It was too close for speaking when Óraithe took a proper count. Three at the gate proper. Two more than she remembered. And a half dozen on the leading edge of the wall. She’d never known so many to be there in her nights spent watching them. Óraithe stopped and dropped to her stomach causing Scaa to whip in surprise and do the same. A panic set in. Was this another betrayal? Did they mean to walk her through the tunnel and put her back into that cell? That horrible cell… She could see Teas’s face. Crystal clear, crying.
“What is this?” She whispered the words, tinged with anger and fear, at Scaa.
Scaa shook her head wordlessly, seeming confused. Óraithe nodded her head at the gate and the walk above.
“Too many.”
Scaa looked to the guards and came to Óraithe’s side slowly, dropping beside her.
“Do we return?”
Óraithe studied Scaa’s eyes. There was no hint of a lie in them. Only concern.
“Love?”
The word pulled Óraithe from the dark place in her mind. She shook her head.
“No… No, we must find what we can.”
Óraithe stood and Scaa came up beside her. They made the tunnel with no trouble. It was as it had been before. Scaa led them and Óraithe did all she could to keep from reaching out to touch her. They came to the end of the tunnel and Scaa stood to leave it. Just as she did, Óraithe heard a man’s voice, gruff and annoyed.
“City’s shut, boy. No reason you’d be comin’ in through them tunnels unless there was no good—”
Óraithe did not hear the rest. Scaa turned and pushed her back into the tunnel. “Go!”
A shout came from behind as Óraithe turned to run. She could feel Scaa impact the ground behind her only a few times. She spun on her heels and saw only a blobbed silhouette.
Scaa yelled as the shadows shifted. “Let me free, muleborn twat!”
“Mouthy little cunt, int ya?”
There was a sharp move and Scaa screamed out. Óraithe took a step back toward them. She heard a groan when the scream had passed. Footsteps again, hard on the ground. And a pair behind. The blob in the light at the end of the tunnel crashed to the ground and the only sounds were grunts.
The seconds seemed to crawl toward a stop. Óraithe was too far to run to them now. She could feel a shifting back against the ground away from her. Scaa was hurt. She had to be. Was the guard on her? She felt the walls above her, just barely. Hard stone. She had not worked such a thing. The doubts flushed through her a thousand times between heartbeats. Scaa’s pained, desperate voice broke time back to a furious rush.
“Óraithe!”
The choice was the only one. It was all she could do. She whispered to the night. “I’m sorry.”
A row of spikes shot down from the tunnel and found purchase in something. Óraithe stopped them as abruptly as she could manage and the form slid off of them. Whoever was underneath did not move for a moment. Tears welled in her eyes at the sound of ragged breathing.
“Scaa?”
She called out. Her voice cracked.
A groan. “What happened?”
Óraithe fell to her knees. It was Scaa. “It’s okay now. He’s dead.”
“How? What do…”
Óraithe stood, her knees shaking horribly, the spikes in the tunnel crumbling. “We must go. The others will have heard the yelling.”
Scaa pushed the body off and the weight landed on the ground at Óraithe’s feet. She stood crouched in the tunnel and Óraithe came close.
“Are you alright?” She reached out to touch Scaa’s face and a warm hand pressed her own onto a rough cheek.
“My arm.” Scaa winced. “But it does not matter. As you said…”
“What of the body?”
Scaa groaned again. “What would draw more? A missing guard or a murdered one.”
“We will take him.”
“With my arm—”
“I will.” Óraithe put her hand to Scaa’s shoulder. “Come.”
She shifted the earth under the body and pushed it ahead of them. The walk from the tunnel was quick and when they’d left it, they stuck to the side of the wall. Scaa’s bleeding had slowed when they came away along a dark stretch and pressed out into the desert. The corpse, they left in the open far from the walls. There was enough in the desert that would take care of him, Scaa had said, kicking the body before they left.
The return was much slower. The bleeding had stopped but the wound was deep and Scaa could hardly move her arm. They were taken to Naí the moment Borr saw them come into the camp. She clicked her tongue when she saw the wound. The muscle was cut in half and a ligament was nicked as well. The healer could mend it but the arm would be stiff to the point of disuse for a week or more.
Through it all, Óraithe sat quietly, watching Scaa as she talked with Borr and Naí. She gave only short answers when asked questions. She stared at Scaa’s arm and the floor in turns, lost in a haze. There was no direction to her mind, only a blur of angry, hateful thoughts.
“It will be alright,” Scaa said, reaching out her hand to Óraithe and waiting for it to be taken. “I will be alright.”
Óraithe gave her hand and the rage inside her condensed and grew cold. All of her selfish hate found new reason in the blood-crusted hand she held in her own.
“Borr. I mean to take the Low District tomorrow.”
He looked at her, unsure of what to make of the sentence or why his name had preceded it. The rest stared at her, waiting just the same.
“Gather the best we have. We will open the gates for the rest. And we will kill anything that stands to stop us.” She shook her head toward the camp. “Go.”
Borr looked to Scaa quickly and then nodded. He left them, moving with purpose.
“Are you sure?” Scaa’s face was one of concern.
“I
