209 A.B.

(4 months after the Runner's Rebellion)

Red, everything is red.

It is some minutes or hours before I gain enough sense to blink, groggily coming to the realization that bright sun is filtering in through my eyelids. Pellets of sand scratch my throat and I cough, rolling over onto my side and hacking madly.

Vague images flit across my memory. I recall a great, stone wall shattering and crumbling into the village below. White curtains and endless questions. An air machine rising into the sky.

I jerk upright. A lightening bolt of pain races down my leg at the movement and red once again spots my vision. I clutch at my injured limb and bite back a groan, cursing. Stupid, useless bloody leg. How dare my own body betray me. I am meant to be deadly, untouchable, and now...

Suddenly remembering, I straighten and cast my gaze around, wildly. There, off to my right, a figure lies motionless. My various aches forgotten, I crawl across the sand towards her. Red hair is spilling across her face, obscuring her features and so I shove the tangled mane aside, searching for any signs of life.

A full second passes. Then another. Finally, a shallow breath escapes her lips.

I relax, smoothly shifting into the process of checking her for injury. I gently prod her arms and legs, feeling for broken bones. Finding nothing, I pry open her eyelids, watching her pupil dilate in response to the sun's rays. She is unharmed, then. Merely unconscious.

I roll her onto her side so that she will not be burnt by the sun, then begin to disarm her. I withdraw a sword from the scabbard at her back, casting it some distance away. In her boot I find a dagger, too small for my grip but deadly all the same. Finally satisfied I sit back to wait, turning the dagger over in my hands. The hilt is worn, the leather patched and faded. If I were to guess, I would say that this knife is older than she is. A memento, perhaps.

My eyes flick up to consider the figure lying prone in the sand beyond. Her features are unlike anything I have encountered in the Wastelands; pointed and bright where we are dark and honed. I find myself studying her intently, considering the unusual colours in her hair and the way her limbs tangle in the loose earth below.

Two days ago I never would have imagined that a person such as this was living amongst the Miners. Three years spent as Jaron's assassin and not once did I consider that someone so... alive could be on the other side of my blade.

A girl who flies solo across the rooftops.

Who favours a worn dagger over a warrior's sword.

Who is a companion to a queen and a lover to a Commander.

Who remains aboard a doomed air machine in order to save an enemy.

I thrust a hand through my tangled hair in an attempt to sort through my scattered thoughts. I must remember that not only have her people waged years of war against us, but that they have kidnapped my brother along with countless others.

Off to the side, Kay releases a small, choked sound and twitches in her sleep.

The story fed to me by both Kay and the Commander rattles within my skull. It is plausible that their new queen has no knowledge of her predecessor's dark intentions. However, if the Miners are indeed the lying scum Jaron and Rowan have always been made out to be, then I would be a fool to even consider their innocence.

Then again, if they are telling the truth... this war and my position as Choice Warrior might finally come to an end.

The questions crop up endlessly and still, one nagging problem persists above the rest.

If these are people are not the enemy, then where in the eternal Burn is Noah?

Kay twitches again, capturing my attention and releasing me from my thoughts. Her brows are furrowed and her mouth tugs into a frown. The fraught expression on her face appears strange compared to the open, curious glances I have grown accustomed to. She moans, shaking her head back and forth. An instant later her entire body jerks violently and a strangled sob escapes her lips. I jump at the suddenness of her movements as she thrashes again and again, her cries growing increasingly desperate.

Keeping the dagger within easy reach I crawl tentatively towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes fly open and she bolts upright, trembling and sweating.

I fall back, keeping my distance as I wait for her to compose herself. I know what it is to have nightmares, having lost years of sleep after the fever took my parents. Kay's breaths turn shallow and ragged while her hands ball into fists. I suppress the urge to reach out, knowing that her senses will return once the dream wears off.

Sure enough, within the next moment she has noticed my presence and rolled into a defensive position, grappling hopelessly for her absent dagger.

I raise my brows and gesture at the confiscated weapon held in my hand. Her eyes glint dangerously and flick behind me towards the discarded sword. I can fairly see the gears in her head turning as she sorts through the information. Eventually, she arrives at her conclusion and sits back on her heels, breathing out a frustrated sigh.

"You sleep poorly." I remark.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." Her words drip with sarcasm and I have to fight the urge to grin. "You took my dagger."

"Yes." I make a show of studying the paltry knife. "I could not know if you would attempt to attack me with it when you awoke, but look here." I glance up at her. "You did."

"You took me by surprise."

I find it hard to believe that this girl has ever been caught off-guard but play along, gamely. "Your reflexes are impressive, considering that you are no warrior."

She opens her mouth to reply when realization suddenly dawns.

"I have to find my friends." She blurts, jumping to her feet and turning in place.

She takes in the sight of the downed air machine, its hull buried in a dune. I remain still, unwilling to strain my sore muscles until I absolutely must.

She spins to face me. "Do you know where we are?" She is making an effort to hide her panic and so I deliberately take my time in answering, knowing the importance of maintaining the upper-hand. I cannot manage the climb down from this dune alone and I am not such a fool to assume that her charity will persist.

"Yes." I say, finally.

A tempered blush rises up her neck. "Can you tell me how to find my friends?" Her voice is controlled but her hands clench at her sides.

"I do not know where they are, but I believe that I know the direction we fell from." I tell her. "We can head that way, together."

She bites down on her lip, hard. "Don't you think it would best if we cut our losses and parted ways, here?"

"We need one another's help." I extend my injured leg, grimacing from the effort.

She seems to consider this, her bright eyes darting between me and the ruined air machine. After a time she straightens her spine and gives a sharp nod. "Fine."

We negotiate the return of the dagger in exchange for her shoulder and begin to make our way down the side of the dune. Progress is slow and my leg aches with each step but I remain silent, taking care not to clutch Kay too tightly when a jolt of pain seizes me. For her part, she seems lost in thought. Likely she is worried about her comrades, particularly the Commander.

I realize that we are being tracked long before Kay does. I keep my ears perked to the nearly-imperceptible sound of a dozen feet trailing in the sand behind us, remaining just out of sight while I lead Kay on a complicated path through the dunes. The shadows recede just as we round the base of a hill bordering the river. I anticipate the scouting party's arrival an instant before they materialize in front of us, shifting my weight onto my good leg just as Kay jerks to an abrupt stop.

If she is frightened she does not show it, instead tightening her grip around my waist and frowning as if the Wasters sudden arrival serves merely to annoy her. Neither Jaron nor Rowan are present, so I assume that they have already convened with the rest of Kay's crew. One of Rowan's favoured underlings, a greasy-haired lank named Penn, steps forward. He is clearly revelling in this small slice of glory, making a show of furling his fingers threateningly around the hilt of his staff.

"Luca, are you injured?" The question is directed at me but Penn's snake-like eyes remain firmly fixed on Kay.

"I am, but I will heal." I reply. A woman steps forward and smoothly accepts my weight, leaving Kay standing alone before a half dozen Wasters.

Unsurprisingly, Kay speaks up without being addressed. "I need you to take me to my friends."

"You will not be making requests." Penn snaps. "Are you armed?"

I interject before she can reply. "She has a dagger in her boot." It is better that Penn disarm her now, before any rash decisions are made in front of a less-forgiving Waster.

I ignore the ugly look being shot in my direction as Kay hands over her weapon.

Penn shoves the dagger into his belt. "Turn." He growls. "Walk."

Kay strides obediently forward, her shoulders thrown back as we march downriver. I hobble near the back of the throng, fighting to keep up with the unforgiving pace. We do not have far to walk, the bend in the river revealing Rowan's party on the hazy horizon. The Miners have been rounded up and made to kneel on a flattened piece of the riverbed. Several dozen Wasters surround them, their weapons trained on the captives.

Kay is shoved into place alongside her friends. Somehow, her Commander has managed to survive his unceremonious arrival into the Wastelands. He is visibly relieved at seeing Kay but my former mentor, Rowan makes no such show as she crosses the dusty ground towards me. She keeps her voice low so that the Miners will not overhear our conversation.

"You are injured." It is not a question.

"I cut my leg when the wall fell." I explain, nodding in the direction of the Miners. "They healed me. My care and return are meant to be a gesture of peace."

Rowan's narrow features betray nothing of how she feels, but I know that no amount of goodwill can outweigh the hate she has harboured since well-before Noah's abduction.

"They will be punished." She says. Glancing over her shoulder, "I will see to it."

"Thank you, Rowan." I keep my voice measured, hoping to convey some semblance of authority over my old teacher. "But this will not be your decision. When Jaron is absent, authority falls to the Choice Warrior. I will determine the fate of the Miners."

Rowan's dark eyes flash with annoyance. "You disagree with me?"

"Not necessarily." I backtrack. How do I begin to tell an assassin that somehow this killing feels wrong, even dishonourable? I glance up at the crowd of white-knuckled Wasters surrounding the Miners, each of them waiting expectantly.

"Allow them to speak." I say, finally. "I have told you what I know; that they saved my life and brought me home. Their intentions should be made clear."

Rowan's voice is dangerously low. "I feel that I must remind you, Luca, that they have taken your brother. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Do you recognize any of the faces before you?" I deliberately avoid gesturing in Kay's direction. "Tell me if you have. It is possible that these Miners and the ones who took Noah are not one in the same."

"They are all the same." She hisses. "You should know better than anyone."

"We will give them a chance." I say, with finality. "Listen to what they have to say."

"And when they are found to be lying, murderous dogs, what then?" She demands, loud enough for a few of the Wasters to hear.

"Execution." I say the word before I can second-guess myself. Back amongst my kinsmen and with the newly reclaimed title of Choice Warrior to live up to, I know that I cannot deny the consequences. Jaron's constant reminders ring in my ears: we are leaders in a time of war. We must be examples of strength.

Rowan nods, shouldering her staff and crossing towards the centre of the group. Her authoritative swagger and steady voice demand every person's undivided attention. I wonder how she can stand so tall beneath their eyes; just entertaining the idea of being the source of such focus causes my stomach to churn.

"You have made a grave error in trespassing on our territory, Miners." Rowan twirls her staff expertly, the threat clear as mud.

"As I have told you already, we did not come to fight." The Commander speaks with a measured tone, watching Rowan carefully.

"What you tell me matters not. There will never be trust between my people and yours." Rowan leans forward, sneering in the Commander's face. "You will learn a hard lesson, today."

"My people are innocent of whatever fight you find yourselves in, we simply wish to negotiate peace." I am impressed with the Commander's composure.

"It is too late for such talk, Miner. Perhaps your Queen should have considered the repercussions of taking our people before sending such a pitiful group to apologize."

"We haven't taken anyone!" Kay pipes up. "You say that some of your friends were taken only a few weeks ago. It couldn't have been us, our ships have been docked in the City for months."

"She's right." The Commander says, hurriedly. "Whatever ships you've seen aren't ours."

"Do you really think us so foolish as to believe that?" Rowan thrusts her staff into the ground and the gathered Wasters immediately take up a low battle hum. "Our past negotiations tell me otherwise, Miner. The desert is our home. We alone are permitted to survive out here because we understand the ways of the Wasteland. You have threatened our way of life."

"We haven't threatened anyone!" The Commander's face has darkened, his control slipping.

"I don't care to know your intentions out here, Miner. The years have already demonstrated to us that you are not to be trusted, and that is enough for me." Rowan's words now directly contradict my orders. My heart thuds once, heavily as I absorb the turn in events. I swallow, realizing that my mouth is suddenly bone-dry.

"Our queen is a good woman." The Commander protests uselessly. "If you could just speak with her then we could end this fight and save lives on both sides."

"Our Chief would never deign to speak with your murderous queen." Rowan fairly scoffs. "He will be pleased to learn of the justice exacted today."

She signals to a couple of Wasters to seize the Commander, standing back and grinning wickedly when he is dragged before her.

"There is no honour in this." The Commander grunts as thick rope is lashed around his wrists. "Think about what you're doing."

"This is our way." Rowan narrows her eyes in my direction, a not-so-subtle reminder of the Warrior's code. "You and your people have committed a grave sin against us and will be punished. Did you suppose that there is honour in stealing people away from their tribes?"

The Commander's argument is silenced as a gag is wedged in his mouth. Rowan has taken up her place as executioner, twisting her staff expertly in her hands while she sizes up her target.

This is our way. I wish to speak but find myself incapable of forming words. The Waster war hum increases in crescendo, washing over me and setting my blood to boil. Rowan is right, the Miners have always been the enemy. They have taken Noah, they have killed my brethren. This is our way.

"Stop this!" A voice sounds at the edges of my hearing. "Let him go!"

Kay is struggling with the Waster holding her. Her eyes are wide and wild, searching desperately as she calls out to Rowan.

"We can help you get your people back!" Kay shouts.

Rowan pauses, slowly turning to look in Kay's direction. She holds up a hand to quiet the Wasters, stepping up so that she is nearly nose-to-nose with the runner.

"So, you did steal our tribesmen." I do not miss the note of triumph in Rowan's voice.

"No." Kay shakes her head. "But our Queen wants an agreement of peace. Let us go and you will have our city at your disposal to help track down the people who've who wronged you."

"Have I not already explained that your word is worthless? Stand down, girl Miner. No one can vouch for you."

"Luca can." At the mention of my name I blink, my muddled thoughts finally settling into place. I straighten my spine, ignoring the protest from my injured leg.

"Luca?" Rowan demands.

I remain focused on Kay, not trusting my resolve under the countless eyes now trained on me.

I take a breath and resolve to speak the truth, regardless of what that may be. "I believe the Miners when they say that they do not know who took us."

No one is more surprised than I am by the revelation.

Rowan is silent for a long moment, studying me. I force myself to meet her gaze, standing tall despite the ache running down my side.

"It is not enough to excuse them all." She says, finally.

"Do them in, Rowan!" Someone calls out from the crowd and the Wasters shout and rattle their weapons in agreement. Rowan holds up a hand, demanding silence.

"If we allow them to go, they will return to their Queen and come for us, again." Rowan points out to me.

"No, we won't." Kay insists. Her shoulders heave up and down while her eyes continually dart towards the Commander. "I have given you my word and Luca has already vouched for me."

"You suggest that I deny my brothers and sisters an opportunity for justice, girl Miner."

"My name is Kay." She speaks through clenched teeth. "This day has no cause for justice. Let us help you exact revenge on the ones who deserve it."

"You speak out of turn." Rowan snaps, clearly annoyed at being spoken to in such a way. "Allow me to be clear, Kay," She says the name as though it were something foul. "Luca may trust you but I do not. For me, the truth is simply this: your chief was caught in our territory leading a band of Miners during a time of war. That is all I need to know."

Rowan steps back, dismissing Kay as she would an insect. She circles the Commander, raising her staff over her head and calling for attention.

"There will only be one death today, my friends, so let us make it worth our while!" The Wasters' shouts for blood drown out Kay's protests, their war hum rising into a deafening roar and their heavy weapons pounding rhythmically on the hardened earth below our feet.

A single execution instead of a dozen; Kay and the others have been spared. It seems a fair price to pay, a respectable balance of strength over mercy. I think that Jaron will be pleased.

Someone calls out out my name. I tear my eyes away from the sight of Rowan twirling her staff before the Commander, searching for the source.

"Luca!" Kay strains against the Waster holding her. The colour has all but drained from her face. "You owe this to me!"

I feel a jolt of annoyance. "I am obligated to save your life, not his." I say.

"He is my life!" At her words something twists within my chest, an ache I have not felt since surpassing the number three hundred and thirty. I drag my eyes back to the execution, watching as Rowan raises her feathered staff into the air.

"Enough." I am surprised to find that the voice calling for halt is my own. Rowan freezes just before taking the lethal blow, her dark eyes darting towards me.

Drawing a deep breath, I force myself to continue. "I withdraw my request for execution."

A low murmur sweeps the crowd and I try unsuccessfully to shut my ears to the hushed conversation. I know what it is they are saying; a disgraced Choice Warrior allows himself to be captured by the enemy, then spares their lives in turn. Whatever small measure of respect I regained by stepping back into my role is instantly dissolved.

Rowan releases a strangled roar of frustration. For a moment it looks as though she means to proceed with the execution anyway, but she manages to hurl her staff to the ground.

"This is not right." She growls, fury written clearly across her features.

"Perhaps not." I say, slowly. "But it is my choice to make."

"We cannot return to camp this way, Luca. Will you be the one to tell your brother that we brought down a Miner air machine and allowed its warriors to escape?"

At the mention of Jaron something constricts my throat. Any happiness he may feel at finding me alive will be overshadowed by Rowan's story. I think quickly, searching for some way to salvage the situation. My eyes sweep the crowd, coming to rest on Kay.

"Do not worry, Rowan." I raise my chin. "You will have something to show for your efforts. We will bring her."

"Her?" Rowan's lip curls. "What good is she?"

"She holds some special value to these people, particularly that one." I gesture to the Commander, who shouts something incoherent into his gag. "She is a friend to their queen. If the Miners do have our people, then this girl's safety might buy their release."

I steal a sidelong glance at Kay. She seems genuinely curious about Rowan's response to my proposal.

Rowan blows a breath of air between her teeth. "Her companions will attempt to track us."

"No, they won't." Kay interjects. We exchange a look, some agreement passing between us. "As we have told you, our mission is peaceful. If you can give us your word that you will not harm myself or my friends, then I will concede to come with you and no one will follow us."

I pretend to think it over, nodding. "That is acceptable to me. Rowan?"

Rowan stoops to retrieve her staff, shouldering it once again. "As you wish."

Kay is dragged forward and the Commander shouts again, fairly seething as he glares at me. The ungrateful prig, that is twice now that I have spared his life.

"You have given us your word, Miner, but your companion is not convinced." I direct my statement at Kay, careful not to use her name and display any familiarity.

She glances over her shoulder, shielding her expression from view. "Let me speak to him."

I watch absently as someone wraps a makeshift bandage around my leg, trying to ignore Kay and the Commander's hushed conversation. I recognized the look of determination when Kay shouted her demands at Rowan; there is nothing the Commander can say that would alter her decision.

Eventually, Kay is tied and pushed into our midst. I immediately fall into the back of the group, envying Rowan's surefooted stride while she leads us downriver.

The runner's red hair is a distracting beacon amongst the crowd ahead. As I watch her I find myself marveling at the reversal of our positions; her a prisoner and me as free as the sand kicking around our feet.

Pretending not to notice the disapproving glances being cast in my direction, I direct my eyes towards the setting sun. My thoughts drift and I wonder when freedom began to feel so constricting.

* * * * *

"Brother, you are all right." Jaron's voice rings in my ear as he wraps me in a suffocating hug.

"Hello, Jaron." I wheeze, stumbling on my bad leg when he places me back on the ground.

"Just what in the eternal Burn did you think you were doing?" Jaron transitions seamlessly from relieved to furious, his giant hands digging painfully into my shoulders. "Did I not tell you to return as soon as the first shot was fired?"

"Yes, you did." I mumble.

"So, what excuse could you possibly have?"

I tilt my chin up. "I had an opportunity to clear all of the scouts from the wall. Tell me, did you lose a single Waster while loading the catapult?"

Jaron's face darkens. "That is not the point. I gave you specific instructions, instructions that would have prevented you from being injured and imprisoned."

"I made a mistake." I brush him off, annoyed. "What is it you wish me to say?"

Jaron glares at me for what feels like an eternity.

"You will not disobey me, again." He says, finally. "Do not forget that I have done you a kindness in allowing you to remain Choice Warrior. I gave you back your position, I can take it away, again."

"Perhaps you should."

My brother fairly growls, running a hand over his face and walking a few steps from me. We are alone in Pic dil Cir's underground sickbay, abandoned by our usually-faithful healer. I poke absently at the foul-smelling weed wrapped around my leg. Cade's medical concoction is already burning and prickling my skin, mending the layers of broken tissue beneath.

When Jaron speaks again, his voice is controlled. "And what of the intruder you have brought into my camp?"

"Her name is Kay." When it comes to Jaron, I find it best to stick to the facts. "She risked her life to save my own. She holds some high position in her camp and she possesses skills I have never seen before. I believe that she may be able to help us."

Jaron's eyebrows shoot up. I think for a moment that I see a muscle twitching near his mouth, but he turns away from me, pacing.

"What kind of skills?" He asks.

I relay to him what I witnessed on the night the wall fell, as well as Kay's fearless actions above the air machine. When I get to the part about her rescuing both the Commander and myself from the sinking ship, Jaron finally ceases his pacing.

"Strange. Very strange." I cannot tell whether he is speaking to me or only himself.

I sink down onto one of the bedrolls while he continues to grill me about the events inside the city's walls. I believe that I have been asked more questions in the past two days than I have in the whole of my life. The hard floor beneath me is temptingly comfortable and I consider laying down for a few short minutes.

"I will meet with this Miner." Jaron eventually declares. "I want to determine for myself whether she is speaking any truth."

"Whatever you say, you are the wise Chieftain." I yawn. "At the very least, you can accept the queen's offer to host us back at their city. If any Wasters are being held captive there, you should be able to sniff them out."

Jaron seems to consider this. "Their queen is either a great fool, or she is extending us an invitation to our own funeral."

I smirk, despite myself. "I think that we are getting closer to finding him, Jaron. This girl is the first real piece of contact we have had with the Miners, since..." I trail off, suddenly remembering.

"Since Lucie." Jaron finishes, gravely. "I will not repeat that mistake. Whatever we do, we must tread carefully."

I nod, my mind already racing ahead. If Kay can manage to convince Jaron of the queen's intentions, then we may have a powerful new alliance on our hands. It is possible that we are mere days from getting Noah back.

I have done my part. The rest is up to her.