Brandon chuckled, giving me just one brief, over-the-shoulder look. “Is he always mouthy like that?”
He was talking to me, and I was stupidly speechless for some reason. Truthfully, I’d thought he didn’t really exist. I’d thought my vision of a dark figure helping us had only been a hallucination, or perhaps my brain’s way of coping with this strange land and its even stranger inhabitants. I’d even thought my instincts were manifesting through flickering delusions, because if I were to assume that he was real, I would’ve had to ask questions I thought I’d never get the answer to—questions Thayen had just raised and which Brandon was actively avoiding.
I couldn’t look away from the blue flames he had for eyes, either. They were the most hypnotic I had ever seen, not unlike Myst’s. Yes, Myst. Her name had slipped from my mind with all this chaos, but now was a good time to mention her. “What are you?” I asked him. “You and Myst and Haldor. What are you?”
“Ah. You’ve met Myst. I told her to stay out of this. She just wouldn’t listen. Stubborn thing, that one. I’d have said she was stupid, but I’d be lying. Myst is truly tenacious, which can sometimes be confused with utter stupidity, since only an idiot would stay in this place after everything she has seen and heard. Then again, leaving isn’t an option for her, so…”
“Keep talking in riddles like we have any clue!” Soph snapped. “Tell us about this place! We deserve to know who it is that’s trying to kill us, at least!”
Brandon refused, pointing straight ahead. “We’ll reach the armory soon. Get ready for an infiltration. It will likely be guarded on all sides and at every access point.”
Jericho and Dafne had shifted back into their humanoid forms. They only had two minutes’ worth of pause to dress up as soon as we put some distance between us and Haldor. Soph had snatched some clothes from the cabin along with the bag on her shoulder—the shirts and pants, though old and dusty, had come in handy for both dragons. Sure, Jericho’s were a little tight and Dafne’s were hilariously oversized, but it was better than running the remaining half-mile buck-naked. We couldn’t risk exposure with two full dragons in tow.
“I could just burn you until you speak the truth,” the fae dragon muttered, his eyes shooting daggers at Brandon. The stranger wasn’t impressed.
“Maybe save your fire to make light and keep Haldor and the shadow hounds away.”
Jericho would’ve liked to respond to that, but Brandon was right. We needed to conserve every ounce of strength and energy we had left, considering we had yet to expose the mystery of this island and those who occupied it—clones and blue-fire-eyed individuals alike. The Great Dome rose ahead, and we slowed down, taking cover beneath umbrella-like shrubs that sprawled across the forest floor, most of them concentrated around the bases of redwoods.
Brandon brought an index finger to his lips as he looked back at us, though we already knew to be quiet. For about five minutes, we studied the area ahead. The Great Dome was currently occupied. I had counted about eight clones in there, but I didn’t know who they were. I’d only seen their silhouettes through the frosted glass panes. There was one ability I’d failed to develop growing up as a half-sentry. Sure, my emotion reading was abysmal, but I had absolutely no true sight ability.
“Five hundred yards north of the Dome,” Thayen whispered. “The armory.”
“You’re leading us there, but… do you know what we’ll find in there?” I asked Brandon. He seemed amused, as if I’d asked the silliest question.
“The clones are designed to imitate you. To fool you. In order for that to happen, they were given a fake Shade with all the amenities—the armory included. They need weapons here too, though for different reasons,” Brandon muttered. At least we’d not been wrong about the motherlode of supplies we’d been hoping to reach.
Jericho scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “Yeah? Then explain the disks and the weird cube sound-bombs and the black mist canisters they used against us. Those served a purpose, and they’re not made with our magic or tech.”
“Those are proprietary instruments,” Brandon replied, obviously not caring much for the subject. “Your stuff has been copied and stored in the armory, should they require it. Pulverizer weapons, healing magic, charmed armor and protection equipment, invisibility pellets, and garnet glasses. Swords and knives, bows and crossbows, hatchets and axes, shields and other warfare paraphernalia that you folks like to use to murder one another—it’s all been replicated.”
There it was. Disdain for our kind. It was blatant and deliberately expressed as such. Brandon wanted us to know that he didn’t like us. Still, it begged the question once again. “I don’t understand… Why did you choose to help us?” I asked, offering a faint smile. “Don’t get me wrong—we are certainly grateful for the assistance. Twice you’ve guided us to shelter, and now to the armory we’ve been trying so hard to reach. We just want to know why. You owe us nothing, so—”
“Damn right,” he cut me off. “Just take the helping hand, half-Daughter. It’s the best I can do, considering the nightmare this whole place has turned into. Later, you should also remember the following statement: I did not choose to be here. I have no allegiance but to my liege beyond this realm. I serve no one here.”
Thayen frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’ll probably see each other again, but under different circumstances,” Brandon replied. “Just try to get yourselves out of here as fast as you can. The clones will show you no mercy. Haldor is still behind you, thirsting for your lives. This is no place for a handful of Shadian pups.”
I wanted to respond, but the shadows swallowed him whole, and he became black as night, his features gone except for the haunting blue fires in his eyes. A split second later, he dissipated like a thick mist against the rocky ocean shores, scattering away from us. We were on our own again, breathless and astonished by the rollercoaster our second day in this alternative Shade had turned out to be.
“Typical,” Dafne grumbled, crouched low beneath a giant leaf with oval holes and a thick purplish stem. “They come in, rock our worlds, then leave us wanting more. So uncool.”
“I am truly at a loss for words,” I whispered, looking at Thayen.
He sighed deeply, seeming resigned. “At least we got their names. We know Myst needs light, while Haldor and Brandon need darkness.”
“And almost everybody here wants us dead. There’s also that,” Soph quipped, making Jericho snort in amusement.
Thayen’s lips stretched into a smile. It faded as he raised his head above the shrubbery and glanced ahead. About forty yards stood between us and the Great Dome, with its gilded steel frame and expansive glass panels. The meeting taking place in there was supposed to be private, and the panels had been obscured with a frosted white effect, revealing only the silhouettes I’d counted and the delicate azure glow of a screen mounted on the wall inside. “So, eight clones in there. We might find more around the Dome. Notice the absence of a stone portal,” he whispered.
“They don’t need it. They have their shimmering access points,” Jericho reminded us. “Quick question, just to double-check—in case we do come upon one of their portals, do we go back home, or do we keep investigating?”