Back in the Wild by R. J. Davnall
mean, what if they just arrest us?" Atla looked at Rel, caved under the force of his frown, and turned to Pevan. "If we want to seem legal or whatever, don't we have to go with them?"
"We'll..." What? Either give up hope of stopping the Separatists, or give up any thought of ever going home to celebrate having done so. She said, "We'll just have to hope that doesn't happen."
"Long shot." Chag's tone was weary, deadpan.
Atla's brows pinched together. "Can we at least make some sort of plan? Uh, I mean, for if things go wrong?"
"That's when we fight it out," Rel said. "If you get close to Horvin, go for his eyes. Get in close. Don't try to out-fight him, just try to make him blink. Keep an eye on the Gatemaker... Chaiya?" He waited for Pevan to nod. "It's not a sure guide, but she'll probably be paying attention to where her Gates will go next. For the rest, fight dirty but don't spill blood. We're too few to be nice about this."
By the time Rel finished, Atla's mouth was hanging open. The boy's face was white. Pevan fixed Rel with a Dora-scowl. "You've thought way too much about this."
"Every day since Vessit." The glare he turned on her was equally stony. "Even before that, I spent a lot of time thinking about our weaknesses."
"You really think it's going to work?" She hated the waver in her voice.
Rel shrugged. "Haven't got any better ideas."
"This is the craziest plan I've ever hatched."
"Says the girl who jumped out of a cloud to catch h-" Rel's mirth faltered as he glanced at Chag. "To catch him last month. Not to mention travelling blind without a Guide in the Second Realm yesterday and assaulting the Separatists on their home ground. We're the best there's ever been, Pev. We'll make it work."
She managed a smile for him, though neither Chag nor Atla seemed much enthused. To the group, she said, "So what do we actually do?"
Ilbertin nestled in the cleft of a sharp valley, a narrow town stretched out between waterfalls in an eager stream. Pevan stood atop the falls above the town, where the trees came right to the corner between the stream and the cliff. Rel had searched hard, but found no evidence that the townspeople were patrolling the cliff-tops. From here, she could see pretty clearly over the hillside where the plan was to play out.
Further along, where Atla and Chag would come over the ridge, the cliffs pulled back from the town and gave way to a slope long-since cleared of trees. Ilbertin was pretty well set up for defending against a Wildren incursion; the high valley-sides would foul an attack from the air, and the sharp slopes would trip any Wilder unfamiliar with First-Realm physics.
It remained to be seen how well the town would fare against fellow humans.
Rel and Atla had tracked down the Separatists' watchdog, a silvery creature that looked like a set of not-quite-aligned, spiky wheels, in the forest. For the sake of appearances, though, she'd kept Rel back and sent Chag to go with Atla. That way, no-one could accuse her of planning for a fight. Officially, she and Rel were shadowing the contact party, hoping that they wouldn't be needed.
She forced her jaw to relax, then put her hand up to try to massage some of the ache from it. It wasn't often that she sympathised with Rel's frustration at how limiting the terms of the Treaty could be when in action. Still, it was vital - more so now than ever - to avoid any misunderstandings.
Down in the town, there was no sign of the incipient rebellion. Perhaps on a normal day, it might have been a little livelier. As far as she could tell, the only people in the streets were town guards, little more than half-glimpses of motion through the gaps between buildings. A scattered handful of sheep grazed on the far side of the valley.
Pevan turned her attention back to watching the ridge. She bit her lip. It would be easy to pop a Gate a hundred yards over that way and take a look, check that Chag hadn't gotten himself killed. If the Wilder saw, though, or sensed the distortion, their story would fall apart. Chag and Atla would follow procedure and fall back towards the town and the marginal safety of its Warding if things got hairy. The boundary of the Warding should be not far beyond the ridge.
If he had breath, Chag had promised, he'd shout an alert. If he had breath, after the rage of adrenaline that would have to come from confronting the Wilder, and then the dash up-hill. The wind was in the wrong direction too. Pevan glanced over her shoulder at Rel, leaning idly and apparently half-asleep against a tree. He was just conserving his attention and energy, she knew, but it would have been nice if he gave some outward sign of uncertainty.
Her stomach growled. Technically, she hadn't eaten in days, but it was really only the eighteen hours or so since they'd escaped the Second Realm that she was feeling. They had water thanks to Rel's canteen, but food was a problem that had had to be put aside. She didn't really have any idea how they might pick it up again later, either. Another one to file under 'get Taslin to help'.
Atla appeared over the rim of the valley. A torrent of ice flushed through Pevan's veins, her skin tingling as she came on-guard. The lad's arms were flapping wildly, his wobbly stride suggesting he was close to the end of his strength. Where was Chag? Something blurred skyward from beyond the ridge, and shattered against the invisible bubble of Ilbertin's Warding.
Rel appeared at her shoulder, both hands wrapped around the branch he'd fashioned into a makeshift spear. This close to a Warding, it ought to be enough to keep the Separatist at arm's reach, but it still looked like a hurried affair - not something that could be taken as evidence of too much preparation.
She spun the Gate in her mind, from just behind Rel's feet to the ridge where Chag still hadn't appeared. No need to tell Rel what she was doing; he knew, he was ready. Along the valley, Atla stumbled, almost falling head-long. Somehow the lad kept himself upright. Pevan let the Gate snap into place, and Rel was gone, no more than the briefest shiver through her Gift to mark his transit.
Her next job was to go to the fleeing Gifted, to make sure they got to safety. Procedure said she went for Atla first, and save the one she knew could be saved, but he was almost to safety. Where the hell was Chag? She swallowed and made a second Gate to the ridge, some way along from where Rel had sprinted out of view. It ought to give a good view of the far hillside.
The world spun around her as she dropped backwards through the Gateway, twisting so she came up facing the right direction. She closed the Gate before her feet touched the floor and immediately dived prone. Thick, damp grass cushioned her fall and she rolled sideways, up to a crouch that could become a sprinting start in a single motion.
A flash of sunlight on polished metal drew her eyes to the Separatist first. The creature was grinding sluggishly up the hill, leaving a dark trail through the grass and gorse. Whatever was slowing it down, it was still gaining on Chag, who looked like he was scrambling on all fours, head bowed and knees sagging. Rel, pounding down from the ridge, was still a couple of hundred yards from the action.
She'd have to chance it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spun a Gate from the patch of grass just to her left through to where Chag climbed. Identifying the precise location just from Chag's being there made the thought slippery, but she fought the Gate into line. Paused a moment to check she had a firm hold on it, and to gather every whisker of alertness she could.
The Gateway snapped into place, and she grabbed Chag around the waist as he appeared next to her. Light though he was, his weight almost pulled her off-balance, into the Gate, but she heaved and was able to get him clear. She slammed the Gate closed before the Wilder could strike at them through it.
They went sprawling across the grass, just about managing not to knock each other out in a blur of elbows and confusion. Chag ended up on top of her, his breath rasping in her ears. Despite breathlessness, though, he levered himself up in short order, pausing to catch her eye. No burst of laughter this time. Between gasps, he managed a hoarse, "Atla?"
"Ahead. Safe. Let's move." She wriggled clear and pushed herself up to sitting. Down the hill, Rel had reached the Separatist. He'd fallen in
to the trance-like, languid style that marked out a Clearseer fighting a second into the future, weaving through the Wilder's attacks as he drew it slowly back up the hill.
A rescued Gifted had to be brought to the Warding Hall, as swiftly as possible. They couldn't afford to deviate from procedure, no matter how vulnerable it made them. Chag's hand landed on her shoulder, and she leaned forward to kiss him, quickly, at the side of his mouth. No time for more than that. Better they get to the Warding Hall ahead of Atla, in case there was a trap waiting.
Pevan closed her eyes and pictured the village below. There wasn't much space in front of the Hall, and she could at least use the excuse of not wanting to waste all her energy penetrating that deep into the bubble of the Warding. She picked a spot half-way down the street that led to the Hall and spun the Gateway through to it.
To Chag, she said, "Land at a run."
He nodded, stepped closer, so that they could both fall forwards into the Gateway together. She took a deep breath, rehearsing the next second or two. Fall forward, let momentum carry her up to almost standing. Let her knees sag to get the rest of the way into a run. Clumsy, but she didn't want to be static even for a moment on the far side.
They moved as one, or so close to it as made no difference. Their hands brushed,
"We'll..." What? Either give up hope of stopping the Separatists, or give up any thought of ever going home to celebrate having done so. She said, "We'll just have to hope that doesn't happen."
"Long shot." Chag's tone was weary, deadpan.
Atla's brows pinched together. "Can we at least make some sort of plan? Uh, I mean, for if things go wrong?"
"That's when we fight it out," Rel said. "If you get close to Horvin, go for his eyes. Get in close. Don't try to out-fight him, just try to make him blink. Keep an eye on the Gatemaker... Chaiya?" He waited for Pevan to nod. "It's not a sure guide, but she'll probably be paying attention to where her Gates will go next. For the rest, fight dirty but don't spill blood. We're too few to be nice about this."
By the time Rel finished, Atla's mouth was hanging open. The boy's face was white. Pevan fixed Rel with a Dora-scowl. "You've thought way too much about this."
"Every day since Vessit." The glare he turned on her was equally stony. "Even before that, I spent a lot of time thinking about our weaknesses."
"You really think it's going to work?" She hated the waver in her voice.
Rel shrugged. "Haven't got any better ideas."
"This is the craziest plan I've ever hatched."
"Says the girl who jumped out of a cloud to catch h-" Rel's mirth faltered as he glanced at Chag. "To catch him last month. Not to mention travelling blind without a Guide in the Second Realm yesterday and assaulting the Separatists on their home ground. We're the best there's ever been, Pev. We'll make it work."
She managed a smile for him, though neither Chag nor Atla seemed much enthused. To the group, she said, "So what do we actually do?"
Ilbertin nestled in the cleft of a sharp valley, a narrow town stretched out between waterfalls in an eager stream. Pevan stood atop the falls above the town, where the trees came right to the corner between the stream and the cliff. Rel had searched hard, but found no evidence that the townspeople were patrolling the cliff-tops. From here, she could see pretty clearly over the hillside where the plan was to play out.
Further along, where Atla and Chag would come over the ridge, the cliffs pulled back from the town and gave way to a slope long-since cleared of trees. Ilbertin was pretty well set up for defending against a Wildren incursion; the high valley-sides would foul an attack from the air, and the sharp slopes would trip any Wilder unfamiliar with First-Realm physics.
It remained to be seen how well the town would fare against fellow humans.
Rel and Atla had tracked down the Separatists' watchdog, a silvery creature that looked like a set of not-quite-aligned, spiky wheels, in the forest. For the sake of appearances, though, she'd kept Rel back and sent Chag to go with Atla. That way, no-one could accuse her of planning for a fight. Officially, she and Rel were shadowing the contact party, hoping that they wouldn't be needed.
She forced her jaw to relax, then put her hand up to try to massage some of the ache from it. It wasn't often that she sympathised with Rel's frustration at how limiting the terms of the Treaty could be when in action. Still, it was vital - more so now than ever - to avoid any misunderstandings.
Down in the town, there was no sign of the incipient rebellion. Perhaps on a normal day, it might have been a little livelier. As far as she could tell, the only people in the streets were town guards, little more than half-glimpses of motion through the gaps between buildings. A scattered handful of sheep grazed on the far side of the valley.
Pevan turned her attention back to watching the ridge. She bit her lip. It would be easy to pop a Gate a hundred yards over that way and take a look, check that Chag hadn't gotten himself killed. If the Wilder saw, though, or sensed the distortion, their story would fall apart. Chag and Atla would follow procedure and fall back towards the town and the marginal safety of its Warding if things got hairy. The boundary of the Warding should be not far beyond the ridge.
If he had breath, Chag had promised, he'd shout an alert. If he had breath, after the rage of adrenaline that would have to come from confronting the Wilder, and then the dash up-hill. The wind was in the wrong direction too. Pevan glanced over her shoulder at Rel, leaning idly and apparently half-asleep against a tree. He was just conserving his attention and energy, she knew, but it would have been nice if he gave some outward sign of uncertainty.
Her stomach growled. Technically, she hadn't eaten in days, but it was really only the eighteen hours or so since they'd escaped the Second Realm that she was feeling. They had water thanks to Rel's canteen, but food was a problem that had had to be put aside. She didn't really have any idea how they might pick it up again later, either. Another one to file under 'get Taslin to help'.
Atla appeared over the rim of the valley. A torrent of ice flushed through Pevan's veins, her skin tingling as she came on-guard. The lad's arms were flapping wildly, his wobbly stride suggesting he was close to the end of his strength. Where was Chag? Something blurred skyward from beyond the ridge, and shattered against the invisible bubble of Ilbertin's Warding.
Rel appeared at her shoulder, both hands wrapped around the branch he'd fashioned into a makeshift spear. This close to a Warding, it ought to be enough to keep the Separatist at arm's reach, but it still looked like a hurried affair - not something that could be taken as evidence of too much preparation.
She spun the Gate in her mind, from just behind Rel's feet to the ridge where Chag still hadn't appeared. No need to tell Rel what she was doing; he knew, he was ready. Along the valley, Atla stumbled, almost falling head-long. Somehow the lad kept himself upright. Pevan let the Gate snap into place, and Rel was gone, no more than the briefest shiver through her Gift to mark his transit.
Her next job was to go to the fleeing Gifted, to make sure they got to safety. Procedure said she went for Atla first, and save the one she knew could be saved, but he was almost to safety. Where the hell was Chag? She swallowed and made a second Gate to the ridge, some way along from where Rel had sprinted out of view. It ought to give a good view of the far hillside.
The world spun around her as she dropped backwards through the Gateway, twisting so she came up facing the right direction. She closed the Gate before her feet touched the floor and immediately dived prone. Thick, damp grass cushioned her fall and she rolled sideways, up to a crouch that could become a sprinting start in a single motion.
A flash of sunlight on polished metal drew her eyes to the Separatist first. The creature was grinding sluggishly up the hill, leaving a dark trail through the grass and gorse. Whatever was slowing it down, it was still gaining on Chag, who looked like he was scrambling on all fours, head bowed and knees sagging. Rel, pounding down from the ridge, was still a couple of hundred yards from the action.
She'd have to chance it. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spun a Gate from the patch of grass just to her left through to where Chag climbed. Identifying the precise location just from Chag's being there made the thought slippery, but she fought the Gate into line. Paused a moment to check she had a firm hold on it, and to gather every whisker of alertness she could.
The Gateway snapped into place, and she grabbed Chag around the waist as he appeared next to her. Light though he was, his weight almost pulled her off-balance, into the Gate, but she heaved and was able to get him clear. She slammed the Gate closed before the Wilder could strike at them through it.
They went sprawling across the grass, just about managing not to knock each other out in a blur of elbows and confusion. Chag ended up on top of her, his breath rasping in her ears. Despite breathlessness, though, he levered himself up in short order, pausing to catch her eye. No burst of laughter this time. Between gasps, he managed a hoarse, "Atla?"
"Ahead. Safe. Let's move." She wriggled clear and pushed herself up to sitting. Down the hill, Rel had reached the Separatist. He'd fallen in
A rescued Gifted had to be brought to the Warding Hall, as swiftly as possible. They couldn't afford to deviate from procedure, no matter how vulnerable it made them. Chag's hand landed on her shoulder, and she leaned forward to kiss him, quickly, at the side of his mouth. No time for more than that. Better they get to the Warding Hall ahead of Atla, in case there was a trap waiting.
Pevan closed her eyes and pictured the village below. There wasn't much space in front of the Hall, and she could at least use the excuse of not wanting to waste all her energy penetrating that deep into the bubble of the Warding. She picked a spot half-way down the street that led to the Hall and spun the Gateway through to it.
To Chag, she said, "Land at a run."
He nodded, stepped closer, so that they could both fall forwards into the Gateway together. She took a deep breath, rehearsing the next second or two. Fall forward, let momentum carry her up to almost standing. Let her knees sag to get the rest of the way into a run. Clumsy, but she didn't want to be static even for a moment on the far side.
They moved as one, or so close to it as made no difference. Their hands brushed,