From a deep hollow high on the cave wall, Noak gazed down to the Night Port. He tracked the guards through a fine layer of smoke. They swaggered along the piers in their neat black uniforms, intimidating the shabby men and women waiting there, their dogs and weapons giving them false confidence.

Roan crouched beside him. “I never thought I’d see this place again.”

Neither had Noak. He wasn’t happy to be back.

“Do you think Finn made it across?”

Noak shrugged and scanned the charcoal depths of the lake. A decade ago, he would have said no. Back then, when he’d glimpsed the decaying port on his way to the surface, it was still reeling from the latest uprising. The lake shore was packed with Smokers, men and women whose fear of the darkness had overridden their terror of the sentry tower spotlights. It was a miserable scene. There’d been few boats to Haven and no way for them to reach the surface. The wretched figures on the beach, huddled around their smoky fires, had been trapped.

Not so now. Since his arrival, Noak had counted a dozen boats travelling a regular route across the lake. Finn could have taken any one of them to reach Haven.

“Cohen gave us ten days,” Roan said. “It took us two just to get here. How are we going to find Finn in time?”

“I have no idea.”

Roan rocked back on his heels. “No idea?”

“I don’t know why you’re worried,” Noak said. “This is my mission. If we fail, Cohen’s punishment will be for me alone.”

Roan shifted forward to examine the port again. “This is madness. Why would Finn even come here?”

“He’ll have his reasons,” Noak said. “As strange as they might seem to us.”

“If only we’d gone after him straight away,” Roan said. “None of this would have happened.”

The frustrating truth was no one had noticed Finn missing from the pack for several hours after they’d left Dulwa. When they finally did notice, they hadn’t taken his disappearance seriously. They’d all assumed he was moping somewhere in the woods. Too late, Noak had sent Roan and Ysolde after him. They’d returned with the disturbing news that Finn had followed the old man into the mountain, a place their master, Cohen, had forbidden Blood Wolves from going.

Desperate, Noak had sought permission to travel underground. He’d told Cohen he intended to spy on the Undergrounders, gathering information on their strengths and weaknesses. He’d manipulated Cohen into agreeing, all the while concealing his real motive. Cohen had eventually given his consent, but only after Noak had promised to report back in ten days’ time. It was clear that Noak’s eagerness to return to his childhood home had raised doubts in Cohen’s mind about his loyalty. Noak had left the Blood Wolves’ encampment with an uncomfortable feeling his carefully laid plans were about to be disrupted.

“Look.” Roan nudged Noak to get his attention. “Ysolde’s back.”

The Blood Wolf navigated the abandoned boats and jetties below, slipping from shadow to shadow until she came to the cave wall. Quick and agile, Ysolde scaled the pockmarked surface. Noak pulled her the last few metres into the tiny cave.

“Well?”

“The Undergrounders have him,” Ysolde said, eyes furious.

“Where?”

“The Guardhouse.” She picked out an opening in the cave wall across from them. Noak counted two guards at the entrance.

Roan smiled. “Three against two. The odds are in our favour.”

“Those guards are just the beginning,” Ysolde said, rubbing her chest where it pained her. “The tunnel ends on a precipice. There’s a bridge, but the guards can extend and retract it at will. Assuming we could sneak past the men and their dogs, how would we cross the gap without alerting those within?”

Noak studied the rock face opposite. “There must be another way.”

“We should split up,” Roan said, “gather more intelligence. With three pairs of ears, we are bound to hear something of use.”

Ysolde paced, her agitation magnified in the tight space. “No more listening! It’s a waste of time. These people are tight-lipped and wary of strangers, I’ve found out all I can from eavesdropping.”

She pointed to the people on the path below, who disappeared into a tunnel beneath them. “There’s a place called the Alley. It’s not far from here. Let me go there, Noak. Let me question these people my way. I will get the information we want.”

“We need someone whose methods are less…final.”

Ysolde frowned. “I can be gentle when I have to be.”

Roan snorted, earning Ysolde’s glare.

“I’ll go,” Noak said.

Ysolde crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think you’ll have better luck?”

Noak untied the heavy pouch from his belt and chucked it to Ysolde. She peered into the cloth bag and pulled out a gold coin stamped with an oak tree and sun.

“Lumieres, how did you get these?”

“Leftovers from my old life.”

Ysolde dropped the coin back into the pouch and tightened the cord. “What if buying them doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll do it your way, Ysolde.”

“You’ll hurt them?” She asked. “Without hesitation?”

He nodded and Ysolde seemed satisfied. She placed the coin pouch onto his upturned palm. “Go then.”

Noak shouldered his pack and moved to the edge of their hiding place.

“Watch the tunnel entrance,” he said to Roan. “If I can’t find a way to bring Finn out myself, then I will find a way to give you access to that bridge.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Ysolde had turned her attention back to the guards.

“We’ll get him back,” Noak said.

“If something happens to my brother, there is nowhere in this blasted cave system those guards will be able to hide from me.” She pinned him with her cold grey eyes. “I will make every single one of them pay.”

***

“What are you?”

The captain had asked Finn that same question over and over.

He now rose from the seat opposite Finn and his impatient fingers tapped against the chair’s metal spine, the black leather of his gloves muffling the sound.

“If you tell me what I want to know, I can help you.”

The guards had found his hiding place beneath the pier. Finn had kept to the shadows and swum through the water to mask his scent, but they’d noticed him anyway. He had climbed onto the main platform and ran for the ferry, but the cold water had cramped his muscles. He hadn’t been quick enough.

The men in black uniforms had surrounded him. They had hurled abuse, promising all manner of punishments, and their dogs had howled for his blood. Finn had been terrified, but Noak’s words had come to him.

Be strong. Be fluid. Be alert.

He had fought the guards with his knife and his fists, even as they rushed at him in groups of three, even as they had used their dogs to harry him. He had been winning, but his luck had changed with a single bullet.

At first, he had felt no pain, just a loud bang that had punched his ears. Then a sudden weakness had overcame his limbs. His eyesight had blurred. Finn had fallen to his knees. A bright red wound had bloomed on the right side of his chest. He had touched it with a sense of disbelief.

He had lost.

The dark-haired captain had crouched before him.

“You’re dying,” he had said, as if Finn had asked the question. “Don’t be scared. You’re going to a better place.”

Ice had spread through his limbs, the sensation a hundred times worse than the cold lake. Finn had been fading. Closing his eyes, he had taken one final breath and done what he had always been forbidden to do. He had opened himself up to the Leashworm and he had drawn on the Source.

It had been a risk, but it had paid off. He had healed his wound. He had survived.

He had also revealed his ability to the enemy.

Captain Melker had ordered his men to take Finn. They had brought him to a leaking storage room, deep in the Guardhouse. His captors had pushed aside old barrels and tin buckets to clear space and forced Finn onto a rickety stool in the corner of the room. His hands and feet were chained with metal too thick to break.

Noak could break it, a little voice in his head whispered, and Finn’s shame grew. The voice continued that Noak would never have gotten himself caught. He wouldn’t have panicked and healed himself in front of the enemy, like Finn had. Noak would have waited until the last minute and let them push his dying body into the lake. Only then would he have called on the Leashworm, healed himself with the Source and returned stronger.

“This doesn’t have to get unpleasant,” the captain said.

Finn kept silent and the man paused in his questions, giving him a slight reprieve. Finn’s thoughts wandered and his mind replayed his time in the underground, a dark place stinking of death and mould. Up until now, he’d believed the Valley was the worst place in the world, but he’d changed his mind. This place was much, much worse. It was full of dark shadows and dark-hearted people.

Resting his head against the stone wall, Finn counted the endless dripping of water as it hit the thick metal base of a stew pot. He wondered how many drops would fall before his captor felt the urge to ask another question. He gave him less than twenty.

“I’m losing my patience,” the captain said, on the eighteenth drip. “Tell me how you healed yourself and I’ll make sure you’re cared for. Why are you smiling? Do you find your situation funny?”

There was no point in explaining the joke. The man before him had no sense of humour. Neither did the two guards standing in the shadows.

The captain strode across the room. Finn watched the man’s shining black boots glisten in the torchlight. He picked up Finn’s coat, pinching the material between gloved fingers.

“You are not from here.” He studied the fur and other pieces of material patching the holes and lining the inside. “My men should have picked you out from the crowd the moment you entered my Night Port. Either you are particularly skilled, or they’re getting lazy. Which is it?”

The silence grew. The captain dropped the coat and sat back down.

“The Coin Keeper tells me you were trying to get across the lake. Why? What was your aim?”

He took out Finn’s knife.

“You fought well with this. You were trained to fight, that much is obvious. I want to know who trained you.”

He spun the handle, his black eyes fixed on Finn’s face.

“Talk to me, boy. I will reward your cooperation.”

The captain held the knife on his gloved palm, testing the balance, and took time to study the carved hilt.

“I can see you value this weapon. You’ve cared for it well. The blade is sharp and the handle polished. You refused to part with it for money, preferring to risk your life sneaking onto the ferry. Was it from someone else like you?” The knife edge glinted. “Another surface freak?”

Finn shut his eyes to block out the man’s face.

“You are a freak, you know that don’t you? One minute you’re haemorrhaging before my eyes and the next you’re whole again. Such a thing should not be possible and yet, here you are. It makes me curious.”

The man slid his chair closer. The metal legs screeched across the stone.

“If I cut you, would it heal just as your other wounds have?”

The sharp point of the knife pricked his chest and Finn opened his eyes.

“What if I stabbed you, to the hilt, and left the blade in? Would you heal around it, or would you slowly bleed to death?” The man moved the knife before Finn’s face. “And what if I took an eye? Could you regrow something like that? I imagine the pain would be very great. How long before you passed out?”

The knife tip touched Finn’s cheek. He braced himself for the coming pain. Hopefully, he’d pass out quickly. Hopefully, the Leashworm wouldn’t take over when he did. The knife tip cut his skin. Panic shot through him. The Leashworm felt like barbed wire in his chest. A metal door squealed open and flooded the corridor outside his makeshift cell with yellow light. Footsteps headed towards him.

“Time’s up,” his captor said and withdrew the knife.

Finn sagged against his chains.

The captain headed to the base of the stone steps. A figure appeared in the doorway, a tall woman in a dark gown.

“Show me the subject,” she said.

The captain grabbed the torch from the wall and swung it close to Finn’s face. Finn tried not to shrink from the heat licking at his skin and failed. The woman observed him for a very long time.

“You’re sure he’s not one of our children?” She asked. “He’s within the age range.”

“Certain.”

“The location of the gunshot wound. Show it to me.”

The man reached forward and grabbed Finn’s torn and bloodied shirt. He tugged back the ripped material, exposing Finn’s bony, white chest. A puckered pin scar was all that remained of the bullet wound. Again, the woman examined him.

“You are positive he sustained a fatal injury?”

“Yes.”

The woman nodded. “Well, Captain, you have my attention.”

The chains clinked as the captain dropped Finn’s arm. “I want to know what makes him so powerful. Not just his ability to heal, but his strength and speed as well. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” the woman said. “I have a boat waiting to take us back to Haven.”

The captain shook his head. “The boy stays here. No one else is to know about him until I have the information I want.”

“Impossible.”

The captain shrugged. “Alright. I will ask another from the Science Guild to aid me.”

One of the guards moved up the stairs to see the woman out. She held up her palm. “Wait. I will do it.”

The captain nodded.

A feeling of dread spread within Finn, again prodding the Leashworm curled deep within his chest into painful spasms. What were they planning to do to him? The Source was severely depleted. Finn had already taken most of it to heal the bullet wound. If he took much more, the balance would be destroyed. The Leashworm would take advantage. Finn wouldn’t be able to fight it.

“What of my equipment?” The woman asked, oblivious to Finn’s silent panic.

“You will have to make do with what we provide,” the captain said.

“A rudimentary laboratory means rudimentary experiments.”

“So be it.”

Finn started to fight against his chains. He had to escape!

The captain waved to one of his guards. The man came at Finn and there was no way to dodge the fist aimed at his head.