Deliverance

  The thought of demonstrating how to use it and then handing it back to the Commander makes my heart pound in quick, jerky thumps, but the thought of leaving Willow, Jodi, and Nola to the highwaymen is worse.

  The city seems to tower over us as we enter. Everything is tall—the buildings, the faded metal signs now covered in moss and ivy, the broken pieces of road that inexplicably cross other roads like bridges over water. I stare at the underside of a road-bridge as we walk beneath it and wonder at a civilization that had so many wagons, they needed roads in the sky.

  My pulse is pounding loudly in my ears as we walk. Everything inside of me is wound tight, a coil of anxiety that I have to willfully ignore. The girls will be okay. They have to be.

  We haven’t moved more than a few blocks through the ruins before three men materialize from behind a rusted hunk of metal that looks like an enormous once-yellow wagon with rubber wheels and glass windows all around the sides.

  “State your business,” one calls to us. The other two heft crossbows and aim them at our hearts.

  “I’m here to make a trade.” My voice seems to bounce off the half-crumbled brick storefronts that line this section of the city.

  “What’s with the weapon and the old man?” the speaker asks.

  “He’s my collateral.”

  One of the men snorts and shakes his head, as if marveling at my foolishness, but the third jerks his crossbow to the left and says, “Come with me. We have sentries posted throughout the city. Try anything funny, and we’ll kill you.”

  Not before I kill you. My hand rests on the outline of the device sheltered in my pocket as grim resolution fills me.

  It takes nearly an hour to wind our way through the wreckage of the city, dodging the craters left by the tanniyn and ducking around burned-out husks of buildings. When we finally reach the cleaned-up streets of the western side of town, another pair of sentries steps out to meet us.

  “Whatcha got?” a thin, red-eyed man asks.

  “The boy here says he wants to make a trade. Apparently, he thinks Rufus will be interested in the old man.”

  The red-eyed man spits on the cracked gray road beneath his feet. “Seems unlikely, but let’s ask him.”

  Leaving our original guide behind, we follow the red-eyed man into the highwaymen’s base camp. Here, the debris has been cleared, and shaky structures are propped up with boards and branches. A few taller buildings gleam dully in the afternoon sun, their windows reflecting the clear blue sky beneath a layer of grime.

  I search the windows of the buildings we pass, looking for Willow, Jodi, and Nola, but I don’t see them. Here and there, a group of men in the ragged, patched-together clothing of highwaymen stare at us from inside a building as we pass, but for the most part, the street seems empty. When we turn left onto a wide street with cracked sidewalks, everything changes.

  Horses mill about a large, flat square of the same kind of stone that makes up the old road beneath our feet. A fence encloses the square, and an awning covers the eastern side, sheltering piles of hay. A couple of men lounge in front of the makeshift stable, their eyes assessing us carefully as we pass. I remember the way the highwaymen attacked—the speed and precision with which they killed our guards, stole our horses, and left with the girls—and remind myself not to underestimate Rufus and his band of criminals.

  Past the stable, the smell of roasted pig fills the air. One of the buildings has smoke curling up from a chimney, and as we get closer, the scent of baking bread and the yeasty aroma of a strong, dark ale mingles with the smell of the cooking meat and makes my stomach rumble.

  I glance at the building where the food is being cooked, taking in the wide space where a window used to be, the cluster of round tables and chairs scattered across the floor inside, and the dozen or so men seated in those chairs who stop chewing to watch us as we walk by.

  No girls.

  “Here we are.” The red-eyed man stops before a wide, low-slung brick building and raps sharply on a narrow blue door.

  “Yeah?” a voice asks from inside.

  “Traders here.”

  The door swings open, and an older man with greasy clumps of gray hair hanging from his head steps out.

  “No weapons allowed inside,” he says, seeing my sword still pointed at the Commander’s back.

  “If I don’t keep a weapon on him, he’s likely to bolt,” I say.

  The man comes closer to me, and I grimace. He smells like vinegar, sharp and sour. “If he tries to run past my boys, he’ll be killed for his trouble. Weapon.” He holds his hand out, and I reluctantly give up my sword.

  “Inside.” The man gestures toward the narrow doorway. When the Commander doesn’t start walking fast enough, the man shoves him forward. Instantly, the Commander pivots, wedges his forearm beneath the man’s throat, and crushes him against the wall.

  “Touch me again and the next meal your boys eat will be you.”

  I hurry forward as the red-eyed man draws his sword and a pair of men from across the street start toward us.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say roughly, though I don’t touch the Commander. We may be temporarily on the same side, but I recognize the look on his face, and I don’t want to be the one he kills.

  The Commander steps back, straightens his tunic, and moves into the house as if he owns it.

  “Told you I needed my sword,” I say to the doorman as I push past him and follow the Commander.

  The man slams the door and gestures toward a set of narrow stairs. His faded blue eyes regard the Commander with contempt.

  “Go on up. And try to put your hands on Rufus, old man. He’s the kind of man who knows how to make you wish he’d kill you.”

  The Commander gives the man a withering stare. “And what makes you think I’m not?”

  “Let’s go.” I start up the stairs, my footsteps echoing hollowly on the warped wood.

  When we reach the upper story, I notice three important things—Rufus looks like he could take Frankie in a fight, we’re surrounded by men with machetes, crossbows, and knives, and Willow, Jodi, and Nola are tied to a hook in the far wall. I meet their eyes and work hard not to show the wild relief that rushes through me.

  They look unharmed, which is more than I can say for the highwayman closest to Willow. His eye is swelling, and a cut splits the skin of his left cheek. He glares at Willow, and she smirks at him before looking back at me.

  I don’t give any sign that I recognize them. If Rufus discovers what they mean to me, their price will be more than I can afford. Looking away from them, I take my time sizing up Rufus as I wrap my hand around the Commander’s upper arm and walk him to the middle of the room.

  “I’m here to trade,” I say.

  “You got nothing I want.” Rufus’s voice is quiet for such a large man.

  “I’ve got the thing every single person in the Wasteland wants.”

  Rufus raises a brow. “Is that so? And what would that be?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors out of Rowansmark.” I push the Commander a little closer to Rufus. “The bounty they’ve placed on Jared Adams’s head for stealing something very, very valuable.”

  “I’ve heard.” Rufus leaves his chair and walks closer to us. “Are you trying to tell me this old man is Jared Adams, Baalboden’s top courier? Because I ran into Jared once a long time ago, and I could swear he was my age. Red hair. No scar.” He flicks a hand toward the Commander’s face and begins circling us like a predator.

  He gives me a look that dares me to lie to him. Dares me to make it easy for him to dismiss me, or worse, kill me. I scramble for a backup plan, and pray the Commander has the good sense to play along. If my next words don’t convince Rufus, we’re doomed. I can’t call the tanniyn and rescue the girls while we’re still inside this building. The entire thing would collapse the moment one of the beasts tunneled up through the floor.

  “No, I’m not claiming this is Jared Adams. This is something better. This
is Commander Jason Chase.”

  Rufus stops circling us while beside me, the Commander clenches his fists and gives me a look of pure rage.

  Rufus whistles. “I see. Is that true?” He looks at the Commander. “Are you Jason Chase, leader of Baalboden?”

  The Commander draws himself up ramrod straight. “I am. And if you think I’m going to be traded off to you like some horse on an auction block, you can think again.”

  “I can see how that would be upsetting to you,” Rufus says, and the light in his eyes tells me the negotiation has begun. “So tell me, what’s it worth to you for me to kill the boy and set you free instead?”

  Panic races through me, and I rush to speak before the Commander can decide that letting Rufus kill me would solve all of his problems. “He can’t offer you anything.”

  Rufus grins. “He’s the leader of Baalboden, mate. He can offer me the world.”

  “Baalboden is gone,” I say. “Destroyed by the tanniyn.”

  The Commander divides his time between glaring at me and looking at Rufus as if he’d like to disembowel him. Slowly.

  “So then what do I need with an old man who has no power, no money, and no one who would pay to take him off my hands?”

  “Rowansmark will pay. The bounty that was on Jared’s head is because the Commander had him take a piece of tech from Rowansmark. They want it back, and they want the Commander with it. James Rowan will pay you twenty times what you’ve earned in your entire life.”

  Rufus considers me in silence for a moment. “So why don’t you just take him to Rowansmark yourself?”

  I clear my throat and make a show of looking uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly welcome there.”

  Rufus scratches his chin, looks at a few of the men gathered inside the room, and says, “I’ll give you a horse, your choice of five weapons from my cache, and the use of one of these fine ladies for the night.” He jerks his head toward the girls, and I have to swallow against the tide of fury that wants to explode out of me.

  “I’ll take three horses, three weapons, and all three girls.”

  Rufus laughs. “You think you can handle all three of these ladies for the night?” He points toward Willow. “That one alone is more than you can take on by yourself.”

  I hold his gaze. “Not for the night. For good. I want to walk out of this camp with all three of the girls, along with a horse and a weapon for each of them.”

  Rufus’s laughter dies. “One old man and the hope that I’ll get paid handsomely at the end of a very long journey isn’t nearly enough for that kind of trade.”

  “That’s why I also brought the tech that was stolen from Rowansmark.”

  His smile is predatory. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s see it.”

  I pull the device from my cloak pocket, careful not to loosen the wires attaching it to the transmitters.

  “What is it?” Rufus asks.

  “A weapon. If you have a practice range around here, I can give you a demonstration.”

  Rufus smiles slowly. “Or, my men kill you and we take both the tech and the old man.” He steps closer. “I confiscated your weapons. Surrounded you with my crew. I hold all the advantages, my friend. You’re holding nothing but an old man with a weird-looking flute. Why should I bother trading?”

  “Because you’re smart enough to want me as a repeat customer.” I hope. “Why don’t we step outside? Bring the girls and have one of your men go pick me out three horses. And while they’re doing that, I’ll give you a demonstration of the tech so you can assess its value. If you don’t think it’s worth my terms, I’ll walk away.”

  “Counteroffer. You give me a demonstration. If it’s worth your terms, you walk away with the girls, the weapons, and the horses. If you’ve wasted my time, I keep the old man, and you get nothing.”

  “Deal.” I reach out and shake his hand while one of his men cuts through the rope that binds the girls to the wall. I notice the man is careful to avoid coming too close to Willow.

  “Weapons,” I say, and nod toward my sword and a stack of crossbows, daggers, and spears that line one wall in the room beside the front door.

  “Three, like you said. Try to use them against us or run off with them before you’ve demonstrated how to use that tech, and my men will drop you where you stand.” Rufus nods toward the man who smells like vinegar, and he quickly moves toward the daggers.

  “My choice.” I speak firmly, thankful that my voice doesn’t shake as the realization of what I’m about to do crashes into me. “Return my sword to me, and get me two daggers and”—I glance at Willow—“a crossbow.”

  The man looks at Rufus, receives a nod of permission, and hastens to grab what I’ve asked for. As we follow Rufus’s men down the narrow stairs and out onto the street, I consider my options. I don’t trust the Commander to watch out for the girls while I’m trying to control the tanniyn. Plus, I promised he could stick close to me and learn how to use the device. I need the girls to be free of the city before I call the beasts, but Rufus isn’t going to release them until I give him a demonstration.

  I’ll have to simply call the tanniyn and use the distraction of its impending arrival to my advantage.

  Sliding my sword into its sheath, I gesture for the girls to precede me out the door and to the middle of the street and then hand them their weapons. Willow’s hand instantly tightens on the bow, and I breathe, “Not yet.”

  Her grip doesn’t lessen, but she doesn’t whip the bow up and start shooting either.

  Rufus laughs, though he doesn’t sound amused. “If I were you, mate, I wouldn’t give that girl anything she can use to hurt you. Not until you break her spirit a bit.”

  I hold Rufus’s gaze for a long moment, my jaw clenched against my anger, while his crew brings three horses to stand nearby, waiting to see if I can deliver on the terms of our deal.

  “Well then, get on with it.” Rufus gestures toward a line of targets bolted to a building fifty yards away. “Show me what this tech can do.”

  I meet Willow’s eyes and mouth, “Run,” and slam my finger down on the button that will call the tanniyn.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF–NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  LOGAN

  Before I have time to wonder if the additional transmitters will make a difference, the ground beneath my feet trembles. Rufus backs away from the Commander and me, his hands out in front of him as if to ward off whatever the device has just done, while the girls race for the horses. One of the highwaymen holding their bridles pulls a sword as if to stop the girls from taking their mounts. Willow sends an arrow into his chest, yanks the reins from his hands, and vaults into the saddle. Nola and Jodi scramble onto their horses seconds after her.

  “What did you do? What is that?” Rufus asks as dust begins sifting from the rooftops around us and the few panes of glass that remain rattle in their berths.

  The Commander turns a vicious smile toward Rufus. “That is the sound of unlimited power.”

  The ground heaves, and jagged cracks begin forming a web around our feet. Highwaymen scramble for the relative security of the buildings, but I know they won’t find safety there. The only way to avoid what’s coming is to be in control of the beasts or to be out of range.

  “Logan?” Jodi calls to me as her horse dances nervously.

  “Go!” I shout as I run toward the side of the street while behind me chunks of the road crumble and slide into the ever-widening maw that is opening in the ground.

  “Not without you,” Willow snaps, urging her horse toward me.

  “Yes, without me. It’s going to take all of my concentration to work the device. I can’t worry about whether I might accidentally kill you.” I look in her eyes and understand her struggle. Willow is a fighter, not a runner. “Get Nola and Jodi to safety.” I lower my voice as the Commander strides
toward us, his eyes on the tech. “If he’s the only one who comes out alive, shoot him.”

  Willow leans down and grabs my shoulders in a rough half embrace. “Come out alive, Logan.” Then she wheels her horse around and takes off at a gallop, Nola and Jodi on her heels, while behind me the ground erupts with a deafening roar.

  It sounds like a wall collapsing. Like a thousand snarling cougars.

  Like death.

  Beside me, one of the tall metal poles that line the street snaps at its base and crashes down, pinning a man beneath it. He screams, but the sound is lost in the gut-churning thunder of the tanniyn that explode out of the ground in a mass of glistening black scales and puffs of smoky air.

  Chunks of the road rain down on the surrounding buildings. Glass shatters. And the beasts pour out of the hole and into the street.

  Everywhere I look there are huge, black, glistening creatures with milky eyes and spikes running down their backs. Streams of fire scorch the air as the creatures strafe the road. There are so many. A dozen. Maybe more. The ground trembles beneath them, and it’s hard to keep my footing.

  If this is what happens when I amplify the device’s signal with two transmitters, I shudder to imagine what will happen when I attach the rest of the transmitters to Melkin’s staff and use it against the Commander.

  A circle of destruction. Impossible to survive.

  I back away from the road and move my fingers over the buttons to send them south. The beasts surge forward, crushing metal poles, snapping trees, and barreling through brick walls and into buildings that immediately become blazing infernos as the creatures spew fire.

  Men leap from second-story windows, landing hard in a tangle of limbs. Most are quickly crushed beneath the monstrous creatures. The tanniyn are nearly the size of a small house. Twice as big as the long rusted yellow vehicle we saw when we entered the city. In moments, the entire south side of the street is burning.

  “Turn them west,” the Commander says, his eyes on the device.

  “I plan to turn them in every direction,” I say. “I promised not to leave a single highwayman alive to hunt us down.”