“Let no one escape!” came the clarion-like voice of the woman brigadier. “Reinforcement is almost here!”
The latest squadrons of armored chariots were now visible to the naked eye.
Kashkari came to a silent halt beside them. “The armored chariots are too high—the height they usually take to dispense death rain.”
“Can our allies bring them down?” asked Fairfax. “I’ll be happy to provide lightning strikes again.”
Kashkari shook his head. “Amara already asked. They said one battery of armored chariots was the most they could sink in a short amount of time. We’d better retreat into the base.”
“We should be all right with our face masks, shouldn’t we?” asked Fairfax as they made for the great escarpment to the east. The rebel camp had been carved out inside the escarpment, and the only access—that Titus knew of, at least—was a vertical fissure that ran down the front of the range.
“Face masks would suffice against first-generation death rain. But lately we’ve been hearing reports that far nastier versions have been developed.”
Fairfax glanced over her shoulder. “Look at the wyvern riders. Why are they not chasing us?”
As the rebels streamed toward the cliffs, the wyvern riders, who had reorganized into a semblance of order and formation, seemed content to merely observe.
“Why, indeed?” muttered Kashkari, frowning.
“Is it possible for us not to go so deep into the base?” Titus asked Kashkari. “Obviously we cannot flee in the open right now, but if we get in and are then surrounded, it might be difficult to get out again.”
Kashkari nodded. He once again subordinated their carpets to his. Inside the fissure, they did not go on twisting and turning through the narrow opening as they had their first time, but instead took a side tunnel that Titus would have passed without seeing—the entire way was pitch dark—and flew up to what Kashkari called an observational post, entering through a trapdoor on the bottom.
As soon as they had alit from their carpets, Titus grabbed Fairfax for a hard embrace. She was still safe. They were all still safe. Every such moment must be savored, his fervent gratitude offered to the Angels. “You all right? Holding up?”
She stepped back and examined him. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand, are all ribs. Have you been eating anything at all?”
“Enough,” he said.
Most of the time he probably ate a little less than he ought to—food being one of those things that he resented for taking time away from everything else that he needed to do. It was tougher to judge when his entire diet consisted of food cubes that tasted like solidified air. How much of that was sufficient?
She sighed, shaking her head. Then she turned to Kashkari. “How about you, old chap?”
It dawned on Titus that Kashkari had been watching them, a wistful expression on his face. There was probably very little that Kashkari would not give to be in their position, to love openly and without complication.
Titus could not imagine the kind of quandary Kashkari found himself in, being in love with a woman all his life, and meeting her much, much too late, when she was already his brother’s fiancée.
“I’m all right,” said Kashkari, turning away. “Let me show you how to open the view ports.”
They pressed close to the long, rectangular view ports as the armored chariots, dark and silent, streaked past overhead. The wyvern riders raised their hands in salute. Titus squinted, but could not see whether anything had been dispensed.
“That’s it?” asked Fairfax, after a minute or so of silence.
“That was all they needed to do,” said Titus. “From what I remember, death rain is highly concentrated. It is harmless while in liquid form, but once it reaches the ground and evaporates . . .”
“Why didn’t the wyvern riders evacuate?”
“Wyverns themselves are not susceptible to death rain. And Atlanteans are usually given antidotes before they go into battle.”
Fairfax turned to Kashkari. “Is this observational post airtight?”
“The entire base is, once all the entrances have been sealed.”
“How do we know when it will be safe enough to venture out again?”
“My colleagues in other observational posts will be taking air samples every half hour to test for toxicity.”
“So we might be here awhile.”
“We might.”
“Then why don’t the two of you take some rest? You are probably short on sleep, to have traveled so fast so far. And you”—her hand settled for just a moment on Titus’s elbow—“I know you’ve hardly slept at all since we landed in the desert.”