Exclusive Extra Chapter Ryland
A shiver runs up my spine – hopefully just from the cold and not my survival instincts kicking in. There’s no leaving now.
Lightning booms through the night sky, flashing glimpses of the forest. Our trotting horses spook.
‘Eyah,’ I shout, refocusing Duke, then push him to speed up – as fast as he’ll go in the dark with rain coming at us sideways. My torch flickers, the last of the sulphur and lime are burning out.
Tristan grumbles something with the word ‘hellfire’ but the rain hitting our leather hoods drowns the rest out. He turns his head to shout at me. ‘If second shift isn’t reporting in because they didn’t want to get wet, I’m taking their boots with me.’
‘And their horses,’ I add. Checking on missing security in the middle of the night isn’t my idea of a good time, especially if they didn’t report in after shift change because of weather. I search for any sign of fire on the fifty-foot warning tower – the banshee – but see nothing in the sky. Which should mean we’re not being raided. Although this early summer rain is making me question the effectiveness of that security measure.
My torch gives one last pitiful flicker, then fizzles out. ‘Son of a bog witch,’ I mutter as we go completely blind. Is that another sign we should turn around? I slow to a walk and loosen the reins, letting Duke be my guide now on the dirt road.
The cold suddenly feels harsher. The rain wetter. Goosebumps raise on my skin.
‘You hear about that new kid?’ Tristan asks. ‘Levi? Sixteen.’
Tense, I try again to see through the moonlit trees. ‘You’ve mentioned him.’ And so has everyone else. It seems the town gossipers are treating this kid like he’s the biggest thing to come along since the world nearly ended – and that’s been nearly forty years.
‘Best I’ve ever seen with a sword. I watched him spar in general training the other day.’
‘Don’t do it,’ I say, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. ‘Sixteen is too young.’
Tristan laughs. ‘You don’t think he’d be good to join us in the elite guard? Even to try out?’
‘I think we need to be recruiting for experience, not just prodigies with a weapon.’
He huffs. ‘Says the guy who made me try out with him also at sixteen.’
‘We were seventeen,’ I correct. ‘And . . . we were different.’ Different in that we’d both lost a parent, so we were forced to grow up fast. I also had the advantage of doing it with him –my cousin – so we could watch each other’s backs. Which was much needed in this postapocalyptic world.
At last, the light from the fire beneath the covered sentry post reaches us, and we get our first glimpse of the mine. The gate is broken.
We both draw our bows and nock an arrow, searching for the threat. When it’s not immediately clear, we leave our horses and run through the gate before weaving into the trees for cover.
The door to the mine storehouse hangs open. Inside, four thieves rush back and forth, loading up a wagon with coal and equipment. My breath hitches – not far from them, three Kingsland soldiers lie face down on the ground. Where’s the fourth?
Tristan squats next to me. ‘Five raiders?’
One more thief exits the mine, pushing a small trolley used to transport coal. ‘Six,’ I say.
‘Maybe more in the mine.’
A woman’s cry cuts through the patter of rain that’s finally easing up. Our missing soldier. My body goes rigid as I recognise the face – Nikita. Twenty-two. General duty for the last two years.
A man with a chest shaped like a barrel shoves her, and she hits the ground hard, unable to soften the blow with her hands tied behind her back.
I glance at the warning tower – we need to get that lit.
‘Hold,’ Tristan whispers.
My attention returns to Nikita.
The coward who pushed her winds up and kicks her.
I wince, gritting my teeth. But when he draws his knife, I stand and aim my bow. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I yell.
Tristan drops lower and curses beside me. The raiders freeze.
‘Come on, man,’ I call. ‘Now, that’s not how we treat women.’
‘That’s no way to start an ambush, either,’ Tristan grumbles as he rolls to take up a supporting position further west.
A muscled guy with a beard that rivals the length of his sword grabs something small from his belt and flings it at me like a plate.
I duck as it whizzes by my head. It strikes a tree behind me with a thunk. What the–? I take in the piece of metal that looks like a jagged star. Okay. That’s new.
‘How about this,’ I yell, staying low this time. ‘You let her go, and–’
Another metal star flies, hitting another tree.
‘You ready for that ambush yet?’ Tristan asks from somewhere beside me.
I chuckle under my breath and ready my arrow again. ‘On three,’ I say. ‘One.’
Simultaneously, we jump up and move as a unit, alternately shooting and reloading until I reach the bonfire. More metal stars fly our way, and one pings off the plate of armour on my chest. Another grazes my neck with a sharp sting. I grimace. What the hellfire are these?
One raider falls from my arrow, as a couple others run for cover.
Nikita tries belly-crawling our way, but the guy with the beard grabs her by the foot and yanks her back. Tristan takes a shot, allowing me to dive behind a cistern and swipe a resincoated arrow meant for the warning tower from the stash beside the fire. I hold it to the flames, then shoot it at the banshee. It’s a perfect shot but nothing ignites.
Damn rain.
I light another one, but this time aim for the dry wagon they’re filling with our coal in the storehouse. Let’s see how motivated they are to kick people when their cargo goes up in flames. Tristan helps me shoot more arrows of fire, and seconds later comes the smoke. The men turn desperate, trying to put it out, while another thief just stares at their burning loot. Giving up, he unties the spooked horse, only for it to take off the second it’s free.
We stay low and watch the chaos. Our best move is to scare them away – as long as they leave Nikita. And bonus, the tools they’re trying to steal too.
Long Beard looks around at the barbed wire fence surrounding them, then shouts, ‘Get inside the mine!’
What? Why the mine?
His men obey, grabbing the torches lighting the entrance, then disappear into the dark hole at the base of the rock wall.
Tristan cautiously stands. ‘That’s not an exit, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I mutter. That was either brilliant in a way I haven’t figured out yet or very stupid. ‘Why didn’t they just make a run for it? The gate is right there.’
He slaps my shoulder. ‘Who cares. Let’s get the banshee lit, and the calvary will have them surrounded when they try to come out.’
Nikita finally reaches us, and Tristan cuts her hands free. ‘You injured?’
She wipes her mud-streaked face with her arm. ‘Nothing major. They came on so fast.’
She immediately goes for her dropped bow, then moves to stand not far from me. She’s shaking
– obviously not okay, but now isn’t the time to get into that.
Tristan quickly checks the pulse of our other soldiers, confirming what we suspected with a grim look. I take and light another resin arrow and fire it at the warning tower. By some miracle, it lights.
‘When the thieves try to make a run for it,’ I say to Nikita, ‘watch out for their metal sta–’
Suddenly, an explosion rocks the mine and all I have time to do is throw my arms up as a cloud of dust punches our way. We all hit the ground. Pebbles rain down on us for long seconds.
Nikita is the first to speak. ‘What was that?’
‘Their torches must have hit a pocket of methane,’ I say. How deep did those idiots run?
I push to my feet as a rock flies by my head. Then another one comes. I frown, looking up. ‘Guys.’ I can’t see much but the mountain sure looks like it’s moving. ‘Landslide!’
Nikita takes off sprinting toward the broken gate. I whip back around. ‘Tristan, run!’
He is, and I finally let myself do the same.
More rocks tumble across the ground. One hits my shoulder, knocking the wind from my lungs. It tips me off balance. A boulder the size of a horse crashes through the roof of the storage house.
Nikita makes it through the gate and I’m not far behind. I throw one last look over my shoulder for Tristan – he’s changed directions, now sprinting for the side. The cliff above the mine crashes to the ground. Trees snap. Rocks sound like they’re exploding. There’s an earsplitting creak as the banshee tips over, slamming to the ground beside me like a giant’s fist.
And then the avalanche of land trips my feet, and I’m swallowed up by mud.
‘Ryland!’
I flinch as a drop of rain pelts my face. Blink at the darkness. There’s mud in my mouth. I spit. Choke. Try to move my legs, but the freezing mud won’t let them go. ‘Over here,’ I call to Nikita. A sharp ache pulses in my temple.
With a growl, I pull one leg free.
‘I can’t see you. I can’t see anything,’ Nikita yells.
Yeah, everything’s gone – the fire. The burning wagon. ‘Tristan!’ I shout. When he doesn’t respond, adrenaline hits me, and I rip my other leg free. Immediately, I sink back into the mud. This damn rain.
How am I supposed to find him in the dark?
How am I supposed to find him if he’s buried?
I trudge my way forward but run into some shattered wood – pieces of the banshee. Wait – the banshee! It’s wet but still coated in pine resin. I fumble for the flint in my combat vest and strike it with a blade over and over until the flammable resin ignites. Finally, I can see a little bit.
Nikita rushes over as I spread the fire to more pieces of the broken warning tower. I toss her an unlit board. ‘Use this as a shovel. Last I saw, Tristan was running that way.’ I point southeast.
Then I take off, scrambling around boulders and fighting through the mud to get to the edge by the trees. My makeshift torch is quickly engulfed in flames, so I have to kick and throw it ahead of me. I hardly notice the burn on my fingers. There’s only one thing on my mind: find him. He’s not dead.
But he could be.
‘Tristan,’ I yell, my voice betraying my panic. I spin around, searching behind me. Minutes have passed. Too many.
No, he’s gifted and can share any injury with Isadora, his wife.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I pass the area where he should be.
‘Tristan,’ I yell again. But then I see something and throw my light in that direction. I find a body.
I freeze.
‘What is it?’ Nikita yells, running up. ‘Oh, I see him.’ She passes me, then drops to her knees.
The landscape before me drifts away, dragging me into another time. A nightmare – my nightmare – come to life. It’s the scene of a murder. The air is hazy, like always, as if I’m seeing it through a fog. Our attacker with the missing hand strikes my father and my mother screams.
Her voice suddenly grows deep, morphing into Tristan’s as he cries out in pain. I snap back to reality, stunned. What the hellfire? That’s never happened before.
‘Where’s Ryland?’ Tristan demands.
I blink and give my head a shake. ‘Here,’ I call out, running over. I find him covered in mud, but very much alive. My shoulders fall as I catch my breath.
‘I think my leg is broken,’ he croaks, then gives me a pained smile. ‘So . . . what are the chances we can keep this from my wife?’
I huff a laugh at him, because I get it – he doesn’t want Isadora to share this injury with him. But she absolutely will. ‘That’s a dilemma I haven’t had the privilege of facing yet, but I’m going to say not good.’