Unwritten, page 29
The group divided, Jane taking Emma and her satchel with her. Beatrix and William waited in the shadows until they heard the first explosion. Then they sprinted out, leaving the gallery’s safety and traversing the courtyard to cut to the marina.
They were a mere fifty feet from the water when they bumped into her. The figure who intercepted them appeared as startled as they were.
“Where are you going?”
“Becca?” Beatrix identified the voice even when she couldn’t make out her features.
“You’re running away!” Becca seemed too incredulous to avoid gaping. “No! You can’t leave! You’re a criminal come to destroy us. They told us.”
“Becca.” This was William. He used a calm but threatening tone that Beatrix hadn’t heard before. “Move aside.”
“I won’t.” Becca gritted her teeth. “They told us everything. That you’re a murderer’s daughter. The Charmancer’s helper. You burn books to get strong. I’ve signed the petition to put you to death. I never liked you, Beatrix. You’re not one of us, and I knew there was something weird about you from the start. You’re a freak.” And without warning, she yelled.
The beam from the lookout post woke up.
Strong as the sun, the spotlight dawned an artificial day around them, and exposed, William and Beatrix bolted toward the ocean. They were fast. Her feet blurred as her heels skimmed the stone, lungs ablaze. But they never had a chance. They were surrounded before they’d reached the edge of the playing fields.
And when the red and blue clothed officials circled them, William took her hand in his. She saw him press something in his pocket and felt relief. At least the others would be alerted. They could leave without them.
Beatrix had never paid attention to the Guard before. They were ever-present and unobtrusive. Unlike the Librarian’s Sentries, who were plain-clothed and easy to distract, the Council Guard gathered around them, uniformed and organized.
There were about fifty of them, positioned in concentric circles, with the last ring atop hovering boards. All their faces were alike: expressionless, homogenous, repetitive.
Clones, she thought, or androids.
None of them moved.
They were waiting.
He came on horseback. Maybe because he’d been an inquisitor in a technology-deprived land, and he enjoyed the advantage height gave him. “I predicted you’d betray us, Beatrix Alba. Now you have.”
She would have recognized him anywhere, no matter how many conical hoods he wore. “I haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“Grab her,” the Chairman of the council croaked.
The Guard moved as one.
Beatrix could never get straight what happened next. She remembered calling on her Furie, although with her mangled hands, the jets of power poured down in a wasteful puddle.
She heard William’s weapon discharge.
“Down,” he screamed. As she crouched, red light flashed, followed by the rumbling the earth makes when it cracks. Out of nowhere, the trees that lined the scenic boardwalk lifted and swung forth, convulsing in a violent twister. The earth opened in zigzags, eating up a whole portion of grass and rock into a sinkhole. Around them, the guards struggled for balance. The air became still, charged and expectant.
Fire came next. A huge flamethrower tongue arched over her head and threatened to swallow her. His arm lassoing her waist, William hurled her behind him onto a humming beast, a flying motorcycle-like vehicle trimmed with neon strip lights.
The air sparked red and white from the nearby explosions and scorched Beatrix’s eyelashes. Cold salt hit her cheeks as they sped toward the beach. Hugging William’s back, she turned to look. Behind them, the Chairman’s horse squirmed sideways on the ground, while the guards struggled to regroup, tangled in a giant fishnet. Some were already in pursuit, but William’s light-cycle bolted too far ahead.
“Change of plans,” he said, and at first, Beatrix thought he was talking to her.
“Copy that. Plan B it is.” Jane’s response buzzed through his comm device. “See you on the ship.”
34
WILLIAM
The projectiles flew so close Beatrix’s ears burned with their whooshing. She nearly fell off the light-cycle and into the ocean as William maneuvered to avoid them, their ride listing one way and then the other, while the waves below sprayed them.
From the opposite direction, a new barrage began. The council had sent aircraft. And speedboats. And swarms of weird insects that could be robotic or not.
“Pick one,” William said. “We won’t be able to outfly them for long.”
Beatrix blinked through the water that thrashed her. Rain came down in continuous sheets.
“Weathervanes,” Jane had warned. “The top of the line in magical defense at the service of the council.”
“Pick a ship. Quick,” William insisted.
Straining toward the darkness of the horizon, Beatrix saw them. Five, six, seven. She counted eight vessels. Eight perfect replicas of the pirate ship. All of them too far to make out well. All of them beckoning to safety. Only one telling the truth.
Trelius’s decoys.
They were meant to fool the council. On this side of the illusion, they were confusing Beatrix too. Fear dug sharp nails into her heart. But like they had many times before, at the direst moments, stories came to her aid. From across space and time, the borrowed words guided her. “After all, the true seeing is within,” the whispers reminded her, and so she shut her eyes, expecting her heart to see what she could not. Aestrer’s blue haze filled her mind, and she opened them with understanding. The bike still swerving, she managed to pull the Alicorn from her pouch and let just enough rainwater fill it to take a sip. Like glasses curing double vision, all ships faded into one.
“There.” She pointed in the distance, and William nodded, veering left.
But as they recovered from the turn, a swarm of buzzing scouts caught up with them. Even above the cries of the storm, their electronic, whirring noises unnerved her as they crashed like kamikazes against William’s shield and blackened it. She knew more were coming. Now that they’d found them, they would send back their coordinates to the Guard.
“Do you trust me?” William asked close to her ear.
She didn’t get to answer yes.
Of course.
Always.
With a crack less theatrical than its significance, William’s shield gave out. The insects plunged toward them, weapons firing.
They didn’t reach them.
As if a monstrous beast had awoken underneath the ocean, the surface of the water swelled up. It grew into an arch the size of two skyscrapers and curled over them. The swarm scrambled, trying to fly out of its reach, while William urged the cycle up and over the crest of the wave.
“Let go,” Beatrix heard him say, grabbing her hand at the same time that the wave collapsed to the ocean, swallowing both the bots and the plummeting vehicle.
Darkness and silence took over as they dropped.
She hit the raft back first, the inflatable rubber dinghy rocking and drenching her. William landed next to her, and when he stretched his arm to pull her close and share a sigh of relief, she hid in the crook of his neck.
The ocean churned around them, the current taking them away fast and at its whim, and soon the momentary quiet evaporated. Around them, the bursts of the council’s fire lit the night. Aware they’d lost them, the Guard had doubled down on the attack.
Sitting up, William conjured a flimsy film that enclosed the raft in a transparent dome. “We’re farther and farther from the bot’s coordinates, so this should help obscure us while they search. It muffles sound but doesn’t mute it. So we ought to be quiet.” He sucked in a breath, and if it weren’t out of character, she would have guessed he felt unsure. “I apologize about the cycle and making you jump like that. I couldn’t risk them spotting the real ship once the swarm found us, especially after Jane and Trelius worked so hard on the mirages to create the decoys. You did a great job figuring out the right ship. I messed it up.”
“You didn’t. Not really.” Beatrix smiled, trying despite everything to stay positive. To fight the despair gnawing at the hem of her consciousness that would swallow her whole if she let it. “You saved us and made us a raft.”
“I barely conjured it in time.” William rubbed his forehead, pressing with three fingers across it as if it ached.
“Who’s bad at taking compliments now? Admit it. We’re a good team.”
He looked at her, stared hard, and she returned his gaze, unflinching.
“Yeah, we are.” The barest of curves lifted the corner of his lips and Beatrix relaxed. The lapping of the ocean created a rhythmic sound against the dingy, like the hand of a clock ticking time.
“We’re sort of stuck here,” he said. “Have to wait until the council’s given up.”
“How long?”
“A while.”
Beatrix rolled toward the middle of the raft. It was a small rubber float, no larger than a full bed, and yet under their see-through dome, it gave her an unreal sense of safety. William plucked his comm crystal out of his soaked coat and tapped on it. Soon he lay back next to her, exhausted.
The outside world receded, the sounds of the attack becoming white noise, the way busy city streets turn into lullabies. They remained in that version of silence for countless minutes.
“I’m sorry you had to use your power.” It hadn’t occurred to her until now all he’d put on the line to help them escape. It couldn’t have been an easy decision.
William turned to her, his urgent, always too-demanding gaze piercing. Instead of a shiver, a thrill ran through Beatrix. Electricity crackled on her skin, which was no Furie and no trick of the council, but magical nonetheless.
Beyond the conjured dome barrier, the intersecting search beams shaped trestles across the sky.
“I’m not sorry. I couldn’t deal if anything happened to you.” This voice. This one she’d only dreamt of. “I don’t want to fight it.”
Of all the moments he could have picked, William chose that one. His palms cradled her face, and Beatrix smelled the mix of his scent and the after-magic on his fingers when he bent his head her way.
Everything in her tensed, both expectant and running at high speed.
When he kissed her, it wasn’t foreign, but a rousing current mixed with the familiar, welcome sense of arriving. She felt him shake, his breath coming out as ragged as hers. Her blood boiled and pumped in a frenzy as she held onto him, anchored by his arms.
Time disappeared—with the stubborn unreality of the Zweeshen multiplied a million times. The sounds of war outside their flimsy refuge faded to nothing.
If she were able to see herself from above, like someone might from the sickened moon in the sky, Beatrix might have been tempted to roll her eyes. She would have puffed and wondered why they would have picked this very moment. Why, of all times, they’d be kissing now, in the middle of a fight that wasn’t over, on a sticky rubber dinghy that bobbed like a useless peanut shell.
In real life, no one would dare wonder.
“At last!”
Beatrix shook awake and lifted her head to discover Emma. William was maneuvering an outboard motor attached to the raft.
“Thank the muses!” the girl shouted from above, aboard an enormous ship of which Beatrix only saw a barnacled hull. “We thought you were at the bottom of the sea.”
The raft bobbed when Trelius dropped a primitive knotted ladder.
“They got our message,” William said, anticipating the question at the tip of Beatrix’s tongue. “Once they charted our location, they were able to tow us.”
“And I was asleep through that?”
“We both were. A slumber spell-bomb found us, I suspect. Come on, I’ll give you a leg up.”
Fighting the rocking, she hooked her forearm to hang onto the swaying ladder. Her fingers numb, she struggled to climb.
Emma waved, urging her to hurry.
Judging by the sounds in the distance, the battle raged still.
As if to underscore that thought, an explosion reached the ship, driving a cannonball into the hull. Water gushed in while the crew’s screams mixed with the whistling from the guided missiles that came next.
The ladder dangling, Beatrix managed to reach the top, where two pairs of hands lifted her over the railing. Jane draped a blanket over her shoulders. Only then did Beatrix realize how frozen she was. The rain the council had conjured earlier had eased, but her hair dripped in long, icy rivers.
They pulled William up next, and her heart leapt when he surveyed the deck looking for her, their eyes meeting for an instant before he joined Trelius on the stern.
“Get ready for the geo-time jump,” Jane shouted, and the crew ran to their posts.
Beatrix had forgotten about the rest of the escape plan, that their success depended on creating a space-time fold to get away from the council.
Across the deck, William worked with Trelius to conjure the last of the tethers to keep them safe during the jump.
“How I wish I were like Neradola.” Emma pointed to the bow, where the ghost was gliding to her spot. “To be half ghost and half fairy and even know how to navigate. Some taelimns have all the luck.” Then she remembered to be kind. “It’s a comfort that she’ll guide us.”
Neradola positioned herself atop the bowsprit, leaning out, the sleeves of her dress waving like wings. Amidst the feverish activity, she stood unmoving, so still she could pass for the figurehead of an old Norse ship.
“Take cover,” Jane said, and grabbing Emma, Beatrix settled them into a cramped nook under the captain’s cabin. They knelt there, their hands tight around a set of wooden pegs used to hold lanterns.
“Now!” someone yelled, the words followed by a burst of light bright enough to render them blind. Beatrix’s stomach twisted from the acceleration as the ship and everyone on it lurched forward. They were tossed ahead into a centrifuge that seemed to tear every particle of them in a different direction.
For a moment, she thought they’d succeeded.
Before the volcano-catapults reached them, and the air caught on fire.
35
PIRATES
After the fact, the pirates argued the ship’s stealth tactics had allowed them to escape unscathed.
“We faded into the sky,” one bragged.
Based on Beatrix’s experience, the assertion was only half-true. If the sky were black, sure, they could disappear in it, but if the Guard called on their wizard weathervanes to fake a sun—as they had—not so much.
They ended up taking a withering attack head-on. Trelius’s shield held most of the magic offensive and averted the storm-makers, while William and Jane worked the leap-drive to retry the jump.
It took four attempts.
When it happened, the leap tore Beatrix apart as if her body had been placed in a blender. Every atom hurt, and for a second, after the sense of nausea cleared, everyone looked at each other, flabbergasted. The deck, half-afire and half-crushed by the stones from the trebuchets, resembled the scene of a forgotten wreckage.
Beatrix braced herself for another barrage.
Instead, silence. No sounds from bots or magical missiles, no cannonballs or laser firethrowers. They were sailing a sea so calm the moon made a round impression on it.
The pirates were the first to erupt in celebration. Joyous, curse-filled yells spiced the night. Beatrix found William’s stare across the deck. She thought Zweeshen time might be on her side for once because he cut the distance that separated them in a second and three strides.
Soon after, Jane accompanied Beatrix to the guest quarters, where she’d been assigned a cabin the size of a matchbox. Although Beatrix was wet and cold, adrenaline still rushed through her veins.
“That was some jump.” The unnatural shine in Jane’s pupils revealed that she, too, was drunk on their victory escaping the Zweeshen.
Some jump indeed.
Beatrix smiled, the sweetness of victory on her tongue. She was still in a good mood when much later, William came to see her as promised. Beatrix opened her cabin door before he knocked.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice so heavy with tiredness the words mumbled into a drawl.
“You’re exhausted.” His eyes were sunken into the sockets, the skin around them purple.
“Long day.” He tried to smile, but even that seemed too much effort.
“No talk. Just stay.”
“Beatrix, I—” He walked in and grabbed her hands. “No, don’t try to stop me. I have to say this. I was wrong to push you away before. I’m sorry.”
Beatrix didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. He could barely hold himself up. But maybe he needed it.
“What changed your mind?” she asked.
“You did. You said that you would be safer and we would be stronger together. And you were right. I won't make the mistake of doubting us again. For however long you want me, you have me.”
Beatrix smiled slowly. Her finger traced a path across his cheek to his mouth. “I won't stop wanting you.”
His kiss was sweet and slow, and it removed the need for more words.
William had fallen asleep soon after, within moments of lying down, his boots still on his feet. Beatrix watched his chest lift and drop for a while until she couldn’t defeat the exhaustion of that unending day either.
Staring out to the ocean the morning after the jump, Beatrix’s eyes burned, irritated by the brine, and for the briefest of instants she wondered what it would feel like to fall into this water. In the faint light, it looked as uninviting as a tub full of ink.
William strode to her side in silence, and although she sensed his arrival, she didn’t acknowledge him. Having caught his expression before leaving the cabin, she could guess what came next. Better not talk about it.
“We need to discuss what I told you during the ball. We can’t keep avoiding it.”
