BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

through cracks hidden by the darkness. More barked orders. Troopers searched the caves’ perimeter. They moved with urgency, desperate to stem the flow. Narrow crevices were found and blocked. The depleted audiences were shepherded into the centre of the caves. Gas lamps were raised, bleaching the scene.

Wulfwin stood in the middle cave, his helmet off, ear defenders shed. He climbed on top of the abandoned stage and looked around him, his face contorted. “Where are they?” he roared. He darted towards the rear of the stage, eyes scrutinising the seemingly impenetrable rock. He returned to the front of the stage. “Where are the Music Makers? People don’t just disappear. For fuck’s sake, find them.”

Deep in the darkness of a limestone fracture, Wella led Chase away. Ahead and behind them were a dozen or so others who had fled Bend Sinister’s cave moments after the Deaf Squad had stormed. They edged forwards in silence, dreading the sound of pursuit.

The passage was narrow and perilous, requiring them to scale smooth rocks above deep chasms. One man fell. He bit on his arm to stop himself from screaming. His leg had snapped on impact, bone splintering and jutting, red on white, through flesh. Two people stayed with him, insisting they couldn’t leave him behind. They exchanged names in stilted introduction. The rest filed past, promising to get help. Torn, Wella hesitated. Chase stared at her, imploring her through terrified eyes. They moved on.

In the centre of Chief’s cave, surrounded by the captured and guarded by the Authority, stood Ursel, impenitent, yet utterly afraid.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dawn. As first light diluted the darkness, the forest stirred. Chase lay awake, listening to its life signs: tentative birdsong, the chatter of squirrels, the plaintive cry of a circling buzzard. He looked up at the perforated canopy, weak light revealing where the forest ended and the sky began. It had been pitch-black when they had arrived, breathless from their escape through the Heights. Wella had insisted on making camp in Wickerwild forest, avoiding the city while the Authority went on the rampage. She had said she knew of a place. Chase hadn’t the will to argue.

He had lain awake all night, his tortured mind in a fist fight. Shame grew like a tumour, swelling with the gradual realisation of who he had become, how he had betrayed his own, what he had done to Cole. Then there was last night. The indescribable impact of Bend Sinister’s performance, finding Wella, the terrifying raid. Ursel’s arrest.

He knew she’d been caught. Friends of Wella’s, the last to slip out of Chief’s cave, had seen it happen. Ursel had been trapped in the crowd, couldn’t reach the passage in time. Ursel, whom he had meant to save. Ursel, whom the Authority knew to be an active member of the Scene, a prize capture, a potential source of information. Chase bolted upright and retched to his side.

The noise woke Wella. “You alright?” she said, propping herself up on one arm and rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“That’s alright. We should get on the move anyway.”

Chase didn’t respond. He sat with his knees up, his head bowed.

“You want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

Wella watched her brother, noticed the tremble in his shoulders and how his ribcage stopped moving as he held his breath. She got up and walked away, far enough to keep an eye without intruding.

Wretched, Chase wept.

After a while, Wella returned. “We need to move on,” she said. “I suggest we head further south for a while to give Wickerwild Mine a wide berth. Then east, parallel with Aldar Point. The woods are dense there. We should have plenty of cover. Any objections?”

“I’m sorry…”

“What for?”

“I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

“Says who? I don’t need looking after.”

Chase looked up at her, bewildered. He barely recognised his younger sister. “No, you’re right. You don’t.”

“Glad we’ve got that straight. You, on the other hand…” She helped Chase up onto unsteady legs. “We should get going.”

They walked in silence for several hours, Wella leading the way. By the time she stopped and declared, “We can rest for a while,” Chase was physically and emotionally exhausted.

Taking cover beneath the wing of a low branch, they sat on their heels. “Here,” said Wella, holding out her canteen. Chase accepted it without meeting her eyes. “I say we wait until dusk before we head back into the city. I reckon that’s three or four hours away. That gives us time to go wide and avoid cutting through Aldar Point. If we can find a way to cross the Spire, we could sneak back in through the east edge of Creaser.”

“I can’t go back.”

“The A’ll be done raiding by then. They would’ve had all day. And they would’ve started in Creaser. We should be fine, if we’re careful.”

“No. I mean it. I can’t go back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The A are watching me.”

Wella studied Chase, brows raised. “Why? What’ve you done?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I don’t know. They’ve got something on me. I didn’t fancy stopping to ask.”

Wella sat back, rigid. “And you still came to the Contest? Even though they had eyes on you?”

“I had to speak to you.”

“Yeah. So Ursel said.”

“I was careful.”

“You… It was you. You led them to us—”

“No! I lost them. I swear. I wouldn’t have carried on otherwise.” He stared at Wella, eyes wide. “You’ve got to believe me. I wouldn’t have done that. I was there to save you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“Ursel kept telling me that. But after Brann—”

“What? What has this got to do with Brann?”

“I had to do something. What if you were in trouble? I couldn’t stand by. You’re my sister—”

“That’s sod all to do with it and you know it. Where have you been the last five years? Why didn’t you help me then, when I could’ve used a bit of brotherly support?”

“I didn’t know—”

“No. Of course you didn’t. How could you? That’s my point.” Wella sighed. “You’ve not been around. That’s your deal. So don’t expect you can