Fractured Magic: Chapter Fourteen

As they continued through the tunnels, the ceilings sank lower and lower until Maebhe and Roman had to stoop to avoid hitting their heads. Sunslight splashed off the walls ahead, the curve of the tunnel blocking Maebhe’s view of its source.

Roman explained their route as they walked. “Picture Unity’s island as a crescent. At one end sits the courthouse and clock tower, at the other sits Unity’s prison. The bridge connects at the innermost curve of the crescent,” he said. In the dim light, Maebhe could just make out him mapping the curves with his hands while he spoke. “The further you get from the clock tower at the southern tip, the sparser the buildings. All that surrounds the prison in the north are fields and watchtowers. There’s no way to approach from above without being seen.”

“From above?” Maebhe asked.

Roman smiled at her as they passed under a grate, concentrated streaks of sunslight shining on him and then gone. He kept his voice to a whisper, and Maebhe wondered what lie above them. Some sort of important Unity building, probably. When she’d toured the island with Kieran and Ide, she’d been shocked at how many of those there were. She couldn’t even guess what they were all for.

“Good catch,” Roman said. “The prison itself is made up of several buildings — administrative offices, inmate housing, the cafeteria and laundry facilities, and so on. Right beside the main block is a barracks, of sorts. The soldiers who live inside come and go at odd hours and can’t always use the public bridge. Three guesses which route they take.”

He’d stumbled strangely over the word soldier, almost as if he’d meant to use a different one and swapped it out at the last second. Unable to stop herself, Maebhe glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting one of these “soldiers” to be in the tunnel with them now.

“So they have a secret path to their barracks, and thus into the prison,” Dinara guessed, not sounding pleased about it. “That’s what you’re getting at?”

“Exactly. The barracks connect to the main block via a skyway, so that’s our access point,” Roman said, pretending not to notice Dinara’s tone. When they passed under another grate and that brief flash of sunslight came again, though, Maebhe noticed his furrowed brow.

“I thought Unity didn’t have a standing army,” Maebhe pointed out. “You just call on the armies of the nations pledged to you. I learned about that in school.”

“Soldier isn’t quite the right word. They’re not an army, just...elite fighters,” Roman said.

“Whatever they are, how is marching through their barracks in any way a good idea?” Dinara asked. “What will you do if they catch you?”

Roman winced. “Fight, I suppose.”

“Fight the elite fighters?” Dinara clarified.

Beside Maebhe, Ivey murmured something fervently under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

“Don’t make it sound so dire. They’re not infallible,” Roman said, clearly trying to convince himself as much as he was Dinara. “There should only be one or two around, keeping an eye on the place. If we’re lucky, the rest are out on missions.”

Missions, he said, like these were spies of some kind. Fight, he said, like Maebhe had any chance at that.

“This is going to be dangerous,” she said. Logically, she’d known that from the start. But if the smuggler who defied Unity for a living was nervous, touching each on a string of beads while he prayed under his breath, if Roman was nervous, with all Maebhe knew about him — then she was afraid.

“Yes,” Roman said, simply. Those splashes of sunslight were all around them now, steeping them, but none of it reached Roman’s flat, dark eyes. His brows were drawn together, casting shadows that made him look like a different person entirely.

When they rounded a final bend, Maebhe squinted and held up a hand to shield her eyes, suddenly confronted with the pale, blinding sky. Past a gated drainage pipe was the sea and its horizon, storm water running from branching tunnels behind them to empty into the sea ahead.

“Ivey?” Roman asked.

Rifling through his bag, Ivey withdrew a small roll of tools and passed it to Roman. While Roman picked two long, narrow needles and turned his attention to the lock on the gate, Maebhe pressed herself to its bars, trying to see directly below them. What she found was a five-foot drop to a beach, where a rocky stream carried water to the sea.

Suddenly, the lock clicked and the door Maebhe was leaning against suddenly gave. She nearly fell, but Roman caught one of the bars, holding it shut before she could plunge headfirst into the stream she’d been trying to see. She laughed breathlessly. “Sorry.”

With a snort, Roman passed his lantern to Dinara, who took it with the same disapproving frown she’d been wearing since she saw the lock-picking tools, and held his hand out for Ivey’s satchel, which Ivey passed over. “Wait here for us. If we’re not back in two hours, leave. Don’t look for us.”

“As you wish,” Ivey agreed.

“How can you say that?” Dinara asked. “What am I supposed to do if you just disappear?”

Roman sighed. “Try Gareth. He might be able to find out what happened, and there’s a chance they’ll let Maebhe live,” he said. Before Dinara could argue, he kissed her cheek and then was gone, hopping down to the beach and carrying on without waiting for Maebhe to catch up.

Maebhe tried for an encouraging smile. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. He seems to know what he’s doing.”

“As if that’s not worrying in its own way,” Dinara sighed.

Unsure what more she could say, Maebhe patted Dinara’s shoulder and jumped down as well, landing far less smoothly than Roman and almost losing her balance on the slippery rocks. She heard the gate creak shut behind her.

“We’ll keep this way open,” Ivey called, as loud as he dared. “Be quick, before any Enforcers pass through.”

Roman waved over his shoulder as Maebhe kicked through the water after him. As she went, she craned her neck; they followed along a sheer cliff face, bracketed on the other side by only water, on and on. “Where are we?” she asked. From here, though, she couldn’t see the mainland, and that told her enough.

“The outside of the crescent,” Roman confirmed. He pointed behind them. “The clock tower is that way, which means we’re headed in the right direction.”

Maebhe looked back the way he pointed, but she couldn’t see any buildings — just rock and sky. Obviously, he’d been this way before, enough times to have the route memorized. “Are you — or were you — one of these soldiers?” Maebhe asked. It was the only explanation that made sense.

She thought she saw Roman wince. “I was. Hood up, Maebhe,” he said. Maebhe scrambled to cover her ears again, though onlookers from above were unlikely. With the cliff’s magnitude, you’d have to be standing toes to the edge, looking straight down, to spot them. Even so, they kept as close to the rocks as they could, staying in the cliff’s shadows.

“You said that if they catch us, they might spare me,” she said, by way of conversation. “No hope for you, then?”

“No hope for me.”

“Messy breakup?”

Roman laughed humorlessly. “I suppose you could say that. I can think of more than a few of them who’d stop at nothing to see me dead.”

“That fits, given that you claim to be—”

“Watch it,” Roman warned, shooting her a knowing look. “My price for helping you, Maebhe Cairn, is that you ask no more questions.”

Maebhe bit her lip. She managed to keep quiet for about ten seconds, then asked, “No questions? What if I need to know something important about our mission?”

“Do you?” Roman asked.

“Why doesn’t Dinara know about any of this? Aren’t you together?”

“That has nothing to do with our mission,” Roman pointed out.

Ah, well. It was worth a try. “Then tell me more about these soldiers. I can tell you’re afraid of them. Should I be worried?”

Roman stiffened beside Maebhe. When he looked at her, his dark eyes were serious. “I may be afraid, but you don’t need to be. As long as you stay behind me, I’ll keep you safe.”

Maebhe’s eyes widened. It felt strange to do so, but she believed him. Back in Orean, they had their own stories. They had their heroes, too. Roman fit so naturally among them that it was natural, too, for Maebhe to put her faith in him. It was like following a familiar script, coloring within bold lines — of course it was easy.

“That doesn’t actually tell me anything about these Enforcers.”

“Don’t repeat the name. They’re Unity’s best kept secret — they’d kill you for even knowing they exist.”

“Seems like they’d kill me just for being orinian, too.”

Roman sighed. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Can I ask one last question? No prying into secrets, I promise.”

“That was a question,” Roman pointed out, lips twitching when Maebhe rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if I don’t like it, I’m not answering.”

“Fine! I was just wondering...if these Enforcers scare you so much, why are you doing this? It would’ve been easy for you to just leave me where you found me. You didn’t have to help me.”

Roman sighed. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to. I hate this feeling — the weight of someone else’s trust in my hands, the heavy steps out of safety and into danger. If I fail, I’m failing both of us. If we’re caught, the risk is now mine as much as it was yours. It’s terrifying, and you’re right: the coward’s choice would be easier. It always is. I can tell you this, though: the people looking to hurt us want us to make that choice. So I did have to help, in a way — for both me and for you, and for a future without them,” he said, giving her a sidelong look. His smile reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. “Besides, regret weighs heavier than fear, and I know which choice lets me sleep at night.”

Maebhe dropped her gaze, watching the sand shift and cling to her wet boots. “I think I understand,” she said. She didn’t, not really, but she’d never had to make this choice for herself. Rescuing Kieran and Ide was that closest she’d come, but it was Roman doing all the work. Still, she committed his answer to memory, in case she might one day need it.

As they circled the island, the strip of beach narrowed until they could no longer walk side by side. Maebhe, who kept watching the cliff’s face as they walked, waded more than once into the water by accident. To distract herself from why they were here, she’d turned to focusing on where they were — it struck her how excellent this spot would be for cliff diving. The water was deep, free of visible obstacles, the cliff jutting out above to provide a good jumping point. If she had to guess, she’d call it seventy feet: less than her record, but pushing her comfort range.

She loved the rush of adrenaline, the fear of falling. It was different than what she felt now, this tightly wound, knotted and tangled anxiety. It was wilder, freer. Of course, if she was really planning a jump here, she’d do days of research beforehand, mapping the area and testing the water’s depths.

Finally, a sinister-looking gray building appeared over the cliff’s crest, growing until it loomed high above them. Ears flat to her head, Maebhe asked, “We’re breaking into that?”

“That is the cafeteria,” Roman corrected. “The main block is behind it.”

They rounded a sharp bend, then, moving into the inner curve of the island’s crescent. Maebhe could see the mainland, now, and Unity’s bridge arching high over the water. She asked, “How do we get from down here to up there? Are we supposed to scale the wall?”

“You’ll see,” was all Roman said. His hand never strayed far from his sword, now.

And she did. Just before the strip of beach ended entirely, they came upon a narrow opening in the rock, hidden behind sharp outcroppings. Maebhe grimaced when she saw it, but reluctantly followed Roman into the creepy cave to find — well, that it wasn’t so creepy on the inside. Lit from above by orangeish industrial lights, the walls were smooth, man-made. She and Roman stepped up onto dry cement, a rusty service elevator built into the far wall.

Roman frowned at it. “That wasn’t here in my day.”

“Really? It looks ancient,” Maebhe marveled.

Instead of heading to the elevator, Roman veered toward the stone steps beside it. They appeared to climb up without end — for about seventy feet, if Maebhe had to guess. “Is there a reason we’re not taking the elevator?”

“That thing looks loud enough to alert the entire island to our presence,” Roman whispered. “We don’t know who might be waiting at the top.”

Cowed, Maebhe followed him without further complaint, ears still flat to her head. After a climb that seemed to last ages, the stairs led to a tidy cellar, the cellar to another short flight of stairs that ended with a closed door. Roman stopped at the bottom of those stairs, his hands clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides. Unsure what else to do, Maebhe waited several paces back, watching him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, with a short, self-deprecating laugh. “It’s been some time since I was last here.”

“Take your time,” Maebhe said, trying to sound encouraging. While she’d never been good with vulnerable emotions, either expressing or witnessing them, she wanted to help him for all that he was helping her.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and breathed. When he opened them again, the vulnerability was gone. He rolled his shoulders, gestured for Maebhe to wait, then started up the stairs alone. When the door eased open without trouble, Roman peering cautiously around it, Maebhe shifted uncomfortably, her tail lashing back and forth behind her. Who were these people? Were they so confident no one could touch them that they left their home unlocked?

Then Roman was gone, leaving Maebhe alone, and the cellar suddenly felt much scarier. Maebhe waited thirty whole seconds, counting in her head, then decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She hurried up the stairs, boots quiet on old stone, and mirrored Roman’s earlier position, peering cautiously around the door just in time to see Roman ease a body to the ground.

He cushioned her head as he laid her down; some comfort, as it meant she must be alive. Maebhe knew killing might be required — had known it more from the look in Roman’s cold eyes than anything he’d said — but she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t even want to know about it. Maybe that was selfish, expecting Roman to kill for her while she looked the other way.

Maebhe crept slowly into the room, trying to see the girl’s face. She was just that: only a girl, barely twenty and dressed in a utilitarian vest-trousers combination. She looked...normal. Now that Maebhe considered it, everything about this place looked too normal. She eyed the bland common room, furnished with plain bookshelves and sofas and lit by narrow windows. The strangest thing was the table before Roman, full of half-assembled weapons. The girl must have been standing at it when Roman snuck up on her.

Maebhe watched him, now. In turn, he watched the girl at his feet. His hand was on his sword and slowly, he drew it.

Maebhe was struck by the urge to join him. The coward’s choice — staying back — was easy, and Roman had made the hard decision to come here for her. Whatever else happened, he shouldn’t have to face it alone. On her next step into the room, though, the floor creaked. It was barely audible, even to her own ears, but Roman whirled to face her, his sword drawn between one moment and the next. His wild expression eased when he saw Maebhe, but then his eyes widened. “Maebhe!”

Maebhe didn’t need the warning; her ears had picked up the telltale swish of fabric behind her. She dove forward on instinct, hitting the ground and rolling while Roman leaped over her. There came the clang of metal striking metal, and by the time Maebhe got her bearing and spun around, Roman was facing off against a tall, broad man with dark mutton chops.

Maebhe didn’t know what she’d worked the inhabitants of these barracks up to look like, but aside from the sword in his hand, this man was utterly unassuming. Uncannily so. If she’d passed him in the street, she would’ve thought him some sort of workman — not a spy or an assassin or a soldier, or whatever else he may be. She could’ve passed either of these people in the street without a second thought. She couldn’t imagine Roman ever being one of them.

“Who in the hells are you?” the man asked, looking between the two of them with what Maebhe would call mild irritation, like they were ants in a kitchen.

Roman laughed and forced the man back a step. “You are far too outmatched to talk during this fight,” he said, brandishing his blade. “Eyes on me.”

Finally, some of Roman's secrets start to unravel! How do you think he and Egil know each other? What do you think of his connection to these Enforcers?

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