Haelo Rising, page 11
Vernado nodded, then put up a hand. “Wait,” he said, slipping back down the hallway.
Hank took off his tuxedo coat and undid his tie. Griffin and Specter did the same. I cursed my tight dress.
“We’re waiting for Dagger, right?” I asked.
Hank closed his eyes while he sensed as much as he could in our immediate surroundings. “There’s no time. I can’t sense much through the Pankyran stone of these basement halls. More could be coming.”
“Here!” Vernado called as he came running back down the corridor. He held four waterproof packs, with another pack and an intimidating crossbow on his own shoulders. We each took one. Hank put the two handguns he carried into the waterproof main pocket of his pack and slipped it over his bulky shoulders. I ripped a tear in the shoulder lace of my dress as I pulled mine onto my back.
The weight of the pack and the feel of its silicone straps brought flashes of memories: Dagger, Neo, and me running through the upper city of Pankyra; Dagger and me diving from Oahu to Big Island; Rebecca and me still reeling from the battle at the Yellow Plumeria as we escaped under moonlight through a pineapple field.
Hank jumped into the pool. The water still churned when Vernado told us to jump.
Forçadores were coming.
Cool saltwater hit me in a rush of euphoria. My body energized as my skin absorbed the oxygen and minerals in the water. As my vision sharpened, my mind cleared and every sore muscle in my body eased, primed for action.
Candeons were made for the water.
Vernado entered the pool behind us. “Pool” was a loose term. Really, it was a protected, private opening on the far north end of the palace down through the upper city shelf to the maze of sea waterways beneath the city. A gate with a broken, high-tech lock hung limply on its hinges in the two-story-tall iron fencing that ran north to south, separating the underwater palace grounds on the east from the city to the west.
Turning our backs on that formidable fence, Hank led us farther east toward a larger tunnel, big enough for two subway trains to fit through, that appeared to cut through the island walls beneath the backside of the palace and out to the northeastern sea plains where hundreds of Krypteia reserve soldiers were stationed. I knew the exit well; the sea plains of the Lóchos’s Homeguard reserves were where Wingo had taught Neo and me to shoot a crossbow and a spear gun.
But the tunnel was blocked. Thousands of tons of rock filled the exit.
I don’t understand, President Specter thought. Isn’t this where the troops move in and out of the island?
It was, Hank thought back. The lines is his face grew deeper. Turn around. To the solínes lávas.
Solínes? I asked, uncertain of the Greek word.
The lava tubes, Griffin explained. He put his hand on the back of my upper arm. A maze of ancient, narrow tunnels in the northern walls of the island.
I was familiar with the tunnels; they were how Dagger, Neo, and I had left Pankyra, in secret, the first time. I nodded, following Vernado, who had been the rear but now took the lead.
President Specter fell back. The solínes are still functional? I thought they’d caved in centuries ago.
None of us answered him.
We rushed as fast as we were capable back toward the tall iron fence blocking the city to the underbelly of the palace. At the gate, Vernado waited as we each swam through. On the other side, we stashed tux jackets, ties, and my heels in a crevice on the rocky floor. Above us, the upper city protruded from the palace’s foundation on giant industrial braces and columns, eventually giving way to the island’s natural stalagmites.
We skimmed along the stone decline toward the deeper currents. The tightness of the dress around my thighs and the gathered train of lacy fabric below my knees dragging through the water made it difficult to swim, but I didn’t have time to cut the dress. The hard contours of my arms plowed forward. Once we were deep enough to summon the sea currents, we swept ourselves west, along the dark inner walls of the island, deeper and deeper toward the sea floor.
In the distance, the city bustled. Candeons dove in streamlined current-ways between the massive, thick stalagmites that held up the city above. Those underwater stalagmites were pocked with the windows and doorways of the lower city’s second-class. Vines of glowing, bioluminescent light—similar to the pattern of light on the ceiling of Pankyra’s cave—reached down into the underwater structures and lit the rooms from within. The city glowed. Sparkled. It was a sight I’d never tire of.
We, however, were shrouded in darkness against the cave edges. We followed the northern stone wall, diving beneath the boardwalks, buildings, and ledges of the upper city, until we came to where Hank directed us into a small hole tucked sideways in the wall, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. Since no candeon could feel auras through the magnetic rock of the island’s walls, Vernado entered the tunnel first, making sure no one was inside.
While we waited, I looked back at Griffin. He was staring at my back. My mosaic would be bright now that it was underwater; the distant glow of the city would reflect in my scales, making it all the more hi-def.
Vernado came back to the entrance. Clear, he thought.
All three men behind me hesitated, then sprung into action, escorting me in first. Griffin followed, then Specter and Hank.
Darkness permeated the tunnels. Even our incredible candeon eyesight could not make out much in the thick darkness. The orange light of a pola message erupted from Hank’s fist, briefly lighting the way enough for us to see the tunnel curve up to the right.
Wait, Hank thought. We stopped and waited while he hunted through his pack.
Something didn’t feel right, hadn’t looked right.
When the light from Hank’s flashlight shone on the tunnel walls, Hank and I froze. The stone was scraped ragged. President Specter, Griffin, and Vernado probably didn’t know any better.
What’s wrong? Griffin asked.
Hank and I looked at each other warily. These tunnels are ancient, Your Highness, Hank explained. And hardly ever used. Only a handful of us even know they’re still here. He moved a hand along the gash in the thin algae that coated the stone. These aren’t old scars—they’re fresh.
We looked over the spear clawings on the ceilings, floors, and walls of the narrow tunnel. President Specter voiced all our thoughts. So this is how Massáude’s army entered Pankyra.
9
Tunnel Vision
After winding our way through the twists and turns of the underwater tunnel system by the light of our flashlights, we finally settled into a natural alcove that protruded off the side of one of the lava tubes, far from the evidence of Massáude’s march. Hank and Vernado each kept watch at opposite ends of the stretch of tunnel. If someone was coming, they’d warn us.
We hunkered down and waited for news.
Griffin floated beside me. His aura pulsed and twitched with anxiety.
Are you okay? I asked him privately, knowing that no one else could hear the thought I’d directed specifically to him.
He rubbed the back of his neck. I worry for my family and for our people. But I am relieved that you are safe. I’m sorry our wedding day ended like . . . this.
I took his hand in mine. I’m grateful you’re safe, too.
Thanks to you. His eyes rested on the bottom of my dress, where underneath, the weapon that had killed our attacker was strapped to my leg. Had you not hit your target, I’m afraid his bullet would have hit its mark.
Right place, right time, right training, I assured him.
His expression told me that he suspected it was more than that. I never understood your reasons for training so hard. But I am certainly grateful now. I wish I would have joined you more often in those pursuits. He rubbed his fist looking deep in thought. His strained smile seemed bittersweet.
You got your Theo-face-punch.
I did. This time, his brief grin looked genuine before turning serious and dark. Theo has gone mad. Massáude did that. He reached behind me and rubbed my back a few times.
We’ll figure something out, Griffin. Massáude won’t win. We won’t let him.
Hank came back to us. His words rang in the echo that always sounded with group thoughts. Your Highnesses, President. I suggest you all rest. We should have news from General Stratos or the Basileus soon.
Will we hear from Dagger? I asked.
Griffin reached down and lightly squeezed my hand.
I sent a message with as best a description as I could. When he gets it, he’ll know where to find us. Hank tried to sound reassuring.
Specter still worried. If he gets it.
I remembered the gunfire.
I am sorry, Griffin whispered privately to me, his thoughts not echoing. He will be okay. I know what he meant to you. He wrapped an arm around me and gently rubbed my sleeve. When he felt my skin through the tear in the lace, he readjusted the fabric to cover me. If anyone can get free of those men, he can. He kissed me on my temple.
I leaned into him.
Griffin was a good man.
If you need me, Hank thought, I’ll be just around that right corner. He returned to his post.
I felt President Specter settle down to recline against the curve of the alcove’s wall. Griffin and I sank to the floor. I pulled the pins from my hair and my scalp relaxed in relief. I knew I wasn’t sporting raccoon eyes—the makeup artist had gone waterproof for the evening after seeing what I’d done to the first round of makeup. But really, I wouldn’t have cared.
I’d come to love my people. I felt that burning sense of stewardship towards them. I’d worked so hard these past months to be better for them. And now I was tucked away safely in a tunnel while they dealt with my enemy.
We needed a plan.
My wife was at the party. Specter startled me with the thought. I told her not to come—her migraines were flaring up—but she insisted. He mentally sighed. I should be back with the Council.
You are where you need to be, President, Griffin thought. Not in Massáude’s line of bargaining chips.
Maybe I should be. He turned off his flashlight.
I did the same. Griffin swept the alcove one last time before turning off his. Let’s rest, Haelo. We need clear minds. I promise you we will come up with a plan.
I closed my eyes, unable to sleep. I’d woken this morning prepared to be married, and now I was hiding in an ancient lava tube next to my husband while we waited to hear word of what was going on in the city behind us. I prayed for Neo, Aaram, Cora, Lauryn, Jade, Griffin’s sisters, Ellie and the rest of Martha’s orphaned Atlantian kids, the palace staff, our reception guests, the Council delegates, the Krypteia, and the people of Pankyra. I prayed harder than I had in a long time.
Haelo? Griffin asked after my prayers had repeated to the point of exhaustion.
Yes?
Thank you.
For what?
For being the queen that you are. For saving me. For marrying me.
I swallowed the burn in my throat. I’m honored to be by your side. It was both a rote answer and the truth.
And then I couldn’t help but ask myself, Now what?
I woke from my restless sleep to the thoughts coming from President Specter.
I could sure use an ibuprofen right about now, he thought. Or a stiff drink. He stretched. Is it morning?
Griffin’s aura flared. Frustration? Anger? No, something more like guilt. Mixed with . . . resentment? I relaxed and melted my senses into his emotions. A memory—seen through his own eyes—of him reaching for a drink at our engagement dinner party months ago played in Griffin’s mind. Another drink. Another. Then, his memory of me against the door after he’d kissed me against my wishes, his thoughts foggy, pained.
I pulled back from his aura, feeling a bit ashamed that I’d invaded in the first place.
A stiff drink is not the answer, President, Griffin thought briskly.
My apologies, Your Highness. He pressed a button on the side of his watch. Its green glow illuminated the time. It’s not even one in the morning.
Time seemed to move differently in the dark.
Just then, the sensation of Vernado’s aura came up from the lower tunnel around the bend. He wasn’t alone.
Neo? I thought, rushing forward to the alcove’s edge. Vernado, Neo, Zeta and Dagger appeared. Their flashlights beamed in my squinting eyes. With muttered apologies, they quickly lowered the lights. Neo swam to me and wrapped me in a tight hug.
Aaram? Lauryn? I asked him, desperate for news.
Dad has Lauryn. I went back for Grandpa, but I couldn’t find him. Zeta got me and a few others out, then she and I met up with Dagger outside the lava tubes. He pulled back to look at me. It looks like Edward Scissorhands had a panic attack in these tunnels.
I nodded and pulled him in for another hug. I’m glad you’re okay.
Right back at ya, Sis. We both quietly worried for Aaram as Hank came up around the bend.
What happens next? Griffin asked. What is going on in the palace?
Everyone looked to Dagger and Zeta, who were hovering side by side. Zeta’s tiny size next to Dagger’s warrior body made her look like a lethal pixie. Dagger and Neo were still in their disheveled reception attire, though Zeta was in a sleeveless Krypteia dive suit, the angular military scale design cascading down the front and back of the top from the peak of her shoulders. Hip pockets, leg pockets, and calf pockets all showed signs of carrying weapons or supplies.
I gave her a questioning brow.
It was under my dress. Always be prepared, Your Highness, she thought to me with a smirk. You should have seen your brother’s face when I ripped that dress off outside the palace.
I had no doubt.
Dagger hovered in front of Griffin. When I left, the entire north wing of the palace was under Massáude’s control. The Krypteia quarters as well. The Forçadores were working their way to the south residence wing. He looked to President Specter. Your chambers and the entire Council House are under the Forçadores’ control.
And the people? Our family? Griffin asked anxiously.
At that, Dagger’s focused gaze softened. Your Father and Princess Penelope are safe at an undisclosed location with General Stratos and two members of First Team. One of his advisors is there as well. I’ve not heard or seen anything about Princess Hyacinth; she isn’t with her bodyguard.
Griffin’s jaw tensed. I’m not surprised.
Your mother—Dagger paused. They're holding Galana Cora in the Throne Court. Massáude is with her.
We need to go back for her, I thought. Right now.
Griffin looked about to burst behind his stoic mask.
We need a plan, Zeta thought.
How did you get out? I asked Dagger. We heard the fight in that room above us when we were on the stairs.
The two that found the passageway are dead. I made sure no one else saw the door.
How many of the Krypteia are free? President Specter asked quickly.
Zeta piped up. The city is a maze of Pankyran stone—I couldn’t get a good reading on exactly how many are still outside the palace.
Any news from Alfa Agema? Hank asked both Dagger and Zeta. The worried lines in his eyes marked his deep ties to his former team.
I pola’d Alpha Unit, Dagger thought, his voice low. I told them to relocate to our safe house in Alexandria, Egypt. But I didn’t hear back. He held up his hand. My ring went cold a few minutes ago.
Can Massáude do that? Specter asked, shocked.
Apparently so.
How?
By destroying a medallion, I thought. He’s disrupting our communication.
There’s nothing we can do about it from here, Dagger thought. Zeta’s ring still works. She’ll be our point-comm with Alpha Agema. For now, there are upwards of thirty kryptes still in the palace, presumably held by the Forçadores. We dispersed Beta Agema throughout the city for undercover security; let’s hope they’re still there.
And what of the reserves in the Krypteia’s training grounds outside the island? Specter asked. There were seven hundred stationed there yesterday. Someone blocked the troops’ gate.
Dagger’s demeanor grew harsher. Just before my ring went cold, General Stratos informed me he’d pola’d the Lóchos’s Colonel Dimitrios and the message died in the water. Stratos then called Dimitrios’s secretary. She said all units had been dispatched an hour before the reception. She said they received orders to gather outside Atlantis.
What? Griffin thought. Who would order that?
I’d met Colonel Dimitrios a handful of times. He didn’t seem like the type to follow an unverified order.
Dagger looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. I really, really shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself: I relaxed, centered my senses, and carefully felt for his emotions. He was raging inside, scolding himself for not having been up on top of the island feeling for approaching auras instead of giving in to his selfish, masochistic need to see the wedding ceremony. He knew he would have felt hundreds of missing reserve forces and probably even felt Massáude approach. He was nearly ripping himself to shreds.
I pulled my senses back before the rage affected me as well. He was falling apart.
After a moment, Zeta continued, eyeing Dagger closely. The Lóchos have been preparing for an Atlantis assault scenario for weeks. It wouldn’t be an unexpected order to move out. Colonel Dimitrios probably followed through exactly as planned. The question is who sent the order.
That’s one hell of a question!
President. Griffin scolded Specter’s outburst.
President Specter calmed himself, rubbing his eyes.
Griffin looked to me, then to Zeta. They’d been gone for hours and we never knew.
Zeta looked like she was fighting off the urge to strike at someone.
So there’s a chance the Lóchos Homeguard leadership is dead? Specter asked, his voice raised.
