Suddenly I wish for Cameron and her tool belt. But she is far away, out of danger with her brother back in Piedmont. I bite my lip, brain buzzing. This is a blatant trap, an easy one, leaving us vulnerable on the mountainside. Or just stuck here, while the raiders wreak havoc on the towns below, if not the city behind us.
Tiberias is thinking the same thing. He hastens to the edge of the road, looking down into the darkness. “Can you radio your settlements? They need to be warned.”
“Ahead of you,” Davidson barks back. He crouches over one of the wounded soldiers, holding his arm while a healer works at the man’s broken leg. At the premier’s side, an officer speaks rapidly into her communications gear.
Tiberias frowns, turning from the cliff back to the carnage. “And send word back to the city. Call out a second detachment. Dropjets if they can get here in time.”
Davidson barely nods. I get the feeling he’s already done that too, but he holds his tongue, keeping his focus on the soldier beneath him. Healers, half a dozen or so, work diligently down the line, tending to anyone injured in the massive wreck.
“What about us? We can’t stay up here for long.” I slide off my vehicle, landing gently. It feels better to be on solid ground. “Something tipped that transport.”
Still on the roof, Tyton braces his hands on his hips. He looks at the zagging road above, investigating the otherwise empty spot the first transport fell from. “Could be a small-charge mine. Detonated at the right moment, it could flip a vehicle.”
“Too clean,” Tiberias growls. He paces along the road, his entire body on edge. His Lerolan guards follow him a little too closely, almost catching his heels. “Coordinated. Someone’s up here with us. We need to get down before they strike again. We’re sitting ducks.”
“Sitting ducks on the edge of a cliff,” Evangeline adds. She kicks at her own transport in frustration, putting a solid dent in the already crumpled front. “We can get the working transports up front. Load them as much as we can.”
Tiberias shakes his head. “It’s not enough.”
“It’s something,” I snap at him.
“We’re only a few thousand feet up now. Some of the regiment can start running, get to the ground,” Davidson says, helping one of the soldiers limp away from the head of the line. His communication officer follows, still jabbering into her radio. “The outpost at Goldengrove has transports. It isn’t far from the foot of the mountain.”
On the ground, Farley whirls, lowering her gun in her haste. “You want us to split up?”
“Not for long,” Davidson replies.
She pales, rising to her feet. “But long enough if—”
“If?” he asks.
“If this is a trap. A feint. You got word from the towns that raiders were close. But where is the attack?” She gestures to the black horizon. “There isn’t one. Not out there.”
Davidson frowns, eyes shifting. “Not yet.”
“Or they didn’t plan to attack at all. They wanted to draw us out of the city,” Farley says. “Catch us on the cliffs. You said yourself, they fight for their pride. And the city is too well defended. This is a hell of way to get valuable targets out in the open.”
The premier steps to her, his face grim and stern. Then he puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little. A friendly if apologetic gesture. “I won’t leave my people out there alone because we might be in danger. I can’t do that, General Farley. I know you understand my position,” he sighs.
I expect more of a fight from Farley, but she drops her chin, almost nodding. She chews her lip and says nothing more.
Satisfied, Davidson looks over his shoulder. “Captain Highcloud, Captain Viya,” he calls. Two officers in their black suits step forward, ready for their orders. “Take your units down. Hard march, all speed. Rendezvous at Goldengrove.”
They salute in response, turning to gather their soldiers. As the two units group near the head of the line, Tiberias winces. He hastens to the premier, clasping his arm. Not to threaten him, but to beg.
I know what fear looks like on Tiberias Calore, and I see it in him now.
“Leave the gravitrons, at least,” he pleads. “In case they decide to blow us all off the mountain . . .”
After a brief moment of reflection, Davidson clicks his teeth. “Fine,” he says. “And Your Highness, if you wouldn’t mind,” he adds, turning to face Evangeline, “those transports aren’t going to climb over this mess without help. Use the gravitrons too. They’ll make quick work for you.”
She eyes him with steel annoyance, unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone but her father. Still, she sighs and trots off to do as he wills.
“What about me?” I ask, planting myself between Tiberias and Davidson. Both of them jolt, forgetting I was even here to begin with.
“Stay vigilant” is all Davidson offers, shrugging. “Unless you can lift a transport off the ground, there’s not much any of us can do right now.”
Helpful, I growl in my head. But the frustration is with myself. My ability is meant to destroy. It has no purpose right now. I’m useless, for the moment.
So is Tiberias.
He watches Davidson stalk off, his communications officer in tow, leaving us standing alone, our backs to the wrecked hulk of my transport. Adrenaline and electricity still course through me. I have to lean against the metal, my fingers knotted together to keep from twitching.
“I don’t like this,” Tiberias mutters.
I scoff, scuffing my new boots on the road. “Stuck on a cliff, half of the soldiers gone, transports ruined, raider attack imminent, and I didn’t get to finish my dinner. What’s not to like?”
In spite of our circumstances, he grins, his smile crooked and familiar. I cross my arms, hoping he can’t see me flush in the dim light. He stares at me, his eyes an intent, burning bronze as they trace my face. Slowly, his lips fall and the smile fades as he remembers our decisions. Our choices. But his stare remains, and I feel fire rise inside me. Rage and want and regret in equal measure.
“Don’t look at me like that, Tiberias.”
“Don’t call me Tiberias,” he shoots back, dropping his gaze.
I laugh bitterly. “It’s the name you chose.”
To that he has no response, and we lapse into uneasy silence. The occasional shout or metallic groan echoes across the mountainside, the only sound in the empty darkness.
On the zagging road above us, Evangeline, her cousins, and the gravitrons slowly leapfrog the all-terrain vehicles, moving the wrecks behind the transports that can still function. Davidson must have told her to preserve all the wrecks she could, or else she could just crush them all to dust and let the rest roll through.
“I’m sorry about before, in the armory,” he says after a long moment. He keeps his eyes on the ground, head bowed in shadow. But not enough to hide the cold flush across his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I don’t care what you said. I care about the intention behind it,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I don’t belong to you.”
“I think anyone with eyes can see that.”
“Can you?” I ask sharply.