were suddenly turned on, the fan might spin around, suddenly sever an arm, so he worked quickly, bending the metal, twisting the blades off as if he were plucking petals off a daisy. His fingers were bloody and torn though; Dimarrah could see the slick blackness over his hands in the dark. But he would heal quickly.

Dimarrah said nothing to Santoine. She met Mehlie's eyes in that tunnel, as Rhoke continued to set down the hunks of metal. The look on Mehlie's face was unmistakable. Recognition, beyond the shock. She knew what he was.

"He's a Shadow Walker," Mehlie whispered.

"Impossible," Santoine said, but with as much open awe as Mehlie.

Rhoke removed just enough of the blades for them to get by, one by one as the tight space allowed. 

"You first." He nodded to Mehlie.

"What?"

"Feet first. Give me your hands. I'll lower you down as much as I can." Mehlie looked horrified.

"You don't have extra rope in your many pockets?" Dimarrah said, which was the wrong thing, because Rhoke sent her a glare before turning back to Mehlie.

"It's a six foot drop. You'll prefer that to facing an Uruque. Now get in." There was something more to his tone than just impatience.

Fear.