The wind picks up as we reach the edge of ice country, blowing a slight chill down from the mountains. I enjoy watching the many of us who haven’t seen trees ’fore, as they ogle the stalwart defenders of the border. I remember the first time I saw ’em, the first time I felt the crunch of their dry, fallen leaves beneath my feet, touched their rough skin. It’s like yesterday and like forever ago.
A thousand thousand footsteps and the day is gone, the sun goddess mercifully dipping below a thick wall of yellow clouds building along the western horizon, behind us as we head dead east. And just as she starts throwing purples and oranges and pinks into the sky overhead, we turn south, toward the Glass City.
Will they see us coming? Will they expect us to sneak in the back? Was Tristan right?
I hafta believe this is our only choice. We all hafta, or we’re as good as dead already.
Purples and pinks turn to navy blue as the second day since Tristan and Roc and Tawni left comes to an end.
In three days’ time, we attack the Glass City.
Time’s moving too fast, leaving me feeling breathless all of a sudden.
We march on, Circ and my footsteps in sync without even trying.
We’re at the head of the column, just behind Skye and Wilde, who’re still leading the march. And as I’m looking out in front of us, watching the rise and the fall of the dunes as the desert breathes, I see something that ain’t right, ain’t natural.
The sky is full of what at first look like black clouds…but no, they’re moving too fast, much too fast, and diving at the earth and fighting with each other, and croaking and cawing and carrying on. And beneath the clouds-that-ain’t-clouds…
“Circ…” I say, my voice fading away like the last light from the dying sun.
He sees it, too, ’cause he grips my hand harder.
And then I know what I’m seeing, what ain’t right, what’ll never be right, and I know Skye knows what we’re seeing too, ’cause she stops, dead in her tracks. Wilde steps in front of her, trying her best to block my sister’s vision.
We’re not nearly as far east as I thought we were, ’cause I see ’em like the images burnt forever in my mind. Only they’re not images, they’re real, setting in front of us like a nightmare.
Carts and packs of supplies and hundreds and hundreds of bodies.
An army of vultures and crows fighting over the spoils, feeding, feeding, cawing and screaming at each other…
We’ve come to where the Icers were slaughtered by the Glassies.
Skye pushes past Wilde and starts running toward ’em.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tristan
“Kill me if you must,” Aboud says. “But I won’t fight with the likes of her.”
My sword is catching the light and reflecting it in a slash of white on the general’s chest. He’s weaponless—there’s no way he could stop me from sending him to whatever hell my father is surely in. I’m sure the ex-president would love the company.
If I do it though, am I just like my father? Killing anyone who disagrees with me, who challenges me? Would that make me a dictator too? If this man had something to defend himself, would it make any difference if I was the aggressor?
Even if I want so badly to ignore them, I know the answers to those questions like they’re a part of me. Maybe that’s why my mother believed in me, why she trusted me with a responsibility that seems well beyond what I’m capable of. She could see the truth in my heart. I’m not like my father—will never be.
Would she be proud yet? Or do I have dozens more moral decisions to make before I can proudly declare “I lived up to my mother’s expectations!”?
I shove my sword back in its sheath. The heat of a dozen stares burns my cheeks, but the one I feel most is from the screen. Is that…a hint of a smile on her lips? Surely not. If General Rose were me she’d slash through the generals in an instant, wouldn’t she? Maybe she’s not all kill-strokes and snap decisions like I thought. Maybe she’s got a bit of Ben in her too.
“That’s what I thought,” Aboud snarls. “We’ll take Lecter down, that’s for damn sure, but we’ll do it without the help of the traitors.”
“No,” I say calmly. “You won’t.” Aboud’s face turns red and he’s about to speak, but I step forward and cut him off. “You will follow my orders or be dismissed from your position.”
“I was appointed by your father for life,” he says. “We all were.”
“For his life,” I say. “Which is over. You remain generals only on my command now.”
He laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “Your command. You’re a child, regardless of whose son you are. We’ll run the army as we see fit.”
“Your choice,” I say. “Commit to fight against Lecter with a united Tri-Realms, or you can leave right now.”
The general’s smile is as ugly as a bat’s. “I’ll leave. But I’ll take the rest of the generals and our army with me.” He spits at my feet and stalks off. “Follow me,” he says to his comrades.
Three of the men follow immediately, then a fourth. A fifth turns halfway, and then turns back, looking at the remaining four generals, as if torn.
I meet his eyes. “Do what you have to do,” I say, “but I’ll show you no mercy on the battlefield.”
“And neither shall I,” he says, and then exits behind the others. Nearly two-thirds of my leaders are gone in the blink of an eye.
The four left look like they want to throw up. One of them is the man with the blue-plated glasses. General Marx. “What do you want us to do?” he asks.
“Prepare for war with the other generals,” I say. “We must defeat them tomorrow or there might be no one left to save by the time we get above.”
Through the speakers, Adele’s mother clears her throat. I look at her. Is that pride in her eyes? “I’ll get together with the leaders of the moon and star dweller armies. We’re coming to the Sun Realm.”
“Get here fast,” I say, motioning to Tawni.
She raises the controller and cuts the connection, and I’m left with two of my best friends and my four remaining generals.
~~~
The communications technician looks at me and nods. A red light blinks above the camera.
I look down at the script Roc and Tawni helped me compose over the course of an hour, after only managing to grab about two hours of sleep. I fight off the urge to yawn as I skim the fancy words and the calls to action and the “together we are strong” line that I liked so much at the time, but which now just sounds like a bunch of fake nonsense. Halfway through preparing the speech, the reports started coming in that large portions of the sun dweller army had abandoned their posts under the leadership of the six deserting generals. Good riddance, I think, lying to myself.
I know I should be saying something, because I’m live and the entirety of the Tri-Realms is watching me right now. But I don’t, I just stare at the paper for a few seconds, and then crumple it in my fist. When I look to the side, Roc’s there, barely out of the range of the camera, grinning that I-told-you-so look that’s so annoying but is so justified in this instance, because he’s the one who told me to just speak from my heart when I asked him to help me write something.
I chuck the balled-up speech at him and he ducks, letting it hit the wall behind him. That Roc: He’s a wily one, all right.
Turning back to the red blinking light and the glass circle that means millions of people are watching me, I place my hands on the table, trying to steady my nerves. “My—my father lied to you his whole life…” I can imagine the gasps from the sun dwellers, the nodding heads of the moon dwellers, the shouts of “No surprise there!” from the star dwellers. “He told you the earth’s surface continues to be uninhabitable, and in some ways it is, but”—I pause, knowing even the moon and star dwellers will be waiting in anticipation for my next words—“there are people living there.”