Workshops and Rooftops

Chapter Sixteen

Myles remained completely still, blade to Coh’s neck right under the chin. The rest of the group hadn’t moved and the very air in the workshop seemed to stagnate.

Atlas Black sighed and spit thick, red saliva onto the floor. “Myles, we’ve saved Coh. That was the whole plan. This changes things.”

“That was your plan, Atlas,” Myles said. “My plan was to get all my friends together and get the fuck out of Dodge. I’ve been following your plan and it got two of my friends dead now.” There were some tears subtly sliding out of his eyes; the Sage doubted he would ever get used to people dying.

“Their deaths were not part of the plan. But Myles, every plan you could possible come up with involved the risk of death. Look at me right now, for Heaven’s sake.” The side of Atlas’s face has started to bleed and was threatening to drip off his chin. The dust from the road had thickened and dried it partway. “I just killed a novis, the same monster that chased you to this world.”

“You fucked up our plan, Atlas. You really fucked this whole thing up. We could have found a different way to save Pretty and Blink without you and Langley and Mariah would still be alive!” Myles screamed, tears now falling out of his eyes. These were tears of frustration; the tears of loss and sadness would come later. Why didn’t anyone understand what he was feeling?

“I’ll kill him… I’ll kill this kid right here,” Myles said, amazed at how valid an option this sounded right now. Just so you know how it feels to lose the very thing you were working toward. The only thing you were trying to protect all this time.

“Don’t,” a hoarse, rumbling voice said.

Myles looked down the blade at his captor who was illuminated poorly in the light.

“I got…” Coh continued, but couldn’t go on from there. The front of his mind yielded nothing; he had been speaking out of reflex.

“Myles,” Atlas said, “leave him alone at least; he’s been through enough.”

“What about me?” Myles said. “What about what I’ve been through?!”

“I wasn’t counting on the cavaliers recognizing any of us!” Atlas barked. “We were out there to make sure Coh was there and stay close to the enemy. Then there was an opportunity to boost Coh from the caravan, and I sure as hell was going to take it.”

“It got two of us killed; great plan, asswipe.” Myles pressed the blade a little more and it slipped slightly into the skin. A crimson drop materialized just above Coh’s near-visible adam’s apple.

“Myles… don’t do that,” Color said.

“Oh, really? … why not?!” and as he was looking at the concerned, scared, but mostly tired surrounding faces, he began realizing he wasn’t alone in his loneliness.

Marshall slowly raised his hands in a calm manner, knees partly bent. Nothing to be afraid of right now. We’re just talking. “They took out my eyes man. And my Dad? You forget that already?” Marshall said. “You gotta keep moving.”

“I watched Mikey, my older brother, get killed by cavaliers” Jewel said and Myles looked at her now. “And Ripley left me here.”

Myles looked at Color next. She just tilted her head. Myles already knew all that she had lost which panged him with a swoosh of guilt.

Atlas said nothing, but Myles had a feeling his story was worse than any of theirs.

“Where do I even start?” Coh choked with a smile, of all things. The drop of blood ran down his neck now and paused at his collarbone.

Myles took a dramatic few seconds to think about those reasons. Come to think of it, he lost the least. His parents were still fine. Mabel was still alive as far as he knew; hell, he could probably still find her if he went back. Pretty, his best friend, was still out there and alive. Blink, still alive.

Myles lowered the sword. Coh fell to the side out of exhaustion and relief, but he remained conscious. They did understand him and his situation after all, better than anyone. And they cared too. So why did he still feel so horrible? Why did he hate, hate, hate the hand he had been dealt? The little sword was still in his hand and he still had an option. He grabbed it with both hands and aimed the blade right at his head.

“AAAAAH,” he screamed, squeezed his eyes shut, and Color leaped forward grabbing the sword by the blade before it made contact.

Myles could feel the resistance and knew Color had stopped his horrible decision, but he couldn’t open his eyes. There was no way he was going to look her in the eye now.

“Why do we even try to live? You know how much easier our lives would have been if we just let that novis kill us in the woods in Winton?” He let go of the hilt and cried, because that was the only thing left to do.

Color’s blood was leaking from her hand where the blade cut into her fingers. It was sliding slowly down the blade as Myles fell to his knees crying. Color threw the sword aside (clattering on the workshop floor) and hugged him despite his protests and trying to force her away.

“Something other than yourself wants you to keep living,” Atlas answered the question.

I don’t deserve this, Myles thought. I deserve to die. I should have been the one the novis killed. Langley was the one with people who cared about him.

Marshall grabbed his sword, cleaned it of the blood he could smell, and put it back.

Atlas rushed to Coh who opened his eyes. “That you, Atlas?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re still safe.”

“Even if you’re fake, it’s a great dream. Good to see you.”

Atlas placed his left hand over Coh’s head and popped the faint, blue bubble and put him into a real sleep.

Color released him and grabbed his coat with her left hand. She slapped him with her reddened right leaving a streak of her own blood on his cheek. The slap wasn’t to hurt him, it was to wake him up from whatever trance he was under. “’Death might always be an option, sometimes even a tempting one, but now’s the time for living.’ Enichi said that once.”

Marshall walked over to him and helped him to his feet. “Get up off your ass, bitch. You know how sad Pretty would be in when we rescue him and find that you killed yourself?”

“I still blame you.” Myles glared at Atlas who glared back.

“No matter how much you blame me, we must agree that we keep going forward together,” Atlas said, picking up the shoto and handing it hilt-first to Marshall.

“I agree,” Marshall said, wiping off Color’s and Coh’s blood from the blade and sheathing it with a shliiikk.

Myles’s eyes were still ablaze with emotions, too many to coherently sort. “And what do we do? How the hell would we even get onto the Stone Compass now? Our chance at a surprise attack is gone and Coh isn’t even awake to move us around with his mind. From my perspective, we’re fucked, Atlas.”

“Pretty and Blink are on the Stone Compass, as well as Eve. We need all three. Coh’s power should return enough in just a few hours, but the Compass will dock before then and receive the report that Coh was kidnapped. The Compass will leave by then. We can chase them down, smuggle Eve, Pretty and Blink off, and leave.”

“Sounds easy,” Jewel said. “Almost like we shouldn’t have stressed about anything. Anything that’s too good to be true has a huge pitfall.”

“The watch and the hangars. We don’t have air support and if we’re dumped into the ocean, we die. All of us.”

“Fuck, why did Pretty and Blink have to end up on the Compass?” Myles said. If they’d landed on the Hook rather than the fucking boat they were trying to get on… “How the fuck did they get on there in the first place?”

The whole room silenced.

Everyone looked at Myles aside from Marshall who put his hand on his chin to think.

Atlas’s eyes were darting around as he said, “The Stone Compass has mansions on it. It’s a novis and fraiser farm.”

“A mirror from one of the mansions,” Marshall said. “They came out of one of the mansions, didn’t they? Sure as hell didn’t pop up from the ground.”

“What the hell is stopping us from doing that same thing?” Myles said.

“Nothing,” Atlas answered with the tone of one who made a great discovery. “Absolutely nothing. Myles, you’re a genius. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”

“We need to find a mirror, then,” Marshall said.

Atlas said, “There’s a mansion less than a mile outside of the city without any monsters in it that has quite a few large mirrors in there. We can use one of those. It’s where I’ve been staying as I waited to intercept your jump.”

“What are we waiting for?” Jewel said.

“Oh, no,” Atlas said and everyone looked at him as he looked at the door.

The door was opened and in the doorway stood one cavalier with many behind him. He was mostly covered in gore and breathing hard. The stubble complimenting his misshapen mustache moved strangely as he chuffed breaths. There was a sword in the hand that opened the door.

Marshall and Jewel drew their weapons instantly.

“Who just came in?” Marshall said.

“A cav,” Myles said. “Some of his buddies outside too.”

The cav in the doorway, between large breaths, pointed with his bloodied cutlass at Coh and said “He alive?”

“Definitely alive,” Atlas said in a perfect monotone.

“Green-jacket, you got something of ours,” he was nodding at the sleeping boy on the table.

Atlas slowly removed the barterrod from his jacket while keeping his eyes on the newcomers who were slowly moving into the room.

“You can own a book, a beer, or a building, but humans are their own,” Atlas said. “And this one seemed happier to be with me than you.”

Color handed her spear to Myles and grabbed a wrench for each of her hands.

Myles couldn’t sense any guns on these cavs. They must have used all the ammunition on the fraisers to drive them back.

“You’re really fuckin’ up our day, my friend. I tell you what, we won’t kill you if you hand over the boy right now.”

“Sounds like there’s a conflict of interest,” Atlas said. “Because I was going to say we won’t kill you if you walk away right now.”

The cav spit. Piss on that, Atlas and Myles could hear those words at the front of his mind.

Jewel rolled her head around her shoulders and said, “We gonna do this?”

The cav in the doorway hurled himself at Marshall, the closest to them, and Marshall twirled his blade up, but it glanced off the helmet. He was bowled completely over and slammed to the ground. Three more cavaliers sprang into the room, one after the other, like they were flying off an assembly line.

Myles backed out of Color’s way as she started throwing wrenches. They flipped through the air and started crashing off the far wall or the entering cavs’ helmets.

The whole workshop was three fucks shy of a cluster as Jewel and Marshall dispatched of the initial cav and Atlas hurdled the table with his hands, using his airborne feet to kick the next cav in the face and away from the slumbering Coh. As the next cav entered, a flying wrench caught him in the nose and broke it.

Broken-Nose grabbed his face with his free hand and screamed as he kept fighting, swinging his cutlass.

Myles grabbed Coh and shook him. “Wake up!” He was dimly aware of Marshall pressing his thumbs into the cav’s eyes as both of them screamed.

Atlas was exchanging weak blows with the two cavs before and the third one grabbed him. A cutlass rose to stab the older prophet, but Color picked up a massive wrench (a pipe wrench, to be specific) and jumped beautifully onto the table. She landed a blow onto the cav’s hand before he could finish the blow on Atlas. He shouted in pain and Color lifted the wrench again, but was swatted back.

As this happened, another cav, unarmed, had entered the room. He looked at Coh and scrambled to the table, grabbing Coh’s ankles.

Jewel chopped his hands off with a swipe of the katana. The younger new cav shrieked and fell to the floor on top of the struggling Marshall and larger cav.

Myles tuned out the rest of the fight and pulled Coh off the table and onto his shoulders. Myles wasn’t the strongest, but he could carry this kid who weighed even less than himself.

GET HIM AWAY FROM HERE, Atlas’s mind said loudly. How does he do that? Myles wondered as he took several heavy steps toward the staircase clearly built after the rise and pulled him away from the fight.

Atlas found his leverage and used the Barterrod to kill those two struggling cavs with a couple of stabs.

Jewel stabbed the katana through the cav on Marshall and the blade cut through and into the floor an inch from Marshall’s own body. A clearish liquid began welling up like a thick tear outside of the wound as the cav spazzed to death.

Color was behind Myles now, backing up the stairs behind Myles as he climbed.

Atlas climbed to his feet and helped Marshall and Jewel follow Color and Myles. As Atlas caught up, he grabbed Coh from Myles’s shoulders and continued fleeing with them.

The workshop owners, Mayahito Hang and his apprentice Miller MacGuire smoked cigarettes as they listened to loud crashing, yelling, and killing before several sets of heavy footsteps announced their way to the second level and then the third.

Once the footsteps were gone, Mayahito cautiously opened the door to the room he was in and looked into the large room where obviously there had been fighting. Helmeted people, cavaliers they were called, had stormed in, but there was no sign of the others who had paid their few minutes of rent with cigarettes. Several of the wrenches were on the ground, their largest pipe wrench was on the floor near the staircase, and two of the men there were critically wounded, one with his hands on the table, but the rest of him on the ground, bleeding out before their eyes.

“Well, feck,” Mayahito said as he took another drag, making the cigarette come to life in a glow. “Whatta mess.”

Then more of the helmeted people stormed in and the two owners retreated back to their room, closing the door.

More even heavier steps up the wooden stairs. First the steps were regular, but as more of the cavaliers took up the staircase, the more convoluted the steps became. Bam bam bam bam-bam-babababbbamabamabmnabmabbbbamabbabbbamabmabamb until they faded.

Mayahito and Miller could only stare at each other and start laughing nervously and shaking their heads, lighting up another cigarette.

After a dazed climb up two flights of stairs, they made it to the roof. They barged through a rooftop door with a roof of gravel and everyone either fell to the ground, out of breath, or with their hands on their knees.

The rooftop had a schoolbus stationed just a few yards from the door. It had no wheels and was completely flat against the gravel ground. Surprisingly, it had little damage aside from what work the weather had done.

“Color.” Marshall tossed Color her spear. She gave it a half-twirl so the blade was pointing to the sky and slung it onto her back. She nodded thanks as she swallowed, gasping for air.

Atlas made it to the bus, put his back against the tired piss-yellow metal and slid down, Coh now on his lap.

“More cavs,” Atlas announced through a long dry breath. The street’s dust had sped up the clotting on his face. “They just made it into the shop and are following a couple of bloody footprints up the stairs. We have a few dozen seconds before they’re here.”

Marshall put his swords away despite their being dirty. “Which way to the mansion with the mirror?”

Jewel kept her sword in her hand and brushed sweaty hair out of her face.

Atlas pointed down the bus and across a field of uneven rooftops to the woods just inside of the Ledge. Then he put his hand on Coh’s head again and woke him up.

Coh opened his eyes and shut them again. Then he said, “What nightmare did I just wake up to?”

“Get up, your life is in danger and we need to run,” Atlas said.

Coh chuckled. “If I had a nickel…” He rose to his feet like a drunkard.

“The cavs have guns. Myles, Color, lead the way. Jewel, Marshall, cover him and help him across the beams; he’ll need it. I’ll bring up the rear and make sure we don’t get killed from behind. Let’s go! Now!”

Color and Myles started across the rooftops, jumping over the nuances and sure-footing their way across the first few buildings until they came to a street. Myles was pleased with how well he could keep up with Color. He was no hush, but those days running around with Pretty and Langley (oh, dear, Langley) and biking had improved his coordination to be above average. A subconscious part of him was enjoying this part of the challenge, but was fogged by the situation’s lethality.

Marshall, Jewel, and Coh started heading along the rooftops, the hushes being deft, and Coh doing his best to be careful with his footing.

Jewel looked behind them at Atlas who was on top of the rooftop access, the Barterrod in the form of the axe. As one of the cavaliers exited the door, Atlas brought the weapon down on his neck and killed him. Then he jumped down and engaged the second one, kicking him down the stairs and slamming the door.

“We won’t let you fall,” Jewel said, looking forward again. Color and Myles were dodging about up ahead. Marshall led the pack with Coh directly behind.

As they navigated the rooftops, Coh slurred, “Who’re y’guys?”

“Members of the Astronomy Club and new… acquaintances of Atlas Black.”

“’Acquaintances?”

“Sure as hell wouldn’t call us friends,” Marshall said. “Speaking of Astronomers, did we ever officiate your being in the club? I figure…” we do it before we die. Fuck, Marshall, that’s dark.

“I mean, you gave me a name,” Jewel said.

Marshall said, “If we had bikes, we could have done the real initiation. I’ll bet Myles and Color did it right since they had bikes.”

They came to a beam that was only six inches wide and below them was a thirty-foot drop.

“We have to cross this,” Marshall said. “Any tips for Coh on crossing this?”

Jewel thought about both the stars and the beam and finally said: “Your center of gravity is your belly-button. Pretend you’re just trying to keep that part of your body steady and forget about everything else. Also, it doesn’t make sense to think about how far the ground is below you; your whole world is now limited to this beam, and there’s no sense in worrying about anything other than the beam.”

Coh nodded.

“Did you hear any of what I just said?”

Coh shook his head. “Center of gravity…”

“Let’s just keep him moving,” Marshall said. His blindfolded face was looking at nothing in particular.

“I’ll try it on my own first, but stay close by, in case I need help.”

Marshall took the first step onto the beam and started to cross. His footsteps stayed as steady as ever. Even he was listening to Jewel’s advice; it sounded like she did this often. He heard Coh’s footstep pat behind him, his browned bare feet following his split-toed sock-like shoes. Coh started to walk, but not well, only focusing on the beam underfoot, keeping his gaze on Marshall’s back and his feet. Jewel held on to his hand as they continued across the beam.

With the hushes’ balance, they made it across without falling and pressed on. Every other building they would glimpse the cavaliers behind them in the distance, slightly closer with every building they traveled.

On a building with heavily rusted and corroded air-conditioning units, three fraisers against a windblock spotted them. Each had a spear, two of which were wooden, and another had a metal tip. They scrambled to their feet, holding out their spears. By their form and finesse even in standing up, all three appeared to be hushes. The spear-holding fraisers stayed where they were, obviously mistaking the Astronomers as a threat and holding a defensive position.

“We aren’t here for you,” Jewel said.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourselves,” Marshall added.

The three spear-holders stayed standing, but relaxed.

With Jewel leading and Marshall leading the rear, they pressed on, Jewel glancing up to make sure they didn’t lose Color and Myles.

Then Coh said, “Gimmie a second. Coh needs a breather.” He sat against one of the ledges.

“We really need to go,” Marshall said. They had been keeping up quite well with Color and Myles who were only a building or two ahead now. The city ended in five or so more buildings and then came the clearing.

“Give the adrenaline a second to kick in,” Coh said. Then he rose to his feet seeming sturdier than before. “Alright. Copper’s wearing off. It’s exponential, you know. Those first few minutes without it are the worst, but it should be a bit better now. Don’t let me cross those beams by myself. Also, that sleep-thing Atlas did to me didn’t help either. Now I just feel groggy.”

“We’ll be sure to tell him when we aren’t running for our lives,” Jewel said. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way… I don’t know either of your names,” Coh said.

“Jewel!” Jewel said as she started jogging across the rooftop to the end.

“How about them?” Coh pointed.

Marshall sensed what was coming. “SHIT, Jewel, now we’re getting chased by people I probably don’t know because I can’t fucking see them!” He grabbed Coh and hustled him along.

“Just RUN!” Jewel shouted back. “Get Coh here so we can cross!”

There was a hangar approaching Marshall who backed off once he saw the daito drawn.

Coh stumbled along by himself in a more coordinated jog now and met Jewel at a wider connecting beam over the street.

Another fraiser gang, huh? Marshall whipped the swords around. “Get Coh to the clearing and make sure you keep up with Color and Myles!”

“Just buy us as much time as you can!” Jewel said.

Marshall gritted his teeth and said to himself: “I’ll buy you a whole grandfather clock’s worth of time. Can’t we catch one lousy break?”

Atlas had sent the cavs sprawling down the staircase, grabbed the cutlass from the cav he killed with the axe, and jammed it into the crevice between the hinges. That should earn us a few more seconds.

Atlas Black’s hands were still slick with blood as he started in the direction the Astronomers had taken. All things considered, the plan wasn’t completely fucked.

Across buildings and over a street where he saw a few cavaliers who recognized him and ducked into a nearby building.

Not good. They’ll be on the roof soon as well.

He kept on, passing a few tense spear-holding fraisers and then seeing a hangar whoosh overhead in his same direction. “Please don’t be going for Coh…” These fraiser gangs would go as far as selling their own bottom-feeding members to the cavs for money. And if they knew who Coh was, that was even worse.

As he hiked up a partly-sloped roof, he spotted Marshall in his blindfolded glory drawing his swords and warding off that hangar. And there were a half-dozen or so other fraisers heading his way as well.

Also not good.

The Barterrod still in hand, Atlas approached from behind them. He hurdled another rooftop and jogged toward Marshall who hadn’t quite met his attackers.

The fraisers heard Atlas coming and parted like a school of fish.

“Marshall, it’s me,” Atlas said as he skidded to a stop and stood between the fraisers and the Astronomy Club’s Guru.

The fraisers only hesitated, but stayed where they were. Some had clubs, two had knives.

Atlas seethed and brought the Barterrod behind his head, quickly transforming it into a giant hammer. He slammed it into the roof and it resounded, creating a large dent.

Atlas took one step toward the gang, they broke ranks and fled.

“Let’s go, let’s go now,” Atlas said.

Atlas and Marshall stepped quickly now, dodging about the uneven terrain and finally coming to the end of the city where Jewel and Color were helping Myles and Coh down a balcony on a building to their left.

“There,” Atlas said, pointing with the Barterrod at the rest of the Astronomers. Then he willed his hand open and tucked it back into his jacket. He jogged along with Marshall, feeling dull pain in his ribs thanks to the adrenaline. His arms and back were sweating in his coat despite the cool air and wind as he ran, watching his hands shake like maracas.

They finally made it to the ground.

“Trees. That way.” Atlas was hunched over, clutching his broken chest as he pointed in a particular direction.

“Are you okay?” Myles said.

“Yes,” Atlas said. Again, Myles could sense that Atlas was speaking honestly. Maybe he was hurt, but Myles could recognize that Atlas’s perception of ‘okay’ stretched beyond now. It looked ahead, knowing they would all be okay.

“The cavs are going to shoot at us; spread out across the field as you run and strafe.”

“’Strafe’?” Color said.

“Side-to-side running!” Marshall said as he started his run with one hand on his daisho to make sure they didn’t rattle or hit his leg as he ran.

Jewel had a hand on her katana hilt when she started sprinting across the field.

Myles took one more look at Atlas who was checking Coh for wounds and making sure he was okay to run. Then the Sage took off on his own, watching Color’s white hair bob and weave along her head, Jewel’s seasoned and measured footsteps propel her along the ground, and Marshall’s body whisking along with them. Myles naturally fell behind.

It was about fifty feet into running that he heard the first gunshot. The bullet whisked into the ground somewhere close enough to hear it. Myles skipped a step before continuing. They’re shooting at us, hoping to hurt us. That bullet could had killed me. It was a simple thought, but it was still so surprising that he needed a second to comprehend.

Just to his left was the rest of the caravan protruding, stopped before entering the city. There were scant fraisers and cavaliers fighting now; the cavs appeared to have fled, but the fraisers, in their vigor, pressed on with the killing.

More gunshots, some of these sounding like they were coming from a machine gun. Then there was yelling from Stablefield.

Myles took a look back as he ran.

Atlas and Coh were running several feet apart in a meandering run. It would definitely be hard to hit them with a bullet from far off. Atlas waved Myles on. “Keep running!”

Myles did just that, and the run, the heaving breaths, the exhaustion, started cascading on him. So many factors that could kill him right now. If I stopped running right now, my life could end and I would die. His heart was pumping young, strong blood and his stomach was empty to the point of pain. The adrenaline didn’t allow pain receptors to communicate with the brain because the priority was: Stay alive. The grass treadmilled underfoot and his progress was always the same. His progress wasn’t enough. He wasn’t safe yet and he needed to keep running.

Bullets slapped the ground around him and whispered fiercely in the ground and grass, but none had hit him.

“C’mon RUN, slowpoke!” Marshall’s voice said up ahead. “Pick up your feet, fatass!”

“Run Myles! Run!” Color, Jewel, and Marshall were standing at the treeline now, beckoning frantically less than a hundred feet ahead.

“Hurry! C’mon Atlas! Coh, RUN. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES,” Jewel said.

A bullet whispered a sweet nothing less than a foot from Myles’s ear. “FUCK!” he said and raised his hands. His legs were numb, but somehow they pressed on in a full sprint. How am I even running right now?

His energy hit rock bottom and he nearly fell to the ground when he reached the trees. Myles pup his back to one of the trunks and blocked the city of Stablefield from his view.

“Not good,” Jewel said as she and Color gazed at the city, now over a football field and a half away.

Myles stole several more large helpings of air before looking back. Atlas and Coh made it and the bullets had stopped. Myles looked deeper into the picture and noticed the edge of the city. A few small figures had emerged and more were following.

“Fraisers,” Atlas said between gasps of breath which were an audible: “Huhhh. Huhhh. Huhhh.”

“Everyone wants me,” Coh said stupidly as he sank to the ground. Only Jewel and Color didn’t seem winded.

“Gotta keep moving.” Atlas stood up straight. “Mansion’s in the woods. I’ll lead, Coh behind me. We’ll set the pace since we aren’t as fast. Color and Jewel, you’re in the back in case we get flanked. Let us know if we need to take a stand. Myles and Marshall are in the middle.”

Atlas Black started walking, favoring one side of his body, and then tilted into a jog.

There was a sickening familiarity in Myles’s stomach. He was behind Marshall and said, “Reminds me of Winton a few nights ago.”

“Winton like a month ago, you mean,” Marshall said over his shoulder in between breaths.

“We landed just a few nights ago, what do you mean?”

“I mean I was here nearly a month locked in a cage by the cavaliers. That’s how my fraise advanced so quickly.”

“Locked in a cage?”

“Locked up like that fucking novis Atlas killed.”

It was back to the sturdy, heavy footsteps through the woods. The rattling of teeth and cheeks and the sudden compression of the legbones as they took on the shock of each step.

Color and Jewel kept glancing back to check on the progress of their pursuers, but they’d been mostly lost in the woods. After the fifth check and about a quarter-mile into the run, Color spotted a flash of movement. She’d half-hoped that they gave up the chase, but that first little move in the woods and then the second and third made her heart sink.

Jewel saw it at the same time and said, “They’re on us! Run faster!”

Atlas put on a burst of speed, but Coh kept his pace. “I can’t run like that. I’m at my limit.”

Marshall ran alongside Coh and started hitting his back. “C’mon, we’re almost there. Let’s GO. Atlas, how much further?”

“Since entering the trees, we’re more than halfway!” Atlas said, hoping that made sense.

To Myles it sounded like the treeline was the halfway mark. Hadn’t they run the full length of that field already?

“Keep leading the way!” Myles said to Atlas who had turned around and was waiting for the rest to catch up.

Atlas started walking back toward Stablefield. He pointed into the woods without looking. “It’s that way. Color! Jewel! Get behind me.”

Atlas Black made it to the back of the line and put himself between the Astronomers and the fraisers chasing them. He once again drew the Barterrod from his jacket, watching six fraisers jog into view. He was holding his weapon at his side as it slid into a five-foot mace with a rectangle head.

“What a day,” he muttered and then took a deep breath as he waited.