After the Walls

Chapter 6

Ground shock ricochets through my feet as I leap from the last terrace and land on the ground. My teeth rattle in my skull at the impact. The icy wind and snow slice into my exposed skin. I glance around, assessing my surroundings. The dark clouds cover the moon. Shadows shroud the paths skirting the palace. I slither down a path, rounding the palace, making my way across the snow-coated lawn to the headquarters, my boots crunching.

I sneak into the headquarters and find my locker of weapons in the darkness. As I slip the knives into my belt, I sling my father's sword over my shoulder, sheathed in its scabbard.

I make my way to the Convex Sector via the underground tunnels, choosing the most desolate paths to take me across the river. Every drip of water or scurry of rats makes me jump and glance over my shoulder. I emerge from the tunnels in the depths of a Convex village. Squat buildings cling tightly together, with narrow alleyways between them. Hugging the shadows, I move through the streets until I arrive at the chosen pub. The Drunken Bull. I lurk in the darkness, waiting for him.

Finally, a cloaked figure steps into the sliver of light from the peeking moon above. I scurry across the tight crossroads, following him into the liquid black alleyway. We don't talk. I remain several paces behind him, like his shadow. He slips into a doorway almost blocked by piles of hay. The potent smell of farm animals and their droppings.

We mount some questionable, creaking wooden stairs and enter a loft above the bleating, shuffling goats below.

"This is your home?" I ask, biting back a laugh.

"Shh!" Then he points below, finger over his lips.

The wooden gate groans as the farmer slips into the goat pen, gripping a dancing lamp. He tops on the water troughs and pours animal feed into the crates. His low humming seeps into my ears as he rakes the hay and tosses fresh clumps around the barn. Then he pets the goats' heads and wishes them goodnight. He disappears into the dark corridor next to the pens.

As the door closes behind him, Ajax grins at me. "Like my place?"

There is a blanket crumpled up against the corner. A bowl and spoon. A dented flask of whiskey. Some matches and a lamp. My heart aches for all he's lost. Killian. His best friend. Ajax gestures for the blanket and we plop down, huddling in the darkness and low light.

"He does not know you're here." I shake my head, matching his low voice. "What a scavenger you are."

"It's dry and warm." He shrugs, blue eyes glimmering in the sliver of moonlight stretching in through the small window in the loft.

I can't help but lurch forward, pulling my friend into a hug. My heart aches as I feel his bony shoulders and slim frame. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, prison buddy," he says. "Ruben and Aston miss you as well."

I bite my lip. "How is Aston?"

Ajax sighs. "Still doesn't remember you sacrificed your freedom for his life. That shadowteeth's blood is truly a double-edged sword for healing. Blurring memories yet healing injuries and ailments. We still don't understand how it works, since Edward drinks it and his memories remain well intact." He pauses, heaving a sigh. "One day, when it's safe, we can tell Aston what happened."

"I'm going to fight the Red Movement when they arrive," I say, changing the subject before we can talk about Ruben. "I have to convince Edward I am with him."

He nods. "Have you figured out his weakness?"

"Not yet." I heave a frustrated sigh. "But I think it has something to do with whatever scared him away from the Red Movement."