The two guards hauled Noak across the plateau and down into the step-well at the centre of the Guardhouse. They shackled his wrists to a pole and began their interrogation.

“Where’d you get this?” Harvill waved Noak’s dagger in front of his nose. “Come on. Where’d you steal it from?”

“If was a gift,” Noak said.

“A gift!” His captor mimicked. “You think I’m an idiot?”

Harvill tucked the knife into his belt. He smiled and leant close to Noak’s face, daring him to protest.

“What should we do with him?” Cooter asked from where he sat on the carved run of stairs, picking his nose.

Harvill turned to his friend. “I say we give him to the dogs for practice.”

“What if the captain wants to question him?”

“The captain doesn’t care about some scum Smoker, no matter what smarmy Burton says.”

“Please don’t set your dog on me,” Noak interrupted. “I was just doing what my boss told me to do.”

“Your boss?” Cooter flicked the crusted bogey from his nail. He wiped his finger on his shirt. “Who’s that then?”

“Dapper Jones.”

As Noak hoped, the name meant something.

“Hear that?” Cooter jumped from the steps and whispered, “Dapper’s paid up. You know how it works.”

“Yeah, but this piece of dog shit damaged one of the wheels and robbed us of our leisure money.”

“I didn’t mean to break it,” Noak said. “That was an accident.”

Harvill’s blow jarred his teeth.

“I’m telling you,” Harvill said, shaking his hand out following the punch. “Dapper don’t give a hot piss about his kind. He won’t even notice he’s missing.”

“Exactly!” Cooter said. “That’s why we’ve got to make Dapper notice. We kill him now and that’s it, your dog’s happy but we’re still skint as Smokers.”

“What do you think we should do then?”

“We take him with us on our next fee collection trip and tell Dapper he needs to double his payment, covering damages to the wheel and what not.”

Harvill frowned.

“Think about it,” Cooter said. “We take him to the Black Pit and we leave the Smoker there. Dapper can mete out a bit of Darkzone justice. Our hands are clean and our pockets twice as full.”

Harvill smiled. The action revealed a mouth full of crooked teeth. “You’re right. That is a good idea. We’ll chuck him in the Shower and get him after our patrol.”

They untied Noak from the post and tugged him forward. Noak stooped his shoulders and followed. They steered him down the zigzagging stairs deeper into the step-well and through a long tunnel on the third level.

“You’re in for a real treat,” Harvill said ahead of him, his voice echoing in the dim passage. “It’s not often your kind gets such an opportunity for a good long soaking.”

Cooter sniggered. “Not that you’ll appreciate it. Have you Smokers got allergies to water or something?”

The roar of the falls increased in intensity. The tunnel darkened and the guards turned on their head torches. The beams skittered across the stone walls as the two men laughed and joked.

“Here we are!” One of his captors shouted.

The tunnel ended with a large drop and view of a foaming white waterfall. Across the precipice, the smooth wall of the cave stretched upward for hundreds of metres. Cooter shoved him closer to the edge.

“Welcome to the outer guardhouse!”

Below him the falls crashed against hard bedrock, turning the water into a whirlpool that swirled around the base of the Guardhouse, carving at its foundations, sculpting the bottom narrower and narrower, before draining down some unseen hole.

A metal staircase lay flat against the rock to their left. Harvill spun a wheel. The stairs swung out over the gap to meet a ledge on the other side.

“Smokers first.”

Noak moved forward and the cables holding the staircase tightened. He walked, adjusting his balance to accommodate the bridge’s subtle shake and bounce. A fine spray coated his face and hands. The closer to the far side Noak travelled, the more droplets filled the air. Soon he was soaked. Moisture turned the metal stairs slick. He reached the end and stepped onto the wet ledge.

The guards reached hard ground seconds after him and their torch beams swept the space. The light fell on a handful of Smokers huddled together against the icy spray, each one cold and miserable. Noak scanned the group and his heart sank. He couldn’t see Finn.

“Well, hello fellas!” Cooter shoved Noak forward. “We’ve brought you a friend.”

None of the Smokers looked up, so Cooter smacked the closest on the back of the head. “Nothing to say? Well, that’s gratitude for you!”

“Come on, Cooter,” Harvill called from the metal stairs. “It’s colder than a lake trout’s titties up here.”

Cooter chortled. “We’ll leave you all to get acquainted.”

He shoved Noak again and this time Noak reacted. He grabbed the guard’s wrist, using the man’s momentum against him. Noak swept him off his feet and slammed his thick skull against the ground in one smooth movement. The guard went limp. Blood and water mixed on the dark stone ledge.

“Cooter!” Harvill shouted at the sight of his unconscious partner. He pulled Noak’s knife from his belt and charged. “You little shit!”

Noak dodged the first attack and leapt for the weapon at Cooter’s waist, he pulled the knife from its sheath and rolled back onto his feet in time to avoid another blow. Harvill swiped again, showing some skill with a blade. Noak ducked and returned with a punch to the man’s jaw. Harvill grunted and stumbled sideways.

They circled each other. Harvill came for him and Noak slashed at his arm. The guard jumped out of range and lost balance, slipping on the wet rock. Noak seized the advantage, falling on the man. They crashed to the ground.

Noak pressed his knee into the guard’s chest until he gasped for breath. He held the inferior blade to the man’s throat, pinning him in place, and turned his eyes gold with the Source so Harvill could see the monster lurking inside him.

The guard cried out. He dropped Noak’s knife and whimpered for mercy. Noak retrieved his weapon and held it up to the faint light to check for damage. When he was sure the blade was smooth and un-nicked, he brought it before Harvill’s face and leant close to the trembling man’s ear. He wanted to be heard over the sound of the waterfall.

“This knife you stole,” Noak said, “It was a gift. It was given to me by my master, a man more terrifying than you could ever hope to be. I won it through strength and endurance, a battle in which I cut down friends as easily as foes. I was ruthless and, in the end, I was the only one left standing.”

Noak dug the knife into the man’s throat, just a little. Tiny red beads formed on his neck, mixing with the water coating his skin.

“I don’t tell you this to boast,” Noak said. “I tell you this so you can understand, I will do whatever it takes to get what I want. Is that clear?”

Noak eased up on the knife, so the man could nod.

“Now, you’re keeping a very special prisoner in the Guardhouse. Where is he?”

Harvill hesitated. “We keep all our prisoners here, in the Shower.”

Noak frowned. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said he was a special prisoner.”

Harvill blinked and shook his head. “I can’t talk about him.”

“How about I use my very sharp knife to cut your tongue out and make those words true?”

“In the central building,” Harvill said. “They’ve converted the officers’ private dining room and kitchen into a cell.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Noak removed the key from around the unconscious Cooter’s neck and hauled Harvill to his feet. “Show me.”

They headed towards the stairs.

“What about us?” A voice called behind him.

Noak glanced over his shoulder. The prisoners had stirred and now formed a semi-circle around him on the ledge.

The largest of the group stepped forward. “You can’t leave us here.”

“I can’t take you with me either,” Noak said.

“We’re not asking to go with you. Just leave the bridge in place.”

Noak retreated to the steel stairs with the guard. “I’m sorry. You escape and the entire Guardhouse will know something’s wrong.”

The largest Smoker straightened. “You can’t make us stay.”

“I can,” Noak said, his voice as cold as the icy spray. “You put a foot on this bridge and I’ll cut you down as quickly as I did that guard over there, got it?”

There was a long pause, and the Smoker spat at his feet in a defiant display of understanding.

Noak stepped back onto the metal bridge with his hostage in toe. When he reached the tunnel on the other side, he rotated the small wheel sending the stairs swinging back to their vertical position, abandoning the Smokers to their prison of endless rain.

***

Elsa’s patience had evaporated. Hours. Melker had left her waiting for hours. She knew because she’d tracked the time with both her pocket watch and the clock above the mantlepiece.

Maxim had escorted her to Melker’s apartment. Their arrival had disturbed a large dog sleeping on a mound of blankets before a fireplace. The old animal had lifted its shaggy grey head, eyes glistening milky white in the light, and a low growl had rumbled in its chest.

“Quiet, Hercules!”

The hound’s muzzle had lowered back onto its paws at the cadet’s order. Maxim had turned to Elsa and had indicated she should sit in one of the chairs, a request Elsa had refused.

“Maxim, tell me, what does the captain want?”

The boy had avoided her gaze. “He would like to see you. But he's busy. Captain Melker asked that you wait while he deals with a minor problem.”

Elsa hadn’t been sure whether to be irritated or afraid.

“You’ll be quite comfortable here,” Maxim had said, again indicating she should take a seat. “No one will bother you.”

Elsa had shifted towards the door. “I don’t have time to stay. Please, Maxim, give me what is owed for the delivery and I’ll be on my way.”

Maxim had stepped between her and the exit, his pleasant demeanour gone. “The captain will see you when he’s finished.”

He had waited until Elsa backed away from the entrance. He had opened it, giving her a brief glimpse of another guard in the corridor beyond. “I’ll be outside should you require anything.” He had closed the door, locking it behind him.

At first, Elsa had lingered nervously by the door. She didn’t want to be surprised when Melker arrived. Hercule’s had grown bored at her stillness and returned to his spot before the fire. She had loosened her scarf and scanned the room. On the wall opposite the fireplace, there rested a collection of rifles. She pulled the closest rifle down and studied the craftsmanship. Melker kept the weapon polished and free of dust. She checked the chamber and found it empty. Was this the weapon that had stolen the life of the boy? Her stomach churned at the memory of blood and smoke. Elsa replaced the unloaded weapon alongside its neighbours.

The seconds ticked on with no sign of Melker and her feet started to hurt. Where was he?

A window at the back of the room let in some light. Elsa pressed her nose to the pane and watched a waterfall tumbling down into the dark precipice below. The drop made her feel giddy. She stepped back and noticed a smudge on Melker’s pristine glass. She left it, feeling a small sense of satisfaction at this defiance.

Elsa investigated the rest of the room. Two doors faced each other from opposite sides of the chamber. The one beside the fireplace was made from wood. She pushed against the expensive timber. It opened to reveal a large bed and a round wooden table with a single place setting.

The second doorway was made from a piece of wrought iron, patterned with the guard’s symbol. She tried the handle and found it locked. Elsa bent over to inspect the mechanism and saw it was complicated, but not impossible.

There was nothing else to explore in the room. Nothing to do but wait. Elsa placed her ear to the door. She could hear Maxim and the guard in the hall beyond. She pounded on the timber until they paused in their conversation.

“Hey! How long are you going to keep me waiting?”

Silence.

A moment later, the chatter continued. Elsa smacked the door in anger and the light bulb above her flickered. Hercules lifted his head, unsettled. His scruffy muzzle turned her way, his cloudy-white eyes accusing.

“Don’t look at me,” she told him. “I don’t control the power.”

The dog put his head back onto his paws and gave a wheezy sigh.

Elsa started to pace, but her movement only served to increase her frustration.

“Melker’s punishing me,” she said. “He’s upset because I made him wait with my mother and this is his revenge. Well, I’ve had enough.”

Elsa didn’t really have a plan. She didn’t think beyond unlocking the door. Maybe she could sneak past the guards, run while their backs were turned. And if she couldn’t, she would simply give the men a piece of her mind. Elsa might be Bad Seed, but she was also a Junker’s apprentice and according to her uncle that counted for something.

Elsa inspected the lock. It was a simple mechanism and she’d been picking locks since she was a child. She opened her tool belt and selected the instruments she needed. The task immediately made her feel calmer, more in control. She found the right tension and the tumblers turned, one by one. The lock clicked into place. With a smug smile, she closed her hands around the cold metal handle.

In the same moment the door shook, a large mass hitting it hard on the other side. The force caused the door to swing inward, knocking Elsa to the ground. A guard tumbled into the room and slumped face down on the floor before her feet. Elsa’s confusion made her slow to react.

Hercules growled behind her, his head lowered, hackles sharp and straight. He barked as a shadow fell over Elsa. Bare feet blocked the doorway.

She scrambled back and grabbed the poker from the fireplace. Elsa stood and pointed it at the intruder, a man who should have been outside, on the highest terrace of the step-well with his hands cuffed to a pole.

The prisoner held up his palms. “Easy, there.”

Gone was all signs of cowardice and weakness. She’d been right to question his appearance. This man was no Smoker.

Elsa opened her mouth to shout for the guards. The prisoner dashed across the room and clamped his hand across her mouth before any sound could escape. His eyes, clear blue, met hers and the scream died.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said.

Hercules snarled and leapt at her attacker. The old combat dog went for the man’s throat. The prisoner pushed Elsa out of the way to repel the assault. He knocked the hound back, hard enough to make the animal whimper.

Do something!

Elsa still had the poker in her hand. She brought the makeshift weapon down on the prisoner’s back. She felt the impact vibrate along the iron rod and up her arms, but rather than collapse, the man only grunted and gave her an irritated glance.

“Enough!” He grabbed Hercules around the collar and heaved the dog off the floor. He half-dragged, half-wrestled the snapping animal into the next room. The prisoner slammed the door and leant against it, both palms pressed to the wood. On the other side, Hercules continued to throw himself against the door.

The man let out a long breath and inspected the damage. The dog had left deep scratches across his arms and face. Blood showed on his tanned skin. He pushed from the door and lifted his shirt to check his torso. Elsa used the man’s distraction to edge towards the hallway.

“Don’t move!” He said, without looking up. “You won’t make it, I promise you.”

She was only a few metres away from the door. She could get there before him.

“You won’t,” he said, again reading her intent without looking at her. He massaged his shoulder where she’d struck him. “No matter how ruthless you are with your hits, I can’t let you leave this room.”

“This is a Guardhouse.” Elsa inched another small step towards the door. “There are hundreds of armed men in this building and in the courtyard outside.”

“I told you, you’ve nothing to fear.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust an escaped prisoner pretending to be a Smoker.”

The man frowned. “You speak of trust, but you’re in the Captain’s apartments. Are you his woman?”

Elsa bristled at the question. “How’s that your business?”

The man’s eyes seemed to flash from blue to yellow. Elsa thought it was a trick of the light, but the sight unnerved her and in fear she told him the truth.

“I’m not Melker’s. Nor am I anyone else’s woman but my own, for that matter.”

The stranger’s agitation only seemed to increase with her answer. “Does he pay you to see him?”

She would have hit him with the poker a second time if he were close enough.

“If you’re asking me whether I’m a whore, the answer is no. I don’t need to sell my body for tokens. My master sent me here to deliver junk to the Guardhouse. That’s the only service I provide.”

“Junk,” the man said. His eyes widened. “You’re the Junker’s apprentice?”

“I’m Amos Jefferson’s apprentice, yes. How do you know my uncle? Are you a Citizen?”

Elsa searched his face. There was something familiar about him, but her mind couldn’t quite latch onto any details. She had the impression she’d seen him in front of the Commerce Chambers… or was it the Science Guild?

The man looked around the room. “This is an odd place for a delivery.”

Elsa shrugged. “I’m here at Captain Melker’s request and was on my way out when you burst in.”

“So, you’re not here by choice?”

“No.”

The prisoner settled.

He held out his hands in supplication and said, “Please, stay.”

He walked towards the door. He kept his movements slow and steady to seem unthreatening and crouched beside the unconscious guard to search his pockets. The prisoner pulled a silver key from a cord around the man’s neck and edged along the outside of the room to the steel door. He inserted the key into the lock.

“That’s not going to work,” Elsa said. “It’s the wrong type for that door.”

He turned the key left then right. When it failed, he cursed. The prisoner hurried to the corridor and pulled Cadet Maxim inside. He rolled the limp body over and checked his pockets. Elsa moved closer, still keeping the armchair between them.

“Is he dead?” She asked.

“Just unconscious.”

The prisoner found another key and returned to the lock. It too failed. He threw it to the ground.

Above them, the bulbs began another round of flickering. The light brightened and faded. Somewhere in the Guardhouse, something was using a great deal of electricity.

“What did you say?”

Elsa hadn’t realised she’d spoken out loud.

He pointed to the bulb. “You must know something.”

There was a quiet desperation in his voice that had her responding.

“I’m just guessing,” she said. “Something’s draining the power to this section of the Guardhouse.”

“You are an expert in such things?”

“I know a few things,” Elsa admitted.

“Please. Put down the weapon and shut the door.”

Elsa hesitated.

“Look, I’m just asking you to listen. Afterwards, if you still want to go, I won’t stop you. See, I’ll move over here, by the window, and you can move closer to the exit. That should give you a fighting chance if I prove to be a liar.”

Elsa examined him from his short blonde hair down to his damp clothes and bare feet. He seemed uncomfortable with her appraisal and rolled his shoulders. Something in that small action convinced her to do as he asked.

Elsa crossed the room towards the door and the prisoner let out a deep breath as it clicked shut. She turned around to face him.

“I’ll listen,” she said. “But I’m keeping the poker.”