“Skrails,” she said at once, a dark sense of inevitability sweeping through her.
“Candle sensed their presence even before we saw them,” the boy said. “There were more in the beginning, but some flew away south.”
“To warn the others. They must be close.” She tightened her grip on the black staff. “They’ll be coming for us.”
“Helen Rice said to tell you she’s getting the children and their protectors ready to cross the dam if the scouts don’t find a bridge. She said we’ll pack what we can carry on our backs and leave the rest. Even the vehicles.”
It was an unpleasant prospect for more reasons than Angel cared to consider, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She gave him a brief smile. “I’m not sure. Come along. We’ll find out together.”
They descended the steps, stepped onto the dam wall, and walked out to the cluster of machinery housings. The doors were locked, but she was able to use her staff to burn away the locks. Inside, it was dark and close and thick with cobwebs and dust. The machinery consisted of banks of consoles that had long ago ceased to function, even with the aid of solar panels. The turbines that had fed water–generated electricity to the cities were silent, as dead as the cities themselves. Stairs led down into rooms embedded in the dam wall where it adjoined the gorge embankment, and here they found a series of huge wheels and connecting gears that probably allowed for the gates of the dam to be opened. But the wheels were locked in place by rust and time and perhaps by mechanical means that neither could comprehend.
Nothing here that will help, she thought.
With Kirisin in tow, she walked back out into the sunshine. Hawk was still meandering along the upper embankment, stopping every so often to kneel and feel the ground. His concentration was so intense that he didn’t even notice them. She watched him for a moment, Kirisin beside her.
“What is he doing?” the boy asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“He seems to be searching for something. What would he be looking for up there?”
Hawk dropped suddenly to his knees, both hands on the ground, head bent forward, eyes closed as if he were stricken physically. He stayed where he was for long moments, unmoving. Then he straightened, climbed slowly to his feet, and stood gazing south.
“Let’s go find something to eat,” Angel said, turning away.
She had rejoined Helen Rice and the others, collected a plate of food, taken her first bites, and was just thinking that things might work out despite the odds when the scouts Helen had sent north and south along the Columbia drove in, one right after the other. Those who had driven north reported that the only bridge they had found was collapsed into the river. The southern patrol had gotten less than ten miles before encountering the forward elements of the demon army, moving toward them at a rapid pace.
Helen was on her feet at once. “Get the children together. We’re crossing the river right now.”
Farther TO THE WEST, deep in foothills swept clean of all but the hardiest scrub by the dust storm of the previous day, Logan Tom was nursing the Ventra 5000 along with a mother’s gentle touch. The big AV, having survived the dust storm with its moving parts intact, was on its last legs. Logan and Simralin had started out the day with the expectation of catching up to the caravan by nightfall. Buried under almost three feet of sand and dust, they had dug their way clear at sunrise, with the storm gone past and the air clear once more, and set out. At first, everything had seemed fine, but then Logan had noticed that the indicator lights on the dash were showing no power flowing from the solar panels to the cells, and the cells were almost empty. He stopped long enough to confirm that the panels were both cracked–either by windblown debris or heat–neither panel repairable, and used the spares to replace them. But the indicator lights still showed no exchange between the fresh panels and solar receptors, and he was forced to admit that the problem was more complicated.
Electing to go on rather than waste any more time, leaving to chance the actual amount of time the residual power stored in the cells would give them, he concentrated on conserving what was there by running the engine on low and choosing the flattest route available. If the engine died, he would have to make a choice about what to do next. He was hoping he would not have to face that choice.
“Any idea where we are?” Simralin asked after a long silence between them.
“Some. We’re not too far from the north–south branch of the Columbia River. The caravan has to cross there, probably at one of the dams or a bridge, if there’s still one in place.”
“Unless they’ve changed direction,” she pointed out.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think they’re headed for the mountains.” He pointed east across the flats. “You can’t see them from here, but they’re out there, over the horizon. I crossed them coming west weeks ago.”
“I know those mountains,” she said.
He nodded. “Well, somewhere in there is where we’ll find this safe–hold Hawk is searching for. That’s my opinion, anyway.”
As if in response, the Ventra engine coughed and died, the vehicle lurched, and they rolled to a stop. Logan sat staring at the controls, as if an answer might present itself amid the vast array of colored lights and blinking switches.
“What’s your opinion about that?” Simralin asked archly.
Without answering, he adjusted a few of the switches and dials, made several concerted efforts to restart the engine, and finally sat back. “My opinion is she’s finished. Either I go to work on the wiring or we walk.”
“Which will take longer?”
He glanced over. “Hard to say.”
“Then let’s walk.”
He nodded. “At least we’ll be moving.”
They loaded up on food and water, sleeping gear and weapons, and set out. The day was warm and still, but not unreasonably so, and travel even at midday was pleasant enough. Logan hated leaving the big AV, a machine that up until now had provided both reliable transportation and protection. But he had known all along that he would probably have to abandon it at some point. What mattered just now was catching up to the caravan and reuniting with Hawk, the boy he was supposed to be protecting.
He grimaced inwardly. Not that he had done much of a job of it so far. He had failed to prevent Hawk from being thrown from the walls of the compound in Seattle, and it was the boy who had saved his life while he lay unconscious following his battle with the rogue Knight of the Word. Immediately afterward, Logan had been dispatched by the Lady to find the Elves and bring Kirisin Belloruus to safety, which once again had separated him from Hawk. Reaching the caravan and finding the boy anew, he had elected to stay behind to help defend the bridge against the demon army, and again they had become separated.
After all the emphasis placed by Two Bears and the Lady on the importance of finding and protecting the gypsy morph, he had expected to expend considerable effort doing so. But when you took the measure of the thing, he had done hardly anything at all. It disturbed him to admit this more than he cared to think about. He did not like it that the charge he had accepted had come to so little. Finding the boy had not been difficult; protecting him had been all but impossible.
It wasn’t his place to question the things he was asked to do as a Knight of the Word. It wasn’t given to him to judge. But he did so anyway. He always had. It was what had led him to this place and time.