Home > Endurance (Razorland #1.5)(13)

Endurance (Razorland #1.5)(13)
Author: Ann Aguirre

He nodded. “That’s the best part, even if the rest is terrifying.”

“But you said you’d tell me why.”

“You’re the only person who ever asked my opinion on anything. Now or then.” With a dark look, he mimicked the elder, “’Shut up, Stone. Breeders don’t need to think.’”

“And that’s why? Because I notice you have a mind as well as a fine, strong body?” The hot feeling in her cheeks increased.

As a Builder, she wasn’t supposed to notice him like that, but she had. Maybe he would laugh at the idea she’d been gazing at him with these feelings for much longer than he’d been aware of her. They were so alone, and if he didn’t feel the same, everything would be ruined.

But his face fell into pensive lines, lit with gladness that she saw him as more than anyone else ever had. At least, she guessed that was how he felt, because it echoed her own state of mind perfectly. With him, she wasn’t just an imperfect Builder. She could be anything with him.

“You make me feel like a whole person.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Then he took up their belongings and their brat, and they went on, together.

Chapter 12

Two smaller tunnels led up more stairs. Then more. Stone didn’t know how he felt about that; he expected to emerge into the fire that would burn the skin from his bones. Thimble clung to his hand as if his presence gave her courage, but she was moving slower now. Her leg dragged.

She can’t go on much longer.

This was a hallway, not a tunnel. Stone didn’t know why he felt sure of that when he’d only seen pictures from the old world, but the walls were smoother. Polished. They gleamed in the torchlight. But before he could explore more, a Freak burst through the doorway. It didn’t hesitate this time. It had already scouted them twice before, and it had been mustering its strength while the journey drained theirs. The beast hurtled forward, using its momentum to knock Stone back. He didn’t have the weapon; Thimble was using it as a walking stick, and he had Boy23 cradled in one arm. Helpless to fight with any force, he reeled into the wall, shielding the brat with his chest.

Thimble screamed. Stone curled his hand into a fist and slammed it backward, but he couldn’t see behind him, and he didn’t dare turn. Not if it meant the Freak would have a shot at hurting Boy23, who cried in soft little huffs of breath. This was strategy. The Freak had watched them and learned their behavior patterns. It had timed its strike perfectly, attacking when he was tired and carrying his brat. Fortunately, the packs got in the beast’s way and it tore at their possessions, trying to get at his flesh.

Items dropped out, clattering to the floor. Teeth sank into his back. Claws raked him.

And then the Freak shrieked. He spun then, just in time to see Thimble skewer it with the weapon. She had shoved the blade up through its chin, the easiest angle of attack for a girl her size. She leaned over the monster, still clutching the haft, as tears streamed down her dirty cheeks.

“I

couldn’t let

how bad did it hurt you?”

He had some pain in his back, but the blood trickled instead of gushed. “I’ll live. Can you take him for me?”

“Of course.” At that request, she regained some of her composure.

Thimble took the brat and cuddled him, whispering reassurance while he dragged the corpse back the way they’d come. He tossed it down the steps into the bone room and then returned. She was picking up their scattered belongings.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She huffed out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know if I could do that, but

yes. I am.”

“Let’s see if we can find a place to rest.”

Unlike the passages down below, these halls had doors set at regular distances. He counted twenty paces, and then there was another one on the left or right. They were strong, thick, and better kept than the ones down below. Clean. They had letters and numbers on them, but he’d never bothered much with those lessons. Breeders didn’t go anywhere, and they didn’t make anything. There was no reason he had to understand what words meant. So he waited for her to read them aloud.

“Markowitz, sublevel three-F.”

She proceeded to the next one. “Shelley, sublevel three-E.” More words of the same type followed, but they meant nothing to him. When they approached the sixth one, something astonishing happened.

The door opened.

He stepped back quickly. It slid closed.

“It knows we’re here,” Thimble whispered, eyes wide.

Stone knew of nothing that could explain behavior like this from a door. Sometimes, when the Wordkeeper was in a good mood, he read stories to the brats from the archives. There had been one book about magic, where brats could do magic, and they went to a special school to learn how. Maybe it hadn’t been just a made-up thing, like all the brats said. Maybe magic was real. To test the door, he stepped closer again. It swished open.

Not an accident.

“Do you think it’s magic?” he asked Thimble.

She shook her head. “I think it’s science.”

That meant nothing to him. “What?”

“You know how I build things, and they work, even if you don’t understand why?”

He nodded.

“The door’s like that. Someone built it

we just don’t know how.”

“Well, should we go in?” he asked.

“It seems to want us to.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“We’d smell it if there were any Freaks in there.”

That was true. And nothing dreadful had jumped out either time the door opened. There had been no disgusting stench, as if something had died. He hoped there were no more Freaks following them, but just in case, they needed to find somewhere safe to rest and eat, a place where Thimble could tend the wounds on his back. Gathering his nerve, Stone stepped through the doorway and found a lost world. These relics, so perfectly preserved, represented a windfall of unimaginable proportions. Beside him, Thimble gasped in wonder.

The space was all one room, but five times larger than they were allotted for sleeping quarters. In his quest for answers about what purpose this place had served, he found a tall, soft pallet big enough for two people to rest comfortably, along with a sitting area. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors sat neatly on their shelves. Some of the things he had no name for, but he could tell their use by the way they looked; these were furnishings, but fancier than anything he’d ever seen. The fabrics were smooth and soft, materials sleek and shining.

The door closed behind them as they moved away from it. He couldn’t find a lock anywhere.

Thimble was already exploring the place, opening cupboards and exclaiming as she found tins of food, bottles of water. These were old, but they had scavenged such things before and taken no harm from using them. You could usually tell when you opened it if the contents had gone bad.

   
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