VIENDA GAOL | ONE HOUSE PAST MIDNIGHT
The cold season was well on its way.
Serro rubbed his hands absentmindedly as he watched the thin wind whip around the trees in the forgotten field not so far from the city itself. It was already cold for autumn; the days had been colder each year, it seemed. When he had been a boy, it was possible to stay warm from Intas through half of Dentis; now, he was cold year-round. Maybe it was his time in the AAF. Maybe it was the strain on his heart as the galdori took more and more from him.
Maybe he was just old.
He glanced behind him to where a coal-black aeroship lurked in the half-darkness, ready to embark on her first clandestine flight, and possibly her last. The Crow, she was called, a favor from the fiery red haired golly that sat behind the controls waiting for the rest of the crew. Jon didn’t trust them, not the golly Resistance members, not completely…but they had their uses.
His fingers sought out the flask at his hip, taking a deep sip and coughing as the wind picked up. Would they come? The faces of Ian, of Merinda, of Huna—his friends and his companions—swinging in the early morning of Dentis only days before haunted his every moment. Their purple bulging faces and blank eyes burned into the back of his eyelids. Merinda’s desperate struggles as she slowly asphyxiated. Before they hung, they’d looked for him, and he couldn’t bring himself to let them see him.
They trusted him, they trusted the Resistance, and they’d failed.
“Fucking Azmus.” He muttered to himself, taking another swig and putting the flask away, sniffing and huddling himself closer under his cloak, looking around for the others. Ginny was coming, he knew that, and she’d supposedly collected Artful and a new fellow along the way. A mugrobi lad that she’d said could probably drag his own wagon if his kenser keeled over and died. He wasn’t sure of anyone else, but all hands were welcome this night.
They needed to get Stu.
Ginny stormed her way along the tunnel under the city, her small face a hard mask of anger.
“Hurry up ye lot. It’s this way.” She snapped, hands shoved deep in a coat that clearly was too big for her, Stu’s coat. The young witch had collected the folks from the Stag and led them through the catacombs towards the outskirts of Vienda, towards where Serro had told her to meet them. The big mug, she’d nabbed him earlier, impressed by his brick-wall build. They needed muscle, and he was muscle. What she hadn’t done perhaps, is told him the full story as to what they were doing or where they were going.
Not that it mattered. They had Stu. The clockstopping, kenser licking, chroveshit erseholes had Stu. And by the Gods, they were going to get him out. Fire and flames would not stop her, nothing would. They were getting Stu, tonight.
“Ent sure what the Boss has in plan, but keep y’guns handy Arty.” Her green eyes turned back to him with a scowl.
“Y’can shoot them as well as make ‘em oes?”