Calling the Madam's lair a 'camp', as Jaron does, is an understatement to say the least.
The massive dome stands alone amid a heavy cluster of dense brush. The surrounding wasteland is flat, the dunes receded far into the distance. Such a colossal structure placed in the centre of open flatlands should be easy to spot, even in the darkest night. However, the dome's reflective surface cleverly masks the base and renders the entire 'camp' almost impossible to detect.
It is covered entirely in mirrors.
Massive panes of faultless glass completely envelope the exterior of the settlement in a tessellating pattern, wrapping it in a cloak of invisibility. The image of cloudless sky, surrounding foliage and miles of flat sand project off of the dome's sides, making it appear as though the span of the Wasteland continues indefinitely, uninterrupted and endless.
Our small party is currently camped out between the dunes on the edges of the wasteland surrounding the mirrored dome. The accommodations are charmingly modest but leave something to be desired, being that we are essentially living out of a hole in the ground.
Rowan dug out this shallow pit at the base of the hill, uncomplaining even though I am certain she considers such tasks beneath her. A length of sand-coloured cloth serves as our roof, effectively disguising our presence from any prying eyes above.
It's none too glamorous, but the crude hole provides us with a relatively safe place to sleep and plan while we observe the settlement from a cautious distance.
This may all seem quite charming but currently our intrepid adventurers find themselves huddled together in the cramped, dirty quarters and arguing in low voices.
"Enough, Luca. Put it from your mind." Jaron growls. Every hour the Waster chief seems to edge closer to his boiling point, but still Luca continues to push. After a full day confined in unbearable proximity to the brothers, I have decided that Luca must subconsciously desire a bloody nose. If Jaron doesn't deliver one to him soon, I may have to.
"What other choice is there? Time is running short and we must find a way inside." Luca gestures towards the crude map we've sketched out on the sandy floor. "We circled the entire structure and so far have seen no one come in or out of the base."
"That doesn't mean that they don't have eyes on the surrounding area." I explain with as much patience as I can muster. "It is completely open ground. If you are spotted near the base then there will be nowhere for you to hide."
He shoots me a look. "I am fast."
"Not fast enough." I snap. "We will not underestimate these people. Those steel towers prove that they are decades ahead of us in terms of technology. You cannot seriously suggest streaking across that wasteland to try and find a way in. That could be akin to a child throwing rocks at a mountain."
Luca's face colours and Rowan shifts uncomfortably beside me. Only Jaron seems satisfied, which is all I need to push past this needless bickering.
"Let's go over what we already know." I rub my forehead, thinking. "The airships dock through an opening at the very top of the dome."
"Your City's airships appear the same as these strangers'." Jaron looks to me. "Perhaps one of your ships could land in their camp."
I mull over the idea, shaking my head slowly. "Too conspicuous. An entire crew of Miners and Wasters, even if we disguised ourselves, would be too cumbersome to hide in plain sight. We need to think smaller."
"Can one of us smuggle aboard their ship?" Rowan speaks up, haltingly.
I chew my lip, exchanging a look with Luca as we mentally review the ship's layout.
"I do not think there is anywhere to hide." Luca scratches his head vigorously, another irritating slip of his nervous energy. "The ships are only equipped to hold men and cages."
I flinch inwardly at his mention of the cages. "So hiding on board is not an option. Unless..." I furrow my brow, considering.
"Unless what?" Luca demands, ever-impatient.
"I could hide onboard as one of their soldiers." I say slowly. "Although, that would be complicated. We would need to acquire a uniform and find a way to board a ship without arousing any suspicion." The idea turns over in my mind as I consider it from all angles, biting my lip in concentration.
"We could take a uniform if we brought down a sky machine." Jaron offers.
Something pumps heavily in my chest and I shake my head vigorously. "No. We cannot attack their ships directly until we understand how to combat their nerve gas."
"They dock in the Wastelands occasionally." Rowan speaks up again. "We get one of them alone, kill them and return Kay in his place."
"It is rare to find one docked in the Wasteland." Luca doesn't bother to keep the condescending note from his voice. "We have been out here for nearly a week and have barely seen a handful of ships in the sky, let alone on the ground."
"It was only a suggestion." Rowan spits back. "The idea is still better than your plan of running straight into the side of their camp's wall."
"Do you not already have a key to the front entrance, Rowan?" Luca's face darkens while his hands curl into fists. "I know you have a special friendship with the Madam."
"Luca!" Jaron's head jerks to the side as he glares at his brother. "That is enough."
Luca's green eyes dart between the three of us, rage and betrayal written clearly across his sharp features. "Very well." He says eventually. "Clearly, I am of no help to any of you."
I sigh, fighting the wave of resentment building and throbbing behind my eyes. The already-cramped hole feels as though it is caving in around me. "Don't say that, Luca. We are all trying to figure this out."
"Then why is it only my plans that get pushed aside?" He demands, at once rising to his feet. His shoulders and head hit the low roof and he growls in frustration, pushing the material forcefully aside. He heaves himself out of the hole in one smooth motion, at once disappearing.
Rowan leans back heavily against the dirt wall. "He cannot move past what I did."
"Can't blame him for that." I grumble under my breath.
"Enough." Jaron's deep voice rumbles so perceptibly through the tight space that grains of sand rain down on my shoulders. "I will not tolerate this hostility in my camp."
"This is your camp?" I sit up, staring at him wide-eyed. "This fine pit?"
Apparently, the aggravation that Jaron normally reserves for his youngest brother can easily be transferred to me. "We are a camp so long as we stick together. These petty arguments help no one."
"I suppose so, if it is 'petty' to be annoyed at someone for nearly murdering your best friend." I shoot Rowan another look, feeling a jolt of triumph when she can't meet my eye.
"It is not up to you to punish Rowan." Jaron's heavy tone commands my attention once more. "What you must focus on is finding a way inside their base so that we know what we are up against."
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I gesture angrily at our crude, hand-drawn map, cursing when I accidently brush my hand over it, smearing the lines.
"It looks like you are letting your frustration cloud your judgement." Jaron glances pointedly at the ruined map and then back up at me. "Use that anger or push past it, but don't let it slow you down."
"You know what? I think that Luca had the right idea." I make to stand, purposefully kicking sand over what remains of the map. "I could use some fresh air."
I don't bother to listen for a reply before I heave myself out of the hole, breathing in the fresh air as I pin the cloth roof in place behind me.
There is just enough light left to make out Luca's footprints, leading to the North. I deliberately turn in the opposite direction, heading for the river at a steady clip, keeping one eye and ear perked in case anyone approaches.
The cooling wind soothes the pain behind my eyes, helping my thoughts to clear. I push myself harder, coaxing the sweat from my skin and releasing the tension in my body, taut from the cramped accommodations and company.
How do I get myself into that mirrored dome? Luca was right when he pointed out that we have seen barely a soul, save the occasional airship since we set up camp. The place would appear to be some kind of colossal ghost town if it weren't for the fact that each ship regularly delivers cages full of unwilling people.
It appears that those living inside the mysterious, geodesic settlement rarely leave.
Curiosity scorches through me. The sensation begins as the familiar, fluttery panic I have experienced so much as of late. As I run, the panic gives way to resolve, pushing aside my fear with a terrifying certainty. I know that there is no obstacle that can keep me from doing what I need to.
My skin rises in goosepimples from the sensation of sweat cooling in the desert breeze. I revel in the physical sensation as I turn a million questions over in my mind. Some primal, basic part of me aches to know what exactly is beyond those walls. The desire to push forward, to stick my nose somewhere it doesn't belong, to uncover the answers to my questions is all-encompassing.
Reaching the river I alter my path so that I am running downstream, for a moment imagining the ancient swell that serviced the old City. It is difficult to envisage such a great quantity of water yet it was a mere two hundred years ago that miles of it ran from City to ocean, unencumbered by nature.
I slow my pace when the dome comes back into view. The setting sun reveals the one fault in an otherwise seamless design; reflecting harshly off the side and bouncing light back like a beacon. I stick to the shadows, sliding down onto the soft side of the dune, watching the mirrored image of the sun descending beneath the horizon.
The barren expanse of desert between myself and the Madam may as well be a thousand miles. How do you enter a room without doors?
My eyes flick to the roof. Steel rods protrude straight up, boasting a craftsmanship I recognize, even at this distance. The criss-crossing latticework is reminiscent of the other towers intermittently dotting the landscape, signifying their architect as being one and the same. Something nigs at the corner of my mind, something about the towers. I furrow my brow, thinking.
I have to get into one of their ships.
I cannot board from the ground.
I must board while it flies.
There is a soft shuffling from behind me. I change my position immediately, curling my fingers around the hilt of my dagger and sitting forward so that I am crouched. Tensed and ready, my ears strain to pinpoint the exact location of the interloper.
"It is me." Rowan speaks clearly, giving me warning. I suppress a sigh, sitting back down but leaving my dagger within easy reach. The tall Waster woman draws up next to me, keeping a respectful distance as she folds her long limbs into a seated position.
"Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough that I wanted to be alone." I say, keeping my eyes trained on the view.
"You did. I think, however, that we should take this opportunity and at least try to clear the air between us." She seems to be choosing her words carefully.
"That was pretty presumptuous of you."
"We have made one another bleed. We are past niceties."
I nearly smirk but manage to keep my face impassive. "There is nothing you could say to me that would make me forgive you, Rowan."
"I am not asking for your forgiveness."
That gets my attention. I look over at her, searching her face as I finger the dagger at my side. It occurs to me that I am alone and deep within enemy territory with a woman who tried to kill me only a few weeks previous. It is almost remarkable how often I find myself in one of these situations. No matter, my grip on this knife is firm and should she so much as blink at me threateningly I will not hesitate to finish what we started.
"You aren't sorry for shooting Meg?" I keep my gaze locked with hers.
"I am sorry that your queen was caught in the crossfire of what I have been trying to accomplish." Her glittering, narrowed eyes don't waver, her every word full of deliberate intent.
I mull over her statement, suddenly understanding. "You think that because Will was taken, that I would understand you better."
"You would if you loved Will the way I love Noah." Something shows on her face momentarily when she says his name.
"I don't need you to tell me what it is to love someone." My words spew out like venom. "You don't know a godsdamn thing about me or what I've been through."
"I could say the same of your judgement, that it did not keep you from thinking the worst of me." She shoots back.
"I will tell you this; Will makes me a better person, not someone who turns her back on her people and kills on command like a trained bear." The hilt of my dagger grows hot beneath my palm.
She reels, her eyes flashing. "You have not yet been faced with my choices."
I scoff. "Your excuse is deplorable, Rowan. You say that you had no choice, but there is always another option. Maybe it isn't immediately obvious. Maybe the world doesn't hand it to you on a silver platter. Maybe it is up to you to find the answer for yourself."
Her mouth opens, then closes again.
"What is it? Have you exhausted your excuses now?" I tilt my head at her. "Well then, if you didn't come out here to ask for forgiveness, what else could you have to say?"
Her tan face reddens. "We have to move past this resentment."
"Why?"
"Because I need you to help me get Noah back." She says bluntly. "I will accept whatever problems you have with me. The fact of the matter is that we both want the same thing." She draws a deep breath, watching me carefully as if to be sure I am listening. "We can help each other."
I bite down a sigh, turning my gaze back towards the final rays of the sun reflecting off the dome. It seems as though this is becoming a pattern lately; pushing aside every problem, frustration and emotion that stands in the way of the larger picture.
Get to Will.
Kill the Madam.
Everything else is just noise.
"Fine." I hear myself say. "But once we have Will and Noah back, I reserve the right to finish what we started in that alleyway."
"That is fair." She leans to the side, quirking an eyebrow at the sight of my hand wrapped around the hilt of my dagger. "You may want to consider a bigger knife on that day."
"I will take that under advisement."
We remain silent for several moments, watching the colours refracting off the side of the dome turn from pink to purple.
"It is so close." Rowan murmurs, seemingly to herself. "We are practically right on top of it."
I make a noise of agreement. Right on top of it.
My eyes widen and then dart to the side, towards one of the distant steel towers. They stretch so high into the sky, even higher than an airship itself. I lick my lips, considering the layout of the beams making up the tower, crisscrossing each other in a complicated network that rivals anything the City has ever achieved structurally. Climbing to the top of one of those towers would put me closer to the sky than I have ever been before.
Right on top of everything.
"That's it." I don't realize I have spoken aloud until Rowan stares at me questioningly. "I can board the ship from the sky."
"What do you mean?"
"The towers." I point to the distant structure. "If we could direct one of the airships to fly directly below a tower, then I could jump on top of the ship and ride it into the dome."
Her eyes widen. "You could do that?"
"Yes." I don't even think about it. "Absolutely. Come on, let's go speak with Jaron."
The darkening sky does not affect us as we race back through the dunes, our steps remaining solid and sure. I go over my plan as we run, considering possible outcomes and mentally sorting through the risks versus the reward, always coming to the same conclusion. This is the way to Will and our friends.
Jaron and Luca arrive at the camp in the same instant we do. The brothers also seem to have struck some kind of peace, although Luca seems less pleased by the compromise.
"What is it?" Jaron notices my expression immediately, even in the near-darkness.
"I know how to get inside." I tell him with certainty. "But it won't be simple."
"Then we should start planning right away." He raises his eyebrows. "Everyone, back in the hole."
* * * * *
Timing is everything. That was what Jaron stressed.
I have been standing with my back pressed against the inner leg of the steel tower for hours, cursing every known god and each of their ancestors. The heat of the steel burns my skin through my clothes, the scorching driving home a cruel irony about how long I have to wait before timing becomes a critical factor.
When Rowan finally signals from the crest of the dune I almost miss it, my eyes blurry from the prolonged sunlight. I blink heavily and look again. Then, I see it. A flash of light, Rowan waving a polished steel blade, reflecting the sun and warning us that the approach of a ship is imminent.
I glance to the left and right, scanning the heavy brushwork. Luca and Jaron are hidden somewhere on either side, pieces of flint at the ready, prepared to create a specific path for the ship to follow.
The shadow crests the hill, extinguishing the golden glint of sand. I ease myself around the back of the beam, drawing my shoulders in and standing stock-still.
The crackling I have been waiting for sounds on my right. The first fire has been lit. I turn my neck ever so slightly, watching the orange flames flickering in the distance. A heavy plume of grey smoke rises into the air, creating an obstruction in the sky.
I imagine the airship altering its course slightly, making a wide turn in order to avoid the smoke.
It is an eternity before the second fire is lit. I hold my breath, ears straining as I slowly pull my scarf up over my mouth and fix my goggles over my eyes. As soon as I see that second set of flames, it will be time to climb.
A satisfying pop as the next fire springs to life is my cue. I spin around, noting the dark shadow almost upon me. There is going to be very little time to get above the ship.
Smoke cloaks me as I jump upwards, my eyes reflexively darting a step ahead as I pick my route to the top. I stick close to the heaviest beam running up the side of the tower, continually altering my position so that I remain hidden relative to the ship gradually nosing its way overhead.
The element of height is forgotten. All I see is the next handhold, my grip sure and strong as I propel myself upwards with a confident ease that belies anything I have accomplished over the City's modest stone buildings. The latticework of the tower blossoms before me like a flower, painting a clear, faultless route hidden from the strangers.
The wind pushes at me, loosening my clothes and hair. I use the breeze to my advantage, jumping into it and letting it push me to my next goal, my eyes forever trained upwards as I peer through the smoke up at the great wooden underbelly of the ship.
The fires on either side of the tower burn brightly, the heavy smoke emanating from the brush effectively carving the only path the ship can take. My Waster companions will be long gone by now, trusting me to complete the final phase of our plan. I will have five days before I need to rendezvous with them and Meg's army. Five days to find Will.
But first, I need to get above that ship.
I move towards the outside of the tower, turning so that I can watch the back of the ship pass in front of me. Up close, it is travelling much faster than I anticipated. I bite my lip, tasting blood as I crouch and leap straight up, wrapping my outstretched hands around a crossbeam and pulling myself on top of it. I repeat the process, never glancing down or considering the fact that my grip might falter, trusting my body to get me where I need to be.
The swell of the silver balloon creeps next to my shoulder, bulging outwards, still worryingly far away. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, attempting to throw me off balance as the topmost part of the tower makes its way closer, but not quickly enough.
I'm not going to make it.
The silver fabric glints in the afternoon sun, as if saying goodbye. I choke on ragged breaths, bodily pulling myself up the last few beams, my soft-booted feet slipping momentarily on the final, narrow crossbeam.
Straightening, the tower sways below my feet, buffeted by the winds and threatening to throw me carelessly to the ground. Whatever lies below swims in my field of view, meaningless compared to the sight of the ship just out of reach.
It's too far. Some niggling warning in the back of my mind cautions me.
It isn't. I've made this jump hundreds of times. I answer back.
I pause for a beat, gauging the next gust of wind and waiting until it pushes the tower forwards, taking advantage of the two steps the narrow platform offers and throwing myself off.
Those two seconds of weightlessness are multiplied exponentially when there is roughly thirty storeys between you and hard, unforgiving ground.
Silver rushes in front of my face, much too fast. My hands fly out instinctively, cushioning my fall when I hit the balloon solidly, grappling desperately for purchase on one of the ropes before the balloon re-inflates and sends me plummeting to my death.
One hand wraps around the coarse rope just as the thrust of helium beneath me pushes against my chest, tossing me back. I shut my eyes tight, holding on desperately with one hand, letting the rest of my body go slack while I wait for the chaotic movement beneath me to cease. The skin on my palm burns, feeling as though it were scorched by the Wasters' flames. I concentrate on the sensation of wind whipping against my body, swinging my legs up so that my feet are on top of the rope.
With my free hand I am able to grab another hold, pressing my face against the scorching silver material, laughing silently into the reassuring solidness of it.
I made it.
Hand over hand I pull myself so that I am directly on top of the balloon, pressing my body down as flat as possible. Peering upwards, I can see the telltale glint of the mirrored dome in the distance, drawing steadily closer.
The fires continue to burn over my shoulders, the path the ship took between the twin columns of smoke plainly apparent. The image of the two, swirling masses of grey smoke, tall and strong amidst the otherwise-flat land stirs something inside of me. I think of Jaron and Luca, sending them a quiet prayer of thanks as I ride the balloon towards the ominous hole at the top of the dome.
I have five days to immerse myself within whatever madness lies beyond those reflective walls. Five days to learn everything we need to plan a successful attack and free our people. Five days of the unknown; dropped unceremoniously behind enemy lines, with no known exit or prior knowledge about what I will find.
My mind drifts momentarily to the conversation I shared with Luca the night before.
The hour had grown late. We had just finished going over the next morning's plans in excruciating detail, Jaron continually stressing that timing was the most crucial element. We agreed that every one of us would have to be in tune with the others, that there was no room for error; every player was to perform his or her part perfectly.
We settled down into our bedrolls, with Jaron's low snores soon rising and falling in calming succession. I was as far from unconsciousness as I could be, mentally reviewing our strategy and wondering if there was any level of stress that Jaron couldn't sleep through.
"You are awake."
I roll my eyes, even though he can't see me in the pitch darkness. "You don't miss a thing, do you, Luca?"
"It is easy to tell whether you are asleep or not. You cry out."
"Am I still doing that?" I grimace. "Sorry."
"I used to have nightmares as well."
"I know. Cade told me."
A pause. Then, "Cade could rival a young girl for his love of gossip."
I let out an inelegant snort, prompting a low murmur from Rowan's sleeping form on my other side. "You know, you can be pretty funny when you aren't getting your feelings hurt."
"Will you lecture me now, also?"
"No, that wouldn't bode well for me. I need you on my side tomorrow."
Another pause. "It should be me in that tower."
"Playing hurt feelings again? You're needed on the ground."
"I am always needed somewhere I do not want to be. I could climb the tower, I could find our people and learn the information we need." His tone has taken on that edge of bitterness again, though he seems to be actively struggling with it.
"I don't doubt that you could, but Jaron needs you here."
"To start a fire? You could do that. Anyone could do that."
"Are you really so shortsighted, Luca? Your brother doesn't need you because of your superior fire-making prowess. He needs you because you are all he has." I snap.
This time the silence is so prolonged that I begin to think he has drifted off. I am just turning onto my side in another vain attempt to sleep when he speaks again, his low voice drifting through the darkness. "I did not think of that."
"Sometimes saving ourselves is the most heroic action." I think of Will.
"It does not feel that way." There is a rustling as he shifts position. "Are you afraid?"
"No." I say immediately, my voice hollow. "This is what I am meant for. I don't run the risk of hurting anyone when I jump. You have your brother, but there is no one on the ground for me if I fall."
"If you truly believe that, then you are a fool." He answers so abruptly that I start, jerking to attention.
"You really wouldn't know anything about it, would you?" My words are harsher than I intended. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." He sounds angry. "I know that you are blind to your own value. I know that you have been hurt. Badly."
I remain silent, squeezing my eyes shut tight.
"I know that if you fall tomorrow, I will miss you."
Never have I been so grateful for pitch darkness. My heart twists painfully, thrusting through me the barrage of emotions I have set aside in lieu of finding Will. I allow myself a moment to feel it all, soaking in the impact of Luca's words. When the weight becomes unbearable I breathe deeply, pulling everything back inside and locking it away tightly.
"I would miss you as well." I hear myself say. "So please, don't do anything stupid while I'm away."
He releases the small breath of laughter. "If I promise to behave as best I can, will you do the same?"
A small smile escapes me, hidden by the darkness. "I swear it."
Now I grip the coarse rope firmly, carefully adjusting my position on top of the helium balloon. The ship has slowed, hovering directly above the mysterious dome. The surroundings change, darkening and signifying that we have begun our descent. I hold my breath, pressing my cheek to the balloon and trying to remain as flat and still as possible.
My stomach churns in tune with the plunge. This is it.
I'm in.