War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,227
them moving in lockstep.
“Which way?” Farley barks.
Maven glances over at her, wearing a familiar smirk. The shadows cut deep along his cheekbones and make his blue eyes stand out, vivid in their icy coldness. He doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t hesitate, striking him across the jaw. Silver blood spatters the tunnel floor, winking in the lantern light.
At my side, I clench a fist. I would let Farley grind Maven into a pulp under any other circumstances, but we need him right now.
“Farley,” I hiss, wishing I could call back the word as soon as I speak.
She frowns at me, even as Maven grins, showing silvered teeth.
“Up,” he says simply, pointing to the steeper way.
I’m not the only one to curse under their breath.
The narrower path isn’t difficult, but it does slow us down. Maven seems to delight in the prospect, looking back with a haunting sneer every few minutes or so. We have to walk three abreast, instead of twelve as before, making for a cramped ascent. The tunnel quickly grows hot with the presence of so many bodies, all of them nervous and agitated. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck. I would prefer to storm the capital at full strength, but I guess this will have to do.
Some of the steps are uneven and too high, forcing me to scramble. Kilorn watches me go, almost laughing. I can call forth a lightning storm, but tall steps are apparently beyond me.
The climb doesn’t take longer than a half hour, but it feels like days spent in the dim light, scuffling in relative silence. Even Kilorn keeps his mouth shut. The circumstances settle over the long train of soldiers like a cloud, sobering us all. What will we find when we finally reach the surface?
I try not to look at Maven, but find myself focusing on the outline of his body. It’s instinctual. I don’t trust him in any capacity. I expect him to dart into a crevice, disappear, and escape. But he keeps an even pace, never faltering in his steps.
The path flattens again, joining a wider tunnel with rounded walls and stone supports. The air is colder, sending a chill over my fevered skin.
“I think you know where we are,” Maven says, his voice echoing down to me. With one hand, he gestures to the center of the tunnel floor.
A pair of new tracks gleams, reflecting our lanterns.
We’ve reached the escape train.
I swallow hard, feeling a swell of fear rise in my throat. Not long now. Everyone else knows it too, judging by the thrum of activity rising through our ranks. From here, Farley’s half of our forces can easily get up to Whitefire, Caesar’s Square, and the cliffs that make up West Archeon. The rest, following Premier Davidson and General Swan, will cross under the river and link up with General Palace, the last member of Command still operating in the city. If all goes to plan, we’ll be able to overrun both sides of Archeon before anyone knows we’re here. And the Lakelanders will be caught in the middle.
But will Cal fight with us?
He has to, I tell myself. He has no other choice.
The official objective is to keep the city out of Lakelander hands. We can do that, at the very least. We can do that.
Next to me, Kilorn brushes my arm, sensing my discomfort. The burst of warmth makes me shiver again.
At the edge of my perception, something tinges. It hums and buzzes, the whine of distant electricity. Not above us, strangely, but ahead. And steadily approaching.
“Something’s coming,” I bark aloud.
Tyton reacts in the same manner, his body tensing. “Stand back!” he shouts, pushing Maven against the wall. The rest of us follow suit, moving quickly as the sound reaches us.
An engine screeches far ahead, closing the distance as it gains speed over the tracks. The lights round a gentle curve, blinding in comparison to our lanterns, and I have to turn my head to shield my eyes.
I end up looking at Maven, who doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.
The familiar train speeds by in a blur of gray metal, too fast for us to glimpse who may be inside. Still, Maven searches the windows as they fly by, his blue eyes big as dinner plates. He pales, going whiter than Tyton’s hair, and his throat works furiously, lips pressing into a disappearing line. All this passes in an instant as he quickly wrestles his emotions under control, but the moment is enough for me.