29

Cendral smelled the same.

Wet iron, crushed grass, and stone after fire.

Almost five years had erased the tents, the banners, and the bodies. Rain still gathered in the same hollows. The river kept the bend where Isolde had fallen. Young trees grew around the trenches on the slope.

Three Needles towered over the valley.

They were natural columns of black rock. Before the battle, patrols had used them as landmarks. Now they bore platforms, cables, and blue lights.

C-0 breathed beneath them.

Isolde watched from the eastern forest. Kaoran sat beside her on a root. They had left the horses two leagues away. Beren and Oren were studying the record inside a low tent.

“The bridge was there,” Kaoran said.

Isolde looked at the line of stones crossing the river.

“Yes.”

“We can go in from the north.”

“The shortest route goes past the bridge.”

“The short route’s no use if it leaves you trapped in another day.”

Isolde rested her hand on the scar beneath her ribs. Her body recognized the ground before her eyes did. Her left leg was tightening, and two fingers had gone numb.

She counted one breath. The river still pushed against the same stones. On the second, she saw Beren move a stake beside the tent. Oren was disputing the channel’s position in his drawing.

She loosened her fingers as she took the third.

“Let me look at the bridge.”

Kaoran waited where he sat. Isolde followed the bank with her eyes, from the broken support to the lights of Three Needles. Darian had closed that way out. Today’s path lay before her, and she could compare it with the one to the north.

“We’ll go in here,” she said. “The water conduit’s closer. If the first watch is still on the riverbank, we’ll take the other entrance.”

Kaoran brought the map closer.

“Show me where we’d change course.”

“Two posts on the riverbank. Patrols every half hour. A core beneath the second needle. Water wagons instead of ore.”

“Why water?”

“To cool the distributor.”

Oren came out of the tent.

“Synchronization started early.”

He carried a strip of the record and a drawing of the shutdown cylinder. He had spent three days comparing the markings.

“How early?” Isolde asked.

“Five days.”

“Neraval was supposed to arrive in groups over two weeks.”

“Varek replaced the human load. He’s using the eastern stations.”

Beren appeared behind him.

“The record lists forty-two conductors at C-0.”

“Prisoners?”

“Technicians, soldiers under disciplinary orders, and people with no recorded origin. The category lets them use anyone.”

Kaoran took the drawing.

“Objectives.”

Oren pointed to three levels.

“First we free the conductors. Then we record the measurements. The distributor has to stop when all nine lines are in balance.”

“Eight,” Isolde said. “West-9 is shut down.”

“The gap creates a deviation. That’s why they’re moving synchronization forward. If we remove the central conductor during the high phase, the pressure could tear the Scar.”

“We wait for the neutral phase.”

“It lasts ninety heartbeats. Beren will have to open the clamps while I remove the pressure record.”

“And me?”

“The central conductor responds to bonded fire.”

Kaoran looked at the empty sky.

Rheskan was still away. They had found another claw mark beside the road, pointing toward Cendral. For two days, the bond had been full of rock and exhaustion.

“He may be inside,” Isolde said.

“He may also have chosen another station,” Kaoran replied.

“I know.”

“Does the plan depend on him?”

“It depends on the distributor recognizing my fire. If Rheskan comes, he’ll choose his own task.”

Kaoran folded the drawing.

“Ways out.”

Beren showed them the map. A water conduit emptied into the river. A maintenance tunnel emerged beside the first needle. The main route led up a guarded ramp.

“The conduit can carry documents,” he said. “Oren’s prepared three floating cylinders.”

“Who collects them?” Isolde asked.

“A crew from Halver will be waiting downstream. One will go to Aelyn through the gray thread. Another will travel to Arkhe. The third will stay with the families from C-7.”

“People.”

“Same conduit to the riverbank. Then the eastern forest.”

“The limit.”

Beren looked at Tavra’s crossbow.

“The conductors get out before I go after Leth.”

“And if he shows up?”

“Getting them out still comes first.”

Isolde held his gaze.

“Good.”

“I still want to kill him.”

“I know.”

Beren set the crossbow on the map beside the chairs he would have to open. Then he checked the string and slung it over his shoulder again.

Kaoran laid the map on the root.

“I’ll take up position here. I can see all three needles and send signals down the river.”

“You’re keeping two people with you,” Isolde said.

“The Halver crew.”

“Two with you. The others collect the cylinders.”

“That means fewer hands downriver.”

“It gives you a better way out.”

Kaoran pointed to his chest.

“I’ve been breathing for weeks.”

“I want you to keep doing it.”

He put away the signaling mirror.

“Two people.”

Night fell over Cendral.

* * *

There was a new rope on the bridge.

Isolde found it tied to the same support Darian had cut during the battle. The hemp was waxed and hung with little bells. A guard could close the route from the other bank.

Beren took out a tube of oil.

“I’ll burn it.”

“It’ll ring when the tension goes.”

“Freeze it?”

“I’ll cross first.”

Isolde stepped into the river.

The water reached her old wound. The current pulled at her legs. For an instant, she felt the fall again, the weight of her battle dress, the air vanishing.

An ancient claw came to rest within her mind.

Ydrael waited beneath the stone.

Isolde touched one hand to the riverbed.

“I’m here.”

Pressure answered from C-0.

She moved beneath the bridge and reached the other bank. She cut the bells free one by one. Beren and Oren crossed on the stones.

The first post was empty.

Two cups were still warm beside a fallen chair. Tracks led toward the first needle. Something had called the guards away.

Isolde found four grooves on the door.

Rheskan.

This time, the mark ended with an upward line.

A shadow passed between the clouds.

The dragon came down behind the needle.

A blue chain hung around his neck.

The metal was broken. One end struck his scales as he walked. His wings were wounded, and mud covered him to the chest. He held a ring of red stone in his mouth.

Isolde took a step.

Rheskan set the ring on the ground. He showed her tunnels, three stations, and empty cages. He had followed the network, cut a link, and found a lower entrance to C-0.

Then he showed her the chain.

He had spent two days smashing it against the rock.

Isolde brought her hands toward the clasp.

Rheskan bared his teeth.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

The dragon lowered his head.

Isolde examined the metal. The link had bent out of shape. She used a wedge and a brief flare of fire. Beren pulled the end when Rheskan showed them the angle in an image.

The chain fell.

Rheskan pushed it toward the river.

“You choose your objective,” Isolde said. “There are forty-two people inside. The distributor has to shut down during the neutral phase.”

Rheskan showed her the lower tunnel. There were plates, a water chamber, and two occupied cages.

“People?”

A little girl and an old man appeared in his answer.

“Start with them if you want.”

Rheskan took the red ring and disappeared among the rocks.

He had made his plan before he found them.

Isolde, Beren, and Oren climbed toward the first needle.

The maintenance entrance was behind a cistern. Oren used the West-9 cylinder on the lock. One of the nine lines went dark. The door opened a crack.

They went in.

C-0 spiraled down around a red fissure.

The wound in the stone was three meters wide. Light, heat, and wind poured from it. The walls of the complex had been built after the battle. Fresh mortar covered the joints. Water pipes cooled platforms where blue plates directed pressure toward the center.

The Scar lay open before them.

Isolde had expected a wild force. She found valves, written shifts, and numbered buckets.

Someone tended the fracture every day.

Oren opened a control cabinet.

“Records.”

There were five books. Each page listed the time, station, pressure, and response. The morning after West-9 shut down showed a drop in the fissure. The supervisor had ordered an increased load from the east.

Beren read the next line.

“The lesion is beginning to contract spontaneously. Compensate until operational width is restored.”

“Copy it,” Isolde said.

Oren laid thin paper over the page and rubbed it with charcoal. The letters appeared in reverse. Beren took the second book.

“Here are the conductors.”

Forty-two names. Thirty-one were still marked active. Five had died during the past week. Beside the six reserves was an entry from that morning: transferred east before synchronization.

Beren copied that line separately. Thirty-one people remained for them to find inside; they would have to keep searching for the other six.

“Where?” Isolde asked.

Oren pointed to three levels.

“There are ten stations in each needle and twelve in the lower chamber. Some will be empty. We’ll check them all.”

“Rheskan saw two below.”

“The other ten may be behind the link wall.”

A bell rang inside the complex.

The shift was changing.

Isolde put away the rubbings. They followed the spiral down to the first conductor room. Ten chairs surrounded a plate. Eight were occupied. Two people wore soldiers’ uniforms without insignia. The other six wore work clothes.

A technician monitored the pulses.

Beren went in with the crossbow.

“Step away from the table.”

The man raised his hands.

“Interrupt the phase and you’ll kill them.”

“When do the clamps open?”

“While the lines are in balance.”

“How long?”

“Three hours.”

Oren checked the gauges.

“He’s lying. Forty minutes.”

The technician looked at the cylinder.

“That belongs to West-9.”

“It did,” Beren said. “Nara got out alive.”

The man’s face changed at the name.

“Nara Vel?”

“Yes.”

“She’s my sister.”

Beren lowered the crossbow a little.

“She’s with families from the west. She can speak.”