I stand stock-still as the quiet Waster woman, Ayana, moves around me and patiently adjusts the soft, sand-coloured fabric draping my torso. I am swathed in several protective layers of clothing, including an oversized scarf that can be used to cover my telltale hair. When Ayana arrived in my chambers this morning, her arms laden with endless folds of the light material I at first balked, protesting that I would overheat. The dark, wild-haired woman simply smiled softly and indicated that I should undress.
My sighs of exasperation were stifled when I realized the freedom of movement the Waster clothes afforded me. By utilizing long strips of tightly-wound material to cover my arms and legs, I am protected from the sun's unforgiving rays as well as the the sharp, blowing shards of sand.
Sera enters the bedroom and places an assortment of feathers and leather on my bed. She picks through the pile dutifully as Ayana points out which pieces they will use to complete my outfit.
I shut my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to quiet the anxious patter of my heart as the women weave my hair into thick ropes, pulling any wayward strands away from my my face and tying off the ends with long feathers. They cover my eyes with a heavy coating of kohl, smearing the powder dramatically across my brows and down to my cheekbones.
My wrists and knuckles are wrapped in strips of worn leather so that my hands won't get calloused. A long, faded tunic is slipped over my head and cinched at my waist and I slip my feet into an ankle-high pair of soft leather boots.
As a final touch I trade in my trusty belt for a pack that fits snugly over both of my shoulders and sits high against my spine. My dagger remains within easy reach, fitted into one of the straps crisscrossing my chest. When the women are satisfied I am finally released, placing a hand on Ayana's arm in thanks and shooting Sera what I hope is a reassuring smile as I stride from the room.
The flexible boots muffle my footsteps and I am able to descend the stairs and pad down the hall soundlessly. The soldiers and warriors, most of whom I recognize from our journey on Phoenix are gathered in the expansive hallway, two dozen men and women speaking in low tones as though there is some impoliteness in raising their voices prior to dawn.
The Wasters are dressed similarly to me. Their faces painted into ferocious masks, heavy paint striping across their eyes, chins and cheeks, each person clutching a staff or spear in their leather-clad fist. Will's soldiers are decked out in full army regalia with a variety of knives and swords affixed to their belts. As I sidle up next to Marc I don't miss the unmistakable atmosphere of restlessness surrounding the group.
I roll my eyes at my friend's exaggerated double-take of my appearance. "Hey, Red." Marc's normally clear brown eyes are shadowed but his familiar grin is unchanged. "You look amazing."
"Thanks." I glance down at my unfamiliar clothes and back up. "I have to say, this is a hell of a lot more comfortable than that scratchy City wear."
"Well, look who's suddenly too good for our modest fashion." Marc teases, flicking one of the feathers dangling off of my hair and laughing when I shove him back.
The murmurs of conversation die off as one by one we turn our focus towards the couple approaching from the far end of the hall.
Meg and Jaron stride forward purposefully, their shoulders aligned and their chins held high. I subconsciously adjust my own posture at seeing them, feeling a swell of pride bloom across my breast at their approach. Around me the soldiers and warriors shift slightly, each person standing at once to attention. Surrounded by these old friends and near-strangers I have never felt a stronger sense of camaraderie. Whatever mistakes we have made, whatever flaws we possess, at least we share this one grain of unwavering loyalty to our leaders.
The Queen and the chief halt a few yards from us, their expressions set in identical looks of grim determination. A high colour has risen to Meg's cheeks and Jaron appears positively fearsome, painted and clutching a heavy wooden spear. Together, they are an unwavering force of strength, refusing to be reckoned with.
"Friends." Meg speaks first, unlacing her fingers and lifting her palms so that they face up. "I first wish to commend your bravery and your sense of honour. Myself, chief Jaron and all of our people owe you a great debt. It is my regret that I do not have the words to stress the proper amount of gratitude to which you are owed." Her blue eyes rest on each person in turn, acknowledging every individual man and woman.
"We go out into the Wastelands with the intention of avoiding combat." Jaron's voice contrasts Meg's smooth tone, reverberating off the walls around us. "But if pushed we will fight." The assorted Wasters let loose a sudden, booming cry of affirmation and I flinch.
"This is a single war and a single enemy." The chief continues with rising fervor. "In battle, there is no Waster and no Miner. We are one. We will protect one another. Each person is your sister, is your brother." His gaze darts momentarily to the fringes of the crowd, coming to rest on Luca. "Fight as though you are family."
This time we all shout out in solidarity, spears and staffs rattling in the air. My heart lifts in the same instant, feeling part of a beat larger than my own.
"Commander Cain and I will not lead you adrift." Jaron beats his fist against his thick chest, gesturing to Will standing at the forefront of the group. Will nods once sagely and returns the gesture. His jaw is clenched, his dark hair and beard newly-trimmed. "Trust in us. We will fight alongside you. Your risk is our risk, your death is our death, your triumph is our triumph!"
Three guttural cries from the crowd as we beat our chests. Palace employees and tenants, drawn out by our shouts gather in the archways dotting the hall, stoic expressions etched across their various faces.
"Travel safe, my friends." Meg's clear voice carries over the din. "This is the first day of a new war. Go forth, watch over one another and return victorious."
The assorted crowd joins in for our final war cry, casting a bone-shaking reverberation throughout the hall. On Will's command the soldiers turn and disappear down the servant's passageway, heading for the hidden entrance leading underground. I hang back, exchanging a tight greeting with Will when he brushes by me. I notice Rowan for the first time, her head ducked low as she skirts the fringes of the group.
Jaron is the last to enter the tunnel. I wait, averting my eyes when he brushes Meg's cheek softly, murmuring under his breath. He turns and maneuvers past me, clapping a heavy hand down on my shoulder as he strides past.
Meg quirks a small smile when I step up in front of her, wordlessly spreading her arms and pulling me to her. We remain that way for a long time, with my face buried in the crook of her neck and breathing in her safe, familiar scent. Neither of us says a word, content to remain together for as long as we have left.
When we draw apart my vision is blurred. Meg brandishes a white handkerchief seemingly from out of nowhere, dabbing her eyes before cupping my chin and touching the fabric gently around my kohl-smeared face.
"Enough, now. We can't have you ruining that lovely makeup." She tuts. The bright linen comes away ruined, covered in black stains.
"You're right, of course. Prioritees." I blink and straighten, peering up at her. She appears wan, tired but determined. I wonder briefly about the supplies of food we have rationed, knowing that Meg will have her work cut out for her while we are gone.
"You're going to be all right out there, aren't you?" She asks but it doesn't feel like a question.
"Of course I will. I always am."
"You always are." She affirms, sighing softly. We embrace once more, squeezing each other tightly before I slip away, disappearing into the servant's corridor before my eyes begin to mist again.
As I pull the hidden door shut behind me I have a sudden flash of memory. Having trailed the King into this very tunnel during the Rebellion, I am more than familiar with the steep stone stairs and tight walls. The difference from the last time I was down here, however, is that there is now a steady murmuring of voices ahead of me and enough torchlight to illuminate my path.
I skip down the steps quickly in an effort to quell my fluttering heartbeat. As I descend I remind myself that this tunnel is nothing like the gaol, that this passage cannot exercise any control over of me. All the same, I am grateful to reach the group and push myself into the centre of the crowd, drawing calmness from the affirmation that I am not alone.
We tread through the bunker and into the tunnel at the far end. This is where the King gifted me the heinous scar covering my shoulder. I twitch involuntarily when we pass through the archway.
After what feels like an eternity we draw to a halt. I crane my neck to look around the people in front of me, straining to make out the activity taking place at the front of the group. Will pushes on the wall ahead of us, bodily shoving it to the side and revealing another room beyond. We file forward, passing through what appears to be some sort of ancient closet before finally emerging in the tube station.
As soon as I step foot on the platform I turn in place, squinting to read the red and blue sign dotting the wall.
"Toer Hil." I mutter under my breath.
The Wasters and Miners jump down onto the tracks but Will, Jaron, Luca and I hang back. Rowan slinks past us and down onto the tracks, averting her eyes and standing a ways back from the rest of the soldiers. She appears thinner than when I last saw her and I catch more than one ugly glance being thrown in her direction.
"We will part ways here." Will's voice interrupts my thoughts. He is kneeling on the ground over what looks like an ancient piece of parchment. Faded, coloured lines marr the paper, crossing over one another and stretching outwards. Will's finger touches one of the markings, tracing from the bottom of the paper up to the top right.
"The green line. District." Jaron looks between myself and Luca. "Rowan believes that the stranger's ships come from that direction. We will stick to this path for now."
Luca nods tightly. I commit the North Easterly direction to memory, trusting Luca to know where to find the subsequent stations.
"We will meet at the next terminal." Will rolls the map back up and rises to his feet, tucking the parchment into his jacket pocket. "Aldgate East. Keep your eyes peeled and avoid drawing attention to yourselves at all costs. If you see something, anything at all..." He glances over at me. "Keep to the line. You must check in with us at every station. No exceptions."
I feel a jolt of annoyance, eager for him to wrap it up so that I can get aboveground. "No problem." I glance down the length of the tunnel, squinting into the darkness. "Is there a Waster camp on that part of the line?"
"I do not believe so." Jaron appears anxious to get moving as well. "But we are prepared to spread the truth and rally support if we come across any tribes."
"Great." I look back at Will. "I guess that's it, then. See you at the next station."
His eyes flick across my face before he nods once, tightly. "Be careful."
"You too. Mind the gap."
We part ways, Luca and I jogging lightly up the worn, crumbled steps while Will and Jaron lead our motley crew along the tracks and into the gaping maw of the tube tunnel.
We spiral upwards, our footsteps pattering softly in the abandoned hallway before we arrive at a tightly-wedged door. With both of us shoving mightily we manage to swing it outwards, blinking at the sudden assault of sunlight.
"This way." Luca inclines his head and we set off. I glance over my shoulder and back towards the City, committing the receding image to memory before hiking my pack up higher on my shoulders and trailing Luca's figure up the hill.
We run at a steady clip, our breaths and footsteps falling into sync almost instantaneously. I continually glance up at the expanse of blue above us, shielding my eyes against the sun as I scan the sky for ships.
While we travel I wonder briefly at the futility of this vague plan. What are the odds of the Madam already knowing that we are coming for her? Being that she was aware of us long before we knew of her, I cannot afford to doubt the breadth of her knowledge for even a moment.
We have only been running for a few minutes before Luca draws to a stop, walking towards a dune and scanning its surface.
"We're here already?" I ask incredulously.
"Each station is less than a mile apart, mostly." Luca's dark brows are knotted together as he walks to the next dune, digging his hands into the loose sand at its base in an effort to locate the hidden tube entrance.
"And we have to check in at every single one? This is going to take ages." I move to the dune opposite, brushing vaguely at the sand, skimming my fingers along it.
"I said the same to Jaron, but he argued that it would take them longer to travel from below, and that I must be patient so that our parties do not drift too far apart." Luca grunts, glancing up at the sky again.
I sigh, digging my hand further into the sand and nearly falling when I meet no resistance.
"Ah, you have found the way in." Luca strolls over, shoving aside the draped length of fabric disguising the entrance and disappearing into the darkness beyond.
We are waiting on the platform by the time Will appears. I give a small wave, shaking my head to indicate that we haven't seen any ships yet. Will nods his understanding and we part ways once again, with Luca and I returning to the surface and Jaron and Will disappearing into the next darkened archway.
The next several hours pass tediously. We continue searching the skies as we run across the great expanse of desert but as soon as we relax into a steady clip Luca is forced to grind our progress to a halt. We then skim the sand dunes for the entrance to the underground and spiral below, down to an always-identical abandoned platform. Twice we come across a small Waster camp but Luca's presence and Jaron's imminent arrival means that we are never met with hostility. For the most part people seem willing to join up with us when the time is right.
I am sitting slumped forward on a platform, my eyelids feeling heavy as Luca and I again wait for the rest of our party.
A sharp elbow digs into my side just as I am drifting off, jolting me to attention. Will and Jaron emerge from the tunnel and immediately look up to us. I give a thumbs down and signal for them to come over. Will calls for a break and there is a shuffling of packs being opened while the soldiers dig into their rations.
"What is it?" Will asks as he and Jaron draw up in front of us.
"These frequent meet ups are interfering with the amount of time Luca and I can look at the sky." I tell them. "The long minutes we spend waiting for you underground are moments a ship could be passing overhead."
"What do you suggest?" Jaron asks as Will wrinkles his brow.
"We leave a note." I reach for the spear I have laid on the ground behind me, bringing it around and digging the blunted end into the blackened stone between the tracks. Standing, I withdraw the stained weapon and use it to create a crude drawing on the platform.
"We will write the direction we are next headed." I explain, pointing to the scrawled letters. "N, E and X. It means continue North East and we haven't spotted anything yet."
Jaron glances from the message and up at Will. "It would be more efficient."
Will's jaw is clenched tightly. "You must leave one of these notes at every third station."
"Tenth." I counter.
He shoots me a dark look but I don't miss Jaron and Luca's mouths twitching.
"Fifth." Will's voice is low in warning and I can't resist pushing him further.
"Ninth. And I will sweeten the deal by also leaving you the prettiest rock I can find." I raise my eyebrows in mock-seriousness.
"Every fifth station, and if you spot anything you will wait and meet up with us at the earliest opportunity." His humour is decidedly lacking. Clearly, this is the most leniency I am going to receive.
"Agreed." I scramble to my feet, strapping my spear to my back once again. "Try not to miss us too much."
"Luca." Jaron raises his voice and the younger Waster stiffens. "You will remember to be patient."
Luca doesn't bother to hide his annoyance but nods curtly, either in agreement or acknowledgement. For once the tension between the Waster brothers doesn't concern me; at the moment I am simply anxious to put this dank tunnel to my back and return to the sun.
Once outside we immediately set off, our booted feet kicking up a low dusting of sand as we stray away from the dunes dotting the tube line and instead make our way into the barren expanse of desert. Out here, our visibility is increased tenfold and we are able to scan the sky without impediment. I relax fully into the run, my shoulders in line with Luca's as we jog side by side, the land in front of us unfolding endlessly.
My ears fill with the gentle lull of our even breaths and shifting sand. Occasionally a bird will circle overhead or the wind will toss a fresh dusting of golden sand in our path but for the most part we run gloriously unencumbered. I feel my muscles loosen with each step, unfolding and releasing my tension as I succumb to the exquisite power I hold over my body.
When Luca finally slows I barely register it, already so used to matching his stride. We alter our course, returning to the shadowy respite of the dunes and gradually drawing to a stop, slumping down against one of the soft banks of sand and passing a flask of water back and forth.
Luca drinks deeply, running a hand across his damp beard. "Your idea to leave a message on the platforms was a good one."
"Not just a pretty face." I raise an eyebrow at him.
He studies me for a moment before replying. "It is strange to see you dressed as a Waster."
"If you think this is strange, you should have seen me in a ballgown." I lean back against the sand, folding my arms behind my head. "This getup is a great deal more practical."
He releases the small puff of air that I have come to take for a laugh. My eyes dart across the sky reflexively, as always met with nothing but impassive blue emptiness.
"It worries me that we have not spotted any ships yet." Luca voices my thought aloud.
I bite my lip. "It could take a few days. We aren't even certain that we are headed in the right direction."
I watch him from the corner of my eye. His brow is furrowed in thought and he runs a hand over the back of his tattooed neck.
"Come on." I rise to my feet and nudge him with my toe. "We should go down and leave a note."
By the time the sun sets both Luca and I are in foul spirits. We have moved from sullen bickering to running in stony silence, our search of the sky becoming increasingly fruitless as the shadows lengthen and the stars begin to make an appearance.
We stop at the next tube station, locating the entrance with relative ease and making our way down to the platform to wait for the rest of the search party. Luca sits a distance away from me, unwinding the strips of leather from his hands and unfurling his bedroll.
I sigh, leaning with my head against the wall, ears straining for the sound of Will and Jaron's approaching army. Gradually, my eyes begin to drift closed and my head lolls against my chest as I succumb to a day of running. When the soldiers finally emerge through the tunnel I barely acknowledge them, wordlessly accepting my sample of the rations when Will hands it to me.
He must sense my disappointment in our lack of progress because he doesn't say anything as he settles into his bedroll next to mine. I turn on my side so that I am facing him, acutely aware of the distance between us.
He is lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, staring glassy-eyed up at the ceiling. I can heard the shuffling of two dozen people around us as one by one they stretch out on the abandoned platform and settle down to sleep. I wonder briefly about how Rowan is faring, knowing that Jaron doesn't yet trust her enough to fully let down his guard.
"This could take any number of days." When Will speaks his voice is so low that at first I am not certain he has said anything at all.
I watch him carefully as I turn the day's events over in my mind. As frustrating as it is to run for hours and see nothing, it must be exponentially more tedious to be stuck underground, progressing slowly and at the total mercy of mine and Luca's judgement.
"They're out here somewhere." My tone is more confidant than I feel. "They can't hide forever."
Through the dim light I can make out the smallest hint of that half-grin. It is the last sight I see before drifting off into unconsciousness.
My sleep is mercifully dreamless. Whether this is due to my physical exhaustion or Will's proximity I cannot be sure, but I am grateful all the same.
I awake energized and optimistic, eager to get above ground and begin the day's run. Disconcertingly, the search again proves fruitless and when night falls we collapse on the platform in bitterness, silent and seething.
It isn't until the third day that we finally spot the airship.