9th of Eylestre

Ahead of me, Cog shifted his pack, and whatever had been clanking inside it subsided to a faint, rhythmic creaking. The only sounds in the tunnel were of our breathing and the steady beat of our footsteps echoing back to us as we jogged along by the light of our ambient torches, saying nothing.

There was nothing to say. Nothing to do but go back to the Hedgerose and hope Arramy and Phaestra would turn up.

They hadn't met us at the rendezvous.

We gave them long as possible before making the run to the extraction point on the main road, where Killspear was waiting with his vegetable lorry. They hadn't made it to the lorry, either, even though Killspear stayed for over an hour.

Now we were nearly back to the Inn, nearly two hours late, and had seen no sign of the captain or Phaestra.

Cog hadn't spoken to me once the whole way, his face set in rigid, worried lines that added a decade to his eighteen years.

I wasn't much better company. I kept going over and over that moment, watching Arramy turn and disappear into the shadows beneath the tracks. Had he made it out the other side? Where had Phaestra been?

I was still lost in a fog, staring at the ground, mindlessly following Cog's boots when he suddenly slowed as we came around the last bend in the tunnel. I nearly ran into him. My surprised, "Hey!" died on my lips as I finally took a real look ahead of us.

There were people everywhere, sitting and standing in the broad hallway in front of the hangar doors, gathered singly and in groups along the walls. The men were all between the ages of twenty and forty. The women were slightly younger, tending more toward twenty. There were boys and girls, too, probably in their early teens. No children younger than ten, no elderly, and all of them healthy even if they were tired and filthy.

My mouth dropped open. I looked at Cog.

He glanced at me, boyish hope flickering in his eyes as he finally broke his silence with, "I guess they had a good night." Then he gave the doorway a wag of his head. "C'mon. Boss'll wanna talk wiv us."

I shouldered my pack a little better and joined him, smiling and nodding as we wove our way out of the narrower north access tunnel and through the little knots of people gathered in the brightly lit hall that joined the hangar to the back room of the bunker.

Rugga, and Ynette were in the hangar, each of them at separate tables, handing out blankets, food, and clothing. Marin had her Facemaking gear set up near my obstacle course and was taking sylvos for false papers.

Ynette's face broke into a relieved smile when she saw us in the crowded doorway. Her smile faded slightly when she realized it was only the two of us, though. "Ey, where's Phae? An' Cap'n?"

"Got sep'rated," Cog announced, walking around the last of the refugees in line for Rugga's soup pot and dumping his pack onto the overstuffed armchair near the map table. He didn't elaborate. "Where's Orrelian?"

"'E's in back," Ynette called over her shoulder, going back to sizing up shoes and shirts for the steady stream of refugees filing by in front of her.

Moving much less energetically, I followed Cog, skirting a young man who was built like a prize fighter. Anxiety neededl at my middle, the grim reality that I was going to have to tell Orrelian what happened settling into my weary bones like lead. Assuming Cog didn't beat me to it. He practically worshiped Arramy. Had he seen me freeze? Did he know what Arramy had done to save both of us? Or that I had done nothing?

Orrelian was in the stacks – the seemingly endless supply shelves that took up a good third of the hangar – loading more blankets onto a trundle cart.  He saw Cog coming and straightened, shaking his head. He didn't say anything, merely held out his hand and gave Cog a warm hand clasp and a swat on the shoulder. Then his gaze fell on me.

"Ah. Bren. Could-ee help Songbird get Carakis settled? They don't understand why they can't leave just yet."  

I was about to sling my pack down next to Cog's, but instead I just came to a stop, numbly realizing he wasn't asking me for a report. I stared at him, torn. I didn't want to have to tell him at all, on the one hand, but on the other, that report was going to hang over my head like an anvil on a fraying string until I did tell him. Cog was looking at me, though, and Orrelian raised both eyebrows, so I nodded, the action wooden and automatic, and turned around, trudging back the way I had come. Later. I would tell him later when things were quiet, and maybe we were alone, so the entire bunker didn't have to listen to him yell at me.

~~~

"We need to be able to give you false papers," Songbird was saying, slow and loud, her frustration plain as she faced down a blond Caraki man so solid he could probably lift a freight barge with one hand. She was holding up a set of blank identity cards, pointing a stiff, nicely-manicured finger at them. "False papers. See? Papers — You have to have these —"

I came to a stop beside her and slung my pack down on the tunnel floor. "Haben ista hander." (You have to have these.) "Meinden khaler Altyran Coalition." (They are necessary in the Altyran Coalition.) "Da besproden liches everes." (Do not leave, please.)

Songbird let out a heavy breath of relief that bowed her delicate shoulders. "Oh, I am so glad you're here. The rest of them are all handling this just fine, but not these... gentlemen," she aimed an annoyed glare at the blond, who was glancing suspiciously between the two of us, while his two equally large friends tried to edge toward the end of the main access tunnel. Raising both eyebrows, she pressed her lips into a broad smile and handed me the pile of papers. "Best of luck." She twirled on her neat patent boots and strode back into the hangar, her legs scissoring beneath her fashionably modern slimline skirt.

Excellent. Exhaustion dogging my head, I glanced around.

Hedwyn was standing there, just in front of the northbound exit, a rifle cradled loose across his chest. He wasn't being overtly antagonistic, but he wasn't ignoring us either and that finger inching toward the trigger guard said that he wouldn't hesitate to do what he thought necessary to keep the Carakis from blowing our cover.

Even better.

The blond giant focused fierce brown eyes on my face, thick brows furrowing together. It was worry, though, not anger that colored his words. "What do these papers have to do with getting home?" He asked in Caraki. "We have never had to have Altyran papers before. We do not wish to stay here. Our families are back in Carak."

"I know," I said quietly, shuffling the blank papers into a neat bundle. It gave me something to focus on. My thoughts were rapidly turning to so much fuzz. "But to get you back to Carak, we have to keep you hidden. If the people who took you find out you've been here, everyone here will be arrested. The papers are fake. We aren't trying to make you Altyran citizens."

"They will be fake?" he asked.

I pasted on a smile, knowing it couldn't possibly look real as I looked up at him. "Completely."

The man was still scowling, but he dipped his head in a small nod, then whistled at his friends, giving them a quick wag of his head. "Come, she will help us get home." To me, he said, "What do you need us to do?"

"Just take one of these and get in line by the first table to the right. Tall Ronyran woman with a sylvocapture stand. Can't miss it." I indicated the hangar doors with a sweep of my hand. "And while you're in there, get yourselves a cup of soup and some clean clothes," I added, turning to pick up my pack, dimly aware of some sort of commotion at the mouth of the tunnel behind me. "I think they're setting up bunks for everyone... too..."

My voice petered out as I got a look at what was going on at the end of the hallway.

Hedwyn was grinning, hugging Phaestra one-armed while holding his rifle out of the way.

Phaestra was smiling and laughing and waving a hand in the direction of someone standing in the tunnel, just beyond the light – a tall man dressed head-to-toe in black, which only made the tan of his skin and the silver of his eyes that much more striking.

Arramy was back. He wasn't missing arms or legs, he wasn't even bleeding. And he was looking at me, watching me over the top of Phaestra's head.

My vision blurred. I blinked. My throat was painfully tight. I lowered my head, unsure what to do with the rush of emotion churning through me, stealing the strength from my legs and the breath from my lungs. It was easier to simply lift my pack to my shoulder, turn around, and run.

~~~

I managed to get all the way to my room and close the door.

But by trying to get away from the guilt and the grief of what had happened in the compound, I had only succeeded in shutting me in with myself. There was no more protection. I was tired, my emotions were too near the surface, my hold on the stormsurge in my chest faltered, and no matter how hard I gritted my teeth, my face still crumpled up, and a long, plaintive whine tore past my lips, an awful, searing pain in my ribs sending me to my knees on the floor.

I clamped my hands over my mouth, but couldn't hold in the stupid, shuddery, wet sounds I was making. There was no stopping them. I groped around in the dark until my fingers found something - a shawl or a shirt, I didn't care – and I buried my face in it, muffling the horrible keening that was slicing its way out of me.

Arramy was still alive. That was the really dumb thing, and for some reason that only made it worse. I wasn't only crying for something that hadn't happened. I was crying because people were always leaving, and I was always the one left behind. There were too many people that I would give anything to see walk through that door. Father, Raggan, Aunt Sapphine, even NaVarre, but it was Arramy standing there. Again. And now the one person who always seemed to come back was the person I had disappointed the most, and that was what made losing all the rest of them worse.

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes that I sat there, but eventually I was able to start pulling my armor back on, winching it tight, cramming every snarling, painful thing back down into that frozen place in my chest and locking it in. It had been a long time since I had cried. Crying was messy. I hated losing control, hated how much it hurt, hated that it meant acknowledging what was gone. I much preferred the numb.

I was still sitting there in the dark when footsteps sounded out in the kitchen, coming down the hallway. First one set, then a second following. 

Then Orrelian's voice, low, almost hesitant, "Cap'n, if ya wait a moment... I've 'ad word, finally... It's what-ee were askin' for, but... My source said it were bad. Said no man should 'ave ta see such things... So... If-ee want, I can jus tell-ee what's in it."

There was a pause. Then Arramy's raspy, "Thank you, Dazh."

He must have taken whatever it was, because Orrelian didn't speak again. He remained in the kitchen while Arramy continued down the hallway. Then Arramy's door closed, and Orrelian swore softly before making his way through the kitchen to the back room and out into the tunnels.