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  “We will overpower them and glean information.” Tor continued pacing. “We will not let them continue their charade as ghosts or goblins haunting the city tunnels.”

  This time not a word was uttered.

  “Load up and return to formation.”

  The men broke ranks and loaded their packs with lanterns and rations. Each grabbed a dagger and a cross sword.

  Seeing the men back in formation brought a thin smile to Tor’s face. “Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.” A taller, heavier set soldier stepped forward.

  Captain Tor handed him a map. “You will command two of the teams. You are to enter this hatch and send your other team, there.” The captain gestured at markers on the paper.

  “Yes, sir.” The man saluted.

  “Three days from now, you will report back to headquarters with as much information as possible. If we link up underground, we’ll coordinate from there. Otherwise, return to the armory.”

  The captain liked to dictate his orders with precision. It was the best way to avoid mishaps. He shifted his focus to the whole company.

  “There is one thing I want to make clear. Some of the colonels think that we won't discover much. That's not going to happen. We will make sure nothing remains to be done.” Tor clenched his hands behind his back. “No more resistance from these marauders, got it?” His iron jaw protruded as he spoke.

  “Yes, sir!” All fifteen soldiers chimed in unison.

  “Move out!”

  The men marched out of the armory where the lieutenant’s two units peeled off and headed east. Captain Tor's two units continued forward.

  “Sergeant, take your unit and head for this hatch.” The captain pointed at the map and then gestured at the winding street to the right laced with lazy two-story buildings. “Enter and proceed with your orders.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, snapping a salute. He and three others broke away and moved out of site.

  The captain and his unit pressed on, two by two. There was no idle chitchat. Instead, everyone remained focused, in lockstep.

  They walked fifteen blocks from the palace’s armory through the city. These rough-hewn buildings were slumped, as if the walls of the city sighed. The palace demanded nice, crisp lines. Seasoned officers could almost glean how far they were from the palace based on the surrounding structures.

  The few times they passed residents, the locals moved out of the way without a word. Some crossed to the other side of the street. No eye contact, no words. This filled Tor with a calmness rooted in the knowledge of who was in control.

  Another ten minutes and his unit arrived at a deserted alley. His attention returned to the mission at hand as he waved at one of his soldiers to open the hatch.

  The man tugged to no avail. Scrunching his eyebrows, he spun the wheel.

  Click.

  The soldier pulled it open.

  Tor stared into the black emptiness. Nothing. Drawing his dagger, he climbed down the ladder.

  The rest followed.

  The air was a bit stagnant, though the moisture of the alley sunk into the tunnel and small puddles hugged the ladder.

  The tunnel ran in two directions. Two men faced each direction, poised with hands on the hilt of their weapons.

  “All right, we are going to head—”

  Clump!

  Tor’s eyes shot up.

  The hatch had closed by itself. Bits of light leaked at the edges.

  Twisting his lip, he drew out his lantern and lit it, waving at the others to do the same.

  “Soldier, open that hatch back up.” Tor pointed at the one nearest the ladder.

  The man climbed and attempted to open it, but it didn’t budge. Holding his lantern closer illuminated three dials. He spun them several times and tried turning the handle, but it didn't work.

  The captain's stomach tensed up, but he fought to shake off that feeling. There had to be another way.

  “Attention. We are proceeding as planned. The Undergrounders have traveled this way many times, and so shall we. Private, log every turn. If you need us to stop so you can catch up, signal it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “With luck, it won't take us long to find some clues as to their whereabouts.” The captain poured out his stern command voice. It was a natural instinct borne out of years of command.

  Not only did it put his men into action, it shielded the flutter that had just planted itself in his core. That was something to avoid sharing with his troops, at all costs.

  As the captain’s men combed through the tunnels, the private in the back scribbled notes. The continuous scratching eased the tension in Tor’s gut.

  Though, occasional creaking sounds reverberating through the tunnels counteracted such comfort.

  “Sir, what is that . . . sound?”

  “Not sure. Echoes from others in the tunnels?”

  The moment he said that, the squeal of metal dragging on metal surrounded them.

  Everyone froze.

  Tor’s hand shifted to the hilt of his cross sword as the scraping of the other men’s hands performing the same gesture filled his ears.

  All eyes locked on him.

  Tor tilted his head from side to side, straining to hear a hint of direction. Things were a hair stronger to the right, so he stepped that way.

  The others followed.

  He wasn’t running from danger. No, he would challenge it.

  Colonel Braknow crossed the compound, his feet scraping the ground. The copied note tucked in his inner pocket weighed him down.

  Putting it to maximum use would require careful thinking. There was no value in making a brash move and getting caught. Especially with his codename in it. The thought of Melicose’s people tracing every piece of intelligence he'd shared throughout the region over the past four months made him shudder on the inside.

  As he turned a corner, the chatter of soldiers ahead pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Colonel.” The first soldier saluted.

  “As you were. How were today’s drills?” The sweat and dust along with loose jackets were an easy give away.

  “Wiped out, sir. But it was good. Smithy insisted he could best me with his cross sweep. And as always, he was wrong.” The man jeered.

  The others laughed, except the one holding a thin smile, twisting his face. “You got lucky. Take note, that move won’t work next time. I promise.”

  They slapped each other on the back.

  “All right, gentlemen. I presume you’re coming off duty, so have a good evening.”

  “Yes, sir.” They all saluted as the colonel pressed on.

  Lucky. Note. Promise.

  Three key words he wasn’t looking for. Braknow gulped at the coded instructions to execute a dead drop pickup. Now. Or at least as fast as possible without detection. There was no time to secure the note jostling in his inner pocket.

  Braknow slipped out of the crisply maintained compound on the south side.

  “Evening, sir.” The officer guarding the entrance saluted.

  The colonel gave a quick response and veered left instead of right, moving along the empty sidewalk. At this hour, most of the traffic had died down. Preferable.

  Three weeks. That’s how long it'd been since he’d visited the drop site. Sweat beaded up on his palms.

  Years of combat experience had dulled him of panic and nervousness. Or so he thought. He had seen men die in the most horrific ways. Yet the chances that he might be trailed, followed, and discovered sunk in his gut like he was some sort of amateur.

  He shook his head. That’s exactly what he was.

  An amateur.

  Two years ago, Braknow was a devoted soldier who had joined a noble cause, along with hundreds of others. A captain who scoffed at the corruption accumulating in the military and the nobility. The rallying cry of Melicose in the hinterland outside of Kelmar had touched his soul. In the best light, the king was a step away from some military hack taking over.


  But that was long ago. Ever since Melicose swept the palace, his promises wore thin. He cleaned out corrupt leaders but didn’t stop there. Certain loyal officers sympathetic to this new populism disappeared—friends that shared his ideals. Careful digging revealed rumors of petty insults lodged against Melicose’s inner circle.

  Braknow’s opinion fell fast. A man that had slain countless soldiers during an invasion of this corrupted city-state betrayed that same cause eighteen months later when he made his first contact with the resistance.

  Focusing on the task at hand, the colonel crossed several blocks before spotting the general market. At this hour, it was empty. Bits of trash cluttered the streets. A handful of locked up stands. Things were never as clean and tidy as the palace they had overtaken.

  Braknow slid to the far end near a fence enclosing a large warehouse, one that had yet to collapse under its own stench of rot. Walking along the perimeter, he passed several benches and sat at the fourth, his hands reaching under the worn seat and feeling around.

  Nothing.

  The colonel wrinkled his nose before scanning the benches, silently counting. This was the right one. He stood and turned, bending over to check. Sure enough, it was on the ground.

  Grabbing it, he stuffed it into his pocket and left the area. His sweaty palms dried as he choked back his concerns. That wasn't so hard, right?

  Entering his home, Braknow locked the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

  The differences between here and that disgusting warehouse sector were stark. He couldn’t argue with the finer quarters that were supplied when the military seized this district. Everything close to their military base was of higher quality. The parts of Kelmar that were farthest had fallen into the worst state of disrepair.

  Chasing such woolgathering aside, the colonel sunk into the chair by the cold fireplace as his hand plunged into his pocket. Braknow pulled out the dead drop note—a piece of paper folded and sealed. The mark, he didn’t recognize.

  A yawn escaped. He might be too tired to hold it by candle and read. Leaning back into the corner of his chair, he licked his lips as he slid it back into his pockets, his hands comfortably touching the one report. He could afford a catnap.

  His eyes shot open as he sat up, unsure how much, if any, time had elapsed. Where was that copied report? His tired fingers had slipped the new report back into his pockets and not missed the other one.

  Jumping to his feet, Braknow ran his fingers through every pocket.

  Nothing.

  He checked his inner pocket two more times. Again, nothing. Pulling off his shirt and turning it inside out was of no help. As was checking the chair.

  His eyes traced back to the door, realizing he had lost the critical report somewhere between the compound and here.

  Knock! Knock!

  “Colonel Braknow, Sergeant Rivers here.”

  Slipping his shirt back on, Braknow opened the door. “Yes?”

  “This was dropped off. Appears to be an order meant for you, but it was found somewhere outside the compound.” His hand stretched out, holding the sealed orders.

  The colonel grabbed them, his eyes glancing at the cover. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  “I’m fine, Sergeant. Who found this?”

  “No idea. The watch officer received it and handed it to me. I thought it more important it be brought to you.”

  “Fine work. Dismissed.”

  The soldier left.

  Braknow’s eyes scanned the street. Any onlookers? Seeing nothing, he closed the door and fell back onto his chair. With the wave of panic subsiding, he looked more closely. There were a couple scratches, but the seal was still intact. He put it back in his inner shirt pocket.

  Turning his attention to the package he had picked up, Braknow broke the seal and opened it.

  Melicose has caught a spy attempting to send intelligence to enemies in the north. By interrogation, the spy revealed himself as an agent of the Undergrounders. Risk of reprisal, imminent!

  Not good. Proof of the Undergrounders’ involvement could turn Melicose’s razor sharp military eye back to Kelmar. Having them routed out would crush any lingering chance of a resistance.

  Braknow went to his secretary desk and penned a letter explaining the details he had. Some of the information in the report he had copied earlier was pertinent.

  Then he paused. How could he get this note sent in time? Because it had to be sealed with his signet, being careful would be key. Having the copied report returned back had been lucky. A note with his mark found in the tunnels wouldn’t have the same outcome.

  Time was of the essence, but Braknow feared going out tonight to relay it through his channels. If he or one of his contacts were spotted, it might add up as a bit too coincidental. No, better to wait until morning. That should reduce suspicions.

  He leaned back in his chair. It was well past midnight, but he couldn’t sleep. Strange, given he had almost drifted off earlier. It was the note, hanging in his pocket like a lead weight.

  The path Snitch set out on was different than the way they’d arrived. It wouldn’t be easy. There were more twists and turns in the tunnels than on their way up, but it should be a lot faster.

  She prayed Gavin wouldn’t pepper her with questions. When the man trusted her to do her job, it was gratifying.

  A strong wind blew through the city.

  Snitch grasped the edges of her cloak as she eyed Gavin scanning the streets. What was going through his mind? Whatever it was, Terrell must be at the center of it.

  It didn’t take much to discern that running into a guard patrol would be fatal. Based on the concern in his voice, Snitch was set to avoid meeting anyone and had picked out the perfect route.

  “Snitch, I haven't seen this area in a long time. At least, not from any of our missions.”

  Had hiding out in the forest and the tunnels for months dulled Gavin’s city talents? Perhaps. After all, his orders were no longer protecting the people of Kelmar.

  “It's the fastest way I know to access Round Loop while dodging military compounds.” Snitch glanced back with a smile on her face. “Haven’t been to that warehouse much since I joined, so I haven’t used this route for a long time. There never were many opportunities around here anyway.”

  Old, beat up buildings littered the streets. There hadn't been a single pub since they had departed, hence fewer people who lived in the area.

  A middle-aged man with a dirty shirt and scuffed pants sat on the stoop of his building, chewing on a loaf of bread. He never made eye contact.

  Snitch crossed the street away from the man.

  Gavin followed, pulling Terrell along.

  A thin smile graced her face as she sensed Gavin’s satisfaction at avoiding another conversation.

  A woman next to the man swept the steps and shouted, “Johnny! Katherine! Do that again, and I’ll hang you up by your ears!”

  Snitch snickered inside. Poor as this family appeared, their kids wouldn’t be out on the streets doing jobs.

  A couple blocks later, she spotted two teenagers on the sidewalk. One stood, the other sat. They both glared right at her as if they could see straight through and behind. They reminded her of the rabble she hung out with that would pilfer apples from vendors.

  The teenagers stared at her, then toward the sun. One held up her hand. That old trick of gauging the amount of daylight left by the number of fingers was all too familiar.

  At the end of the block, things veered left, but Snitch moved right.

  “What are you doing? That’s nothing but a small alley.”

  Terrell had kept quiet most of the way. Based on past experience, that was about to change.

  “Yeah?” A grin filled Snitch’s face.

  She slipped through a small opening, splitting off from Gavin and Terrell. Reaching into her pocket, she flipped on her darklight.

  A moment later, metal weaponry scraped the wa
lls followed by the rustle of clothing.

  “I can't see anything!” Terrell’s calm voice was replaced with a loud, panicked one. His noisy stride shortened into small, clattering steps.

  Reaching down, Snitch opened a hatch and slid down the damp ladder. The stale air in the tunnel greeted her like an old friend.

  “Be quiet,” Gavin whispered. Soft, but not soft enough.

  Those same noisy feet clanged onto the first rung of the descending ladder.

  “Go down.”

  Terrell complied with Gavin close behind.

  The hinges creaked as the hatch slammed shut. Gears rotated followed by clicks.

  Snitch shut off her darklight.

  “What was that?” Terrell shrieked. “I couldn't see anything. And now, I can.” He pivoted in all directions as his breathing sped up. “Wait—are we in the tunnels?”

  “We have ways of disappearing,” Snitch said with a smile. “It's critical when being chased by Melicose’s men. We don't often get to initiate new members like this.”

  Gavin put his hands on Terrell’s shoulders. “Relax. You’re fine. We know this area.”

  Terrell’s breathing eased.

  This was something Snitch was never good at. Life had thrown her into the deep end of the lake, turned, and never looked back. Though not excited about babying a new initiate, Terrell may be worth it. She sighed and hunched down, waiting for Gavin to finish.

  “It's best if people don't see us enter or exit the tunnels. Safer for everyone.” Gavin pointed at Snitch. “Stick close to her, and you’ll be safe, okay?”

  Terrell opened his mouth but closed it again. Furrowing his eyebrows, the man waved at Snitch.

  Gavin nodded. “Good. I’ll follow. Don't want you to get lost on the way.”

  With the corners or her mouth turned upward, Snitch stood and proceeded forward.

  Near the hatch, things were easy to see with bits of daylight creeping through the cracks. Fifty feet of walking, and everything turned into a fuzzy outline. A hundred feet more, nothing.

  Terrell's stumbling feet continued to fill Snitch’s ears.

  “How do you move around when it’s pitch black? Do your eyes ever adjust?” The pitch of Terrell’s voice rose.