21. Arianna

There was nothing like this feeling. She had experienced much in her twenty-two years of life. But the sensation of someone stripping her down to an essence that even she couldn’t describe was incomparable to any other situation she had found herself in.

Arianna had devoted herself to person and cause. She had wholly and completely loved as a friend, as a lover. But this was something entirely different.

And utterly terrifying.

Once more she was caught bare before him and she hadn’t even scratched his surface. Her hands twisted in his clothing, ill-fitting and basic as it was. She wanted to rip it off and push him down. She wanted to sink her teeth into him and show him that their world moved on her terms.

It had only been seconds since they ascended through the empty window of the guard tower. But time falling back into place had made it seem like an eternity. The nagging sensation of things moving once more brought her attention back to the present. The sound of footsteps nearing reminded her of where and who she was, what she was doing.

She was Arianna. She was the White Wraith. And she had a job to do.

Her fingers relinquished him, quickly working to unstrap his body from hers. The cabling retreated into its spool with a thought. She kept her eyes from his until the effects of the imbibing wore off both of them. She had no interest in making herself vulnerable again before him. He had already made her feel that way without even knowing it.

The only way arrogance and confidence are similar is that both can get you killed, Arianna. The words echoed back through her mind from a woman long dead. This man, this Dragon—he was nothing like her Eva. Arianna refused to accept it.

Arianna pulled out a token. On it was an alchemical rune. Florence said the range wouldn’t be terribly far, but exactly how far “terribly” was, she couldn’t quite say. Ari pressed her thumb into the rune and pushed her magic through it, willing heat. It shattered under her fingertips and, at exactly the same moment, an explosion cut chaos into the quiet night.

The bomb on their skiff drew the attention of the exterior guards and Arianna bounded through the interior door of the tower. A long tunnel connected the outer wall with the guard tower, one of four. Through the window slits on either side, Arianna got her first glimpse of the floating prison. Concrete and steel fitted together to construct a grim image of desolation. Every cell had an open barred wall facing a narrow walk that spiraled around the entirety of the prison—the only way up or down.

On the edge of the walk, facing the inner tower, were painted the numbers of each cell. Arianna quickly made a note of the highest and lowest. Once she knew that, she could calculate approximately where any cell was using basic estimations of height and spacing. The largest variable remained finding what numbers she needed.

The door at the end of the suspended, tunneled bridge opened. A circled Revo leveled a gun with a golden barrel at them, his vermilion eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. She didn’t even miss a step. She kept charging down the stretch head on.

His wrist tensed and Ari slammed herself against the right wall. Cvareh moved in lockstep, pressing himself on the opposite wall as she had hounded him to do—when in doubt, she went right, he left. The gunshot was louder than an engine’s piston firing and she was certain her ears were bleeding, though her magic worked immediately to repair the damage.

Cvareh winced, covering his ears. But Arianna had a different kind of instinct. Her gun was already drawn. The trigger was pulled before the Revo had time to lower his.

But he was well trained, and he predicted her shot, falling to the ground at a diagonal. Arianna dropped her gun, reaching for her daggers. The man stood, bringing a fist covered in brass knuckles into her gut. Her stomach collapsed, expending the air in her. She curved forward and used the momentum to bring the dagger into his throat, tearing through his windpipe.

“Grab my gun!” she shouted to Cvareh, pushing through the door to engage with the other guard at the top of the Tower.

The woman knocked the knife from Ari with the side of her revolver, then grabbed for Ari’s wrist, holding it away as she tried to lock the muzzle of the gun onto her face. Ari spun, slamming her opponent into the wall, the other dagger in her hand. The woman twisted her grip.

Gunfire echoed through the small, barren room, a pockmark steaming in the ceiling from an incendiary round that narrowly missed Arianna’s head. The woman slammed her foot into Arianna’s heel, trying to trip her. Ari held fast with a grimace.

A steely blue hand jutted over her shoulder, grabbing the woman’s neck. Ari felt the heat from her Dragon at close proximity. She watched the muscles in his forearm tense as they pushed his claws through the woman’s throat, killing her instantly. He withdrew, shaking the red blood off his hand with a grimace and then held out her gun.

“Thank you.” Arianna accepted her weapon from the man and trusted he’d hear the words in more ways than one.

“Lead. I’ll have your back.” He glanced back toward the hall. Both their sets of Dragon ears were picking up fast-running footsteps, men and women alerted to their presence by the commotion.

“I’ll trust you with it, then.” The words were cumbersome. Her lips didn’t want to form them, but Arianna discovered that something could be right and uncomfortable at the same time. Her footsteps stalled as she rounded the staircase leading down the central watchtower.

He looked at her in confusion. That same emotion was reflected in her every thought. She had left someone behind before. She had done so knowing they would die for her sake, for the sake of their mission.

Arianna held up an accusatory finger. “Dragon, don’t you dare die on me.”

Cvareh was visibly taken aback at the proclamation.

“I want my boon,” she added hastily, and disappeared further down the Tower.

There were five guards, of this she was now certain. Two sets of footsteps from watchers in the Towers. The two they’d killed in the central guard tower. And one below her still.

But time was still of the essence. The explosion from their skiff was likely to draw attention on the shore, assuming none of the guards had fired some kind of signal flare she and Cvareh missed from being indoors since time stopped. Logically, reinforcements were coming, and Arianna gave them six minutes across the stretch of water between the floating prison and the mainland, and perhaps another ten to get themselves and a boat in order—she’d round down to fifteen.

It meant she had ten minutes left to kill the remaining guards, find the cell she needed, break out Florence’s friends, steal a boat, and evade any pursuers on the water. Ari grinned wildly, flashing her teeth as a volley of gunfire rang out between her and the guard before her, echoed by shots above. Plenty of time.

The man ahead used a single round shotgun, powerful but slow. He knew it too as he reached for the saber strapped to his hip. Swords. Now there was something she didn’t mess with. Swords were archaic and only two types of people used them as a result: arrogant newbie Revos who wanted to show off, and masters. Since the man bore a black circle, she wasn’t betting on the former.

The slightly curving blade echoed against its scabbard, its single edge gleaming wickedly in the lamplight. Arianna grabbed for her cabling, quickly clipping her dagger to it. Her weapons wouldn’t stand up; she knew when she was bested. So it was time to throw a skill of her own into play. Magic.

Her dagger fluttered around him like an annoying fly. He batted it away with his sword, dodging and half-stepping closer. Arianna tuned out the sounds of the battle above her and targeted the Revo. Malice burned through her, ignited by frustration. She didn’t want to kill this man or his allies, she had no delight in it. Their deaths were a means to her end, more bodies sacrificed upon the altar of the lost future she had been striving to build alone in the years following the collapse of the last resistance.

He didn’t stand a chance against the beam of pure energy that fired right through his chest.

Ari holstered her gun and leaned against the wall, catching her breath. She was killing Fenthri for a Dragon. It was a truth so insane she had no other option but to believe it was real. Yet she couldn’t muster the same hatred for Cvareh. There was a desperate sort of survival in him too.

She shook her head with a breathless laugh at herself. I actually believe he’s fighting against the Dragon King. What was the world coming to?

The commotion above quieted as Arianna reached the central office of the prison. A shelf of large ledgers directed her to exactly what she needed to know. There were only a few things to monitor in a prison, after all: the scheduling of the guards, general maintenance, food, and who was where.

“Glad to see you could manage two Revos,” she remarked as a familiar set of footsteps treaded down the stairs.

“Did you have any doubt?” He wasn’t even winded.

“When it comes to you, I have nothing but doubt.” Ari glanced over her shoulder. He had a few cuts that were already healing and half his sleeve seemed to have been blown off, exposing cut muscle beneath. “Did you shoulder a shot straight on?”

“They weren’t expecting it.” Cvareh stood at her side, looking at the ledger she was assessing. She was impressed, but he saved her from saying so when he pointed at the list of names. “Shouldn’t we just call out and ask for them by name?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yes, because no other prisoner would claim to be someone they’re not at the prospect of escape.”

“Point taken.” He turned, leaning against the table and closing his eyes. “Sounds like we’re alone.”

“For now,” she agreed. “Though more will be here soon.” Her eyes fell on the names she had been searching for. Arianna dragged her finger across the page, checking the dates they were imprisoned against when she met Florence. It matched. “But we have who we need.”

The floors of the tower that were eye-level with the cells had only slats for windows. The wider ones were at the top, where a guard could survey both prison and sea without being visible. Arianna looked out over the compound. Shouts and calls were starting to rise from inmates who realized something was amiss.

“There.” She pointed at an enclosed tunnel on the ground. Bloody everything was enclosed so the guards were never visible to the prisoners. “Run down the Tower and get halfway through that tunnel. Use this.”

“How?” Despite his confusion, Cvareh accepted the disk she passed him.

Arianna ran his fingers over the alchemical rune Florence had etched onto the surface of the bomb. “Here, focus your magic here. Imagine it heating, melting.”

“Right.” He bolted for the stairs.

“And make sure you’re a good distance away when you do!” Arianna called after him.

“Count on me!” he shouted back.

Arianna gripped her golden line tightly. That was the dangerous thing. The longer they spent together, the more she thought she could.

Hopping up on the windowsill, Arianna glanced down, finding numbers 127 and 138. Unfortunately, the prison was too well run to put partners in crime next to each other. But they were at least close. She set her sights on the higher of the two, her line shooting out and latching to the bars of a cell just above.

The shouts of the offended prisoner whose cell she used as an anchor point were drowned out by the rush of wind in her ears as she leapt into the open air. Her winch box whirred, pulling her up as she arced across the length of the gap between the inner tower and the cells. Kicking out her feet, Ari tumbled onto the narrow spiraling walkway, her cord unhooking and retracting into its spool.

“Falling airships, woman!” the girl behind the bars exclaimed. “The Vicar Raven know you got that setup? Because I’m thinking she may want a schematic.”

“Do I look like someone who’d work with the Vicar Raven?” Arianna turned her cheeks.

“Unmarked? Be careful or they’ll lock you in here too. You’ve too much talent for them to just kill. They’ll try to break you first.” The girl grinned madly. She folded her hands behind her back, swaying from toe to heel.

“Dead men don’t lock doors, Helen.”

“Guard killer and you know my name? Aren’t you just the epitome of mystery?” The girl laughed and shook her head. Hair that Arianna presumed was once the color of snow hung in dingy, matted chunks around her face. No one ever praised the floating prison for its treatment of inmates.

“Add, ‘the woman who broke you out’ to that list.” Arianna unrolled a strip of tools attached to her hip, setting on the lock. She whistled to herself. “Now, what Rivet built this?”

“A master, I think.” Helen watched in amusement. “Some of the other Rivets here have tried. You have tools, but I don’t know if…”

Arianna tuned her out. The lock had a closed front, no keyhole. All screws and connectors were concealed within, making disassembly difficult. The key slot was thin and flat, which Ari presumed to mean the keys were like cards embedded with a series of notches that depressed tumblers at the opposite end of the lock box.

She had two more explosives on her, but she really didn’t want to waste them. It was likely that she wouldn’t have another opportunity for Florence to restock before they fled into the Underground. And using a bomb assumed it would damage the lock enough to crack it without injuring the prisoner within.

First things first, she had to get into the lock to disengage it. Fortunately for her, this wasn’t a job that required discretion. She ran the pads of her fingers along the seams, searching for a weak point in the welding. The prison’s inners had been exposed to the sea and salt air since its construction in the early days of Ter.4, and if there was one thing metal didn’t like, it was the combination of time, moisture, and salt.

Her nails fell into a hairline groove on the side—a fatigue failure. She went for her thinnest golden tool, driving it into the crack and twisting the flat head, widening the gap. Keeping one pin in place, she reached for a second, repeating the process hastily until the front was halfway off. Unfortunately, the top part of the weld proved to be much stronger.

She needed more leverage.

There was enough space now for her slimmer, sharper dagger to fit. Arianna inwardly winced at the idea of sacrificing the edge of her blade like this and made a mental note to sharpen it later. She twisted it, grunting with the strain. The cover bent just enough for her to get a look under.

It was as she suspected: several pins at different intervals, waiting to be lined up. That was the design flaw. Unlike a normal lock that required pressure on the pins throughout a turn to disengage, this only required the pins to be engaged correctly at the same time for the bolt to be pulled back. Ari could see why it was effective given the circumstances—mostly enclosed design, unique key to discourage people from trying to pick it, unconventionally shaped access to the pins. But once it was cracked, it put up no fight.

“What in the Five Guilds are you, lady?” Helen asked as Arianna pulled open the door.

“Someone who’s looking for a favor from you.”

“Get me out of here, I’ll do anything you want.” The girl grinned, taking Ari’s invitation and strolling out of the cell onto the landing. She took an instinctual breath of air. Though it was chemically no different than what she had been breathing through the bars for two years, Arianna could only suspect that it was a little bit sweeter in that moment.

“I need you to take me through the Underground.”

“Tall order,” the girl hummed.

Ari smirked, admiring her cheekiness. She was negotiating with the woman who had freed her as though it were nothing. “Florence is waiting for you now at its entrance.”

Helen froze. “Flor? She made it?”

Ari nodded. “Now, run down. Head for the tunnel out.”

The girl stared skeptically for one long moment, but she didn’t have many options—linger and be jailed again, or flee and trust Arianna at face value. Ari greatly appreciated that she was the sensible type. As Helen ran, Ari hooked herself into the bars and jumped over the ledge down to the landing below.

She ignored the calls of inmates pleading for their freedom. There were real criminals mixed among those who had been jailed for failing to follow the Dragon King’s mandates, and she had no record of who was who. For all she loathed the Dragons, Ari wouldn’t spite them at the risk of putting someone actually dangerous back on the streets of Loom.

Helen was slow, and by the time she had made it around the large loop of the walkway Ari had finished unlocking the door of Will’s cell, explaining the same overview of the situation in the process. They were just starting down when the explosion she’d been waiting for rattled the enclosed hall below, blowing out chunks of stone and cement. Dust plumed skyward and Ari looked for a certain blue shadow to emerge from its curtain.

Coughing, Cvareh didn’t disappoint her.

“Took you long enough!” she called over the increasing volume of shouts from the other prisoners.

“It’s not like you were waiting,” he noted as they reached the cement floor at the ground level.

“I can still judge you for taking that long to figure out a simple bomb.” The corner of her mouth twitched upward in what could dangerously be called a grin.

“Bent axles, what in the five is a Dragon doing here?” Will blubbered.

“He’s a friend,” she answered without a thought, stepping into the hall.

Cvareh’s golden eyes squinted at her. Arianna didn’t even need to turn her head to know his expression. She was just as shocked as he was. The word slipped out before she’d had time to think it through. He is nothing more than the Dragon who offered you a boon, Ari insisted privately.

A well-kept speedboat was docked in one of two open slots protected either side by rocky outcroppings. Arianna looked to her companions. “I trust one of you can captain this thing.”

Will and Helen’s heads snapped to face each other.

“Helm?” Will asked.

“You get engine.” Helen grinned in reply.

The two sprinted up the gangplank, assessing the ship as quickly as Ari did a clockwork machine. She had no doubt they already knew the top speed, drag, handling—everything about the vessel. Florence might not have been a born Raven, but from what she’d said of her friends, they were. And these were things that, once trained, were never forgotten.

“You sure it’s safe?” Cvareh followed her aboard. He took a step closer, adding softly, “To let them drive?”

“Safer than my doing it.” If there was one thing no one wanted, it was Arianna behind the wheel of any vessel that was more than a rowboat or paddle trike.

“If you insist, I’ll trust you.” He shrugged and situated himself against the railing.

The words turned over in her head. But before Arianna had a chance to dive into the depths of their implications, a distinct rainbow streak blazed a trail through the darkness over Ter.4.2.