“Wake up, men! Out of your bunks! We’ll make Manolia in two hours!”

Ryn opened his eyes to the grubby underside of the bunk above which he saw through a helmet visor. It took him a few moments to remember that he was posing as an Imperial soldier on a train bound for Manolia. He realised he had slept without having a nightmare for the first time in many days.

“Come on, up you get, maggots!” yelled the man outside again, outside their own compartment door now, banging on it so that it rattled noisily.

Hold on. I recognise that voice. Deep. Commanding. Superior.

Ryn got up and opened the door.

General Vorr stood in his black armour, flame-red hair on display, gauntleted hand suspended in the air from knocking on their door.

He hadn’t needed to have a nightmare in his sleep. His nightmare had come to his waking day.

Ryn stared at him in surprise.

Vorr raised an eyebrow with brazen nonchalance. “Good to see you up already, soldier.” A pause. “What is it? What do you want?”

Hot fury filled Ryn’s lungs. “To see you dead!” he shouted, and punched the general in the face.

Vorr staggered back and crashed into the wall behind him, clutching his nose. He was so big the whole carriage shook.

Ryn realised that he had blown their cover, but he didn’t care.

Vorr was up again, . the beginnings of a bruise coming through under his eye. Ryn’s hand had lit on fire when he punched the general, but it hadn’t done anything. That’s right. Immune to fire.

The general stared at him, apoplectic. “Dissenter! Turncoat!”

Ryn drew his sword and leapt at Vorr, swinging wildly at his head.

Vorr got his arm up and the sword smashed off the black plate of his armour, sending painful reverberations down Ryn’s arms.

Undeterred, Ryn drew back and threw strike after strike at the general, trying to split his head.

But the huge man was also fast. Again and again he got his arms up in the way of Ryn’s blows so they deflected uselessly off the black carapace, making loud clangs and lighting a few sparks.

And then Vorr caught Ryn’s hand.

Ryn yelped as pain lanced through his arm. The general twisted it down and around into an odd position. His sword clattered on the ground.

Ryn tried to light another fireball in his left hand but the pain in his right arm was so great he couldn't focus properly. He just ended up flailing his left arm uselessly against Vorr’s side. The general didn’t even seem to notice.

“What are you doing, soldier?” Vorr snarled in Ryn’s face, so close now Ryn could see the red of his irises. “Are you a dissenter, or just a really terrible assassin?”

Shouts were coming from the compartment behind Ryn but he couldn’t make them out. Footsteps all around—other soldiers flocking to the general’s side.

Vorr yanked Ryn’s helmet off his head.

Ryn opened his eyes and stared hatred at Vorr’s horrible round face.

“You again!” said Vorr. “The mongrel from Efstan, who turned up in Ast too! You are becoming very irritating. How did you infiltrate this train? Are there others with you?”

Malice prickled in Ryn’s lungs. The only thing he was afraid of was that he would die now without first being able to take revenge on this man who had killed his parents.

In answer, he spat in Vorr’s face.

Vorr saw it coming and merely tilted his head to one side so that the spit went over his shoulder.

“Miserable little piece of poodoo,” said Vorr.

Ryn’s stomach flared with pain and the air rushed out of him. He fell backwards onto the floor and curled up at once. Vorr had punched him hard in the gut. It hurt like all the hells, even through his armour. The general was so strong...

Vorr stood over him so that Ryn could saw his steel-capped boots and boomed, “Everyone in this carriage remove your helmets!”

Ryn scrunched his eyes up in expectation. What have I done?

“Come on!” Vorr bellowed into the compartment. “All of you!”

Ryn expected a noise of surprise or rage from the general, but none came.

“Good,” said Vorr.

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What?

Ryn dared to open his eyes and twist round a bit. Cid and Elrann had taken off their helmets. So had the two soldiers who had shared their compartment the night before. But Nuthea, Sagar and Vish were nowhere to be seen.

“If there are more of them and they are intelligent,” said Vorr, “they will have spread themselves throughout the train to avoid detection. I don’t know why this one gave himself away. I can’t imagine he really thought he could harm me. I am beginning to think he must be soft in the head.”

Tremendous pain bloomed on the back of Ryn’s head and he skidded across the compartment, crashing into the far wall. He moaned and lay prone, spasms of pain shooting up and down his spine. This time Vorr had kicked him across the room.

“General, sir?” said one of the soldiers quiveringly. Tilbrook, from last night.

“What?” Vorr snapped..

“There were two more soldiers in the compartment with us last night...and they...they never took off their helmets either…”

“Why didn’t you challenge them?”

“I...I don’t know, sir… There was a Shadowfinger with them…”

“A Shadowfinger? Which damned one?”

“Shadowfinger Vish, sir. He said he had been redeployed last-minute to Manolia.”

Vorr was silent a moment.

Then: “You,” he said. “I don’t recognise you. You’re a bit old to be serving with the 66th division, aren’t you?”

“No sir,” said Cid’s voice, remarkably calm. “Name’s Tarn. Tarn Martenson. I transferred to the 66th to see some more action before I leave service. Beg your pardon, sir, but I’m not that much older than Valun here--”

“Shut up,” said Vorr, “I didn’t ask for your life story. Seargent Dirk!” he called.

Hurried footsteps. “Yes sir?” A new voice.

“There are at least two interlopers dressed as soldiers aboard this train with bounties on their heads, and Shadowfinger Vish is here too. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I want them all found immediately. Order all units to remove their helmets. I want these vermin rounded up now.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“GO!”

More hurried footsteps, fading.

“You,” said Vorr, “with me, now. Bring the Efstanish.”

“Yes sir,” said Cid.

Cid pulled Ryn up, drew his sword and gestured with it for Ryn to follow Vorr. “Walk, scumbag,” he said with convincing animosity, playing his part well. Gods, I hope he is playing a part. Ryn had a sudden flash of doubt as to whether he could really trust Cid or not. But no...Cid had healed him when he had nearly died. Cid had told them an elaborate story about trying to track down the Jewels with other people once before, with too many corroborating details for it be made up. Cid had been training him in swordfighting. Cid was on his side.

Vorr bellowed into each compartment they came to for everyone to take their helmets off, as he led Ryn and Cid down the length of the train.

How do I get out of this? Sagar won’t want to come back for me. He didn’t before. Will Nuthea…?

Butterflies crashed into one another in Ryn’s stomach.

They went through a door into another carriage.

This one was different, open plan, not separated into compartments, with red carpet and purple curtains. A number of black-armoured soldiers sat on cushioned leather chairs. But already none of these wore helmets. Other officers. Through the windows of the carriage the landscape of Imfis—was it still Imfis?—streamed by in the brightening morning sunlight, increasingly hilly and mountainous.

“Ten-SHUN!” Vorr yelled.

The officers all shot up out of their seats and snapped into salutes, barely hiding confused frowns.

“At ease,” Vorr said. “Listen closely. I’ve found an infiltrator on this train.” He inclined his head briefly towards Ryn. “A boy from the Efstanish town that was harbouring the Ruby. He is Jewel-touched, but only by that one, so he will not be able to hurt any of you. He is working with a Manolian girl and an Imfisi skypirate, both Jewel-touched too, with lightning and wind respectively, but we have not yet located them.” More frowns rippled across the officers’ faces. “They may be on this train too.” The frowns deepened. “Sergeant Entra!”

“Yes sir!” said one of the nearest officers, snapping out another quick salute.

“Take Fell and Buntz and search the train. Command all personnel to remove their helmets and join you in the search. The Manolian is undisguisably female. The Imfisi is blind in one eye and has an air of moronic insolence. If they are on this train they will not be able to conceal themselves for very long. Bring me them alive, if you can.”

“Yes sir!” Sergeant Entra barked and hurried off out of the carriage with two other men.

“Shadowfinger Elpis!” said Vorr.

“Sir.”

Even amidst his growing fear Ryn’s head rocked back with surprise at hearing the voice of a woman. From near the back of the carriage a figure stepped forward wrapped all in black, like Vish, only shorter and unmistakably a woman from her hips and bust. Her face did not give her away as such because she wore a mask with a grotesque face painted on it--a wide-smiling caricature of a woman with rosy red cheeks and exaggerated eyelashes on a white enamel backdrop.

“I have been informed that Shadowfinger Vish is aboard this train,” Vorr said to the woman. “What he is doing here I do not know. Find him and liase with him at once to ascertain what is going on. I suspect that he may have tracked the interlopers here undercover, only I found them first, but I need to be certain. Go now.”

“Yes, General,” said the woman. She picked up a rolled-up length of chain that had been on the floor next to where she had been sitting and walked out of the carriage. As the Shadowfinger walked past Ryn, the air seemed to grow momentarily colder. A shiver ran up his spine.

That left about seven men in the carriage looking at Vorr like a litter of nervous puppies.

“The rest of you, go over the Manolian invasion plan again and ensure that you have perfectly memorised every detail while I interrogate this whelp.” Ryn gulped. “We will no doubt find any remaining interlopers soon, and the operation will go ahead as planned. Be ready.”

“Yes, General!” the remaining officers chanted as one, producing another flurry of salutes.

“Good,” said Vorr. “Get to it.” He signalled to Cid. “You. With me.”

Cid pushed Ryn after Vorr and the two of them followed him down the rest of the carriage and through another door. This carriage was plush and comfortable like the previous with the same fancy carpet and curtains, but instead of seats it contained a series of small beds alongside each wall. There was another exit at the far end.

As soon as the door had closed behind them Vorr grabbed Ryn and threw him onto the floor. Ryn went down with a grunt, falling face-down on the carpet. His hand, his head and his back already ached, but somehow he knew the worst was yet to come. A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach and he began to tremble as he stared at the red carpet beneath him.

“You, soldier, stand guard outside the door,” Vorr said to Cid. “Don’t admit anyone unless they have news of the Shadowfinger or other rebels being discovered.”

“Yes sir,” Ryn heard Cid say, before the sound of the door clicking open and shut again.

Vorr said nothing for a moment.

Chukkachukkachukkachukkachukka.

Then Ryn became aware of the sound of Vorr’s breathing. It was deep, coming from the general’s nostrils, and so loud that he could hear it even over the sound of the traveling train. The breaths were getting louder still, and slightly faster, and now closer, as Vorr stepped nearer and stood over Ryn.