“Good idea.” I triple tapped the earwig to get the right communicator and then said, “Blacklake, this is Nightwatch eight-three inbound from Winterborne with Commander Stone. Are you hearing me?”
Static was my only reply. I frowned and tried again. “Blacklake, this is Nightwatch eight-three, relaying a request for a status update from Commander Stone. Please reply.”
More static.
Trey swore and scraped a hand across his chin. “Either communications are out or they’re under attack and haven’t the time to reply.”
“I can’t see any indications of an attack on the sensors, Commander,” I said.
“Which might just mean they hit Blacklake at the same time as they did us. Can this thing go any faster?”
“No.”
He swore again and sat back. I didn’t say anything. I just concentrated on keeping the speeder on track and out of the way of anything that could rip its underbelly apart.
The faint glimmer of lights appeared on the horizon. Some were flickering, some weren’t, suggesting the source was both electrical and fire. The sensors began to beep softly—not because we were nearing our destination but because there was movement out there in the darkness. Adlin, but not huge swaths of them.
“What do you want me to do, Commander?”
“Swing around to the right,” he said, “and come into Blacklake from the other side of the river. The Adlin aren’t likely to have crossed it, no matter how desperate they are.”
I made a long sweeping curve to the right. While our course initially took us away from Blacklake, it was evident even from this distance that the outpost had taken a serious hammering. Smoke billowed from the gatehouse and, if the sheer size of the rubble that had been blown across not only the moat but also the ground beyond it was anything to go by, at least half it had come down. There were also fires raging within the outer bailey, the glow of them turning the skies above Blacklake a bloody red.
I hoped it wasn’t a sign of what was waiting for us within.
The glimmer of the Black River came into view, although in truth it was more a lake than a river in this section, given the outpost had dammed and widened it for defensive purposes.
We skimmed across its surface, the dark water pluming high on either side as I directed the vehicle to the rear of the settlement. The walls here were at least intact and there was no indication from the radar that the Adlin—or anyone else—had reached this side.
I eased the speed and engaged the stability struts. As they unfolded from the sides of the vehicle, Trey hit the release button and opened the door. The smell of smoke and burned flesh immediately hit, and my stomach churned. Whatever else had happened here, there’d been casualties.
Trey moved back to the weapons locker and opened it up. “A sword?”
I smiled at the disbelief in his voice and shut the engines down. “Trust me, it’s not a normal sword.”
“I can see that—it’s made of glass.”
“The same as my knife, which severed an Adlin’s leg with one quick cut.”
He looked skeptical, but handed me the weapon, a rifle, and an ammo loop. He took the other guns, strapping them to his legs before slinging the second rifle and ammo loop across his shoulders. With a glance at me to ensure I was ready, he exited.
I leapt across to the bank then followed him along the base of the wall to the smaller rear gatehouse. The acrid stench of smoke still stung the air, but it was the hush that was more unnerving. There were no alarms, no sound of voices. And maybe it was simply a matter of the sheer thickness and height of the walls stopping any such sound from reaching us, but it was nevertheless worrying.
Unlike the gateway at Winterborne, this was protected by a heavy metal portcullis. It was at least forty feet high and double that in width, which meant that even a sleuth of Adlin would have had trouble shifting it. There were no electronics visible, no obvious way to raise the gates or communicate with those inside, but beyond the portcullis, in the small covered area between it and the main gate, there were several cameras. Whether they were working or not was another matter.
“Do you want me to try hailing them again?”
He shook his head and squatted down in front of the portcullis. “Communications must be down. Otherwise, they’d have responded to our presence by now. Give me your knife.”
I did so. After brushing away the dirt and grime from one of the stones, he jammed the knife’s delicate edge into the small gap between the stones and twisted it sideways. There was a soft click, and the stone slid to one side, revealing an ancient-looking scanner panel.
“That,” I said, accepting my knife back, “is a rather ingenious hiding spot.”
“It was apparently the brainchild of a commander some two hundred years ago, after some of his men had been stranded by a lockdown and subsequently slaughtered by the Adlin.”
“The lake hadn’t been created at that point?”
“No. That came with my predecessor, after a particularly dry year left little more than a trickle of water in the river.”
It undoubtedly provided them with a secondary source of drinking water, too. “Will the scanner still work if comms and power are down?”
“It should. Both gates can be operated on emergency power.”
He placed his hand against the glass and then pressed one of the buttons on the side. After a moment, the screen came to life and his hand was scanned. A light flicked from red to green and the portcullis slowly began to open.
Trey closed the scanner, scuffed dirt back over the stone to cover its presence, then ducked under the portcullis and strode to the rear gate. It, like Winterborne’s, was made of black stone, though the large patches of lichen and moss that decorated the surface of this one suggested it wasn’t often in use. He hit a stone to the right of the doors and the portcullis dropped back into position with a clang. He pressed a second stone, and a noise not unlike a bass drum’s beat began to boom out from behind the main gate somewhere.
“A doorbell?” I said, amused.
He glanced at me. Though a smile twitched at his lips, it failed to ease the tension in his eyes. “It’s a door, so why shouldn’t it have a bell?”
I snorted softly, but was stopped from replying when a gruff voice said, “ID number?”
I glanced around but couldn’t immediately see where the demand was coming from.
“593714ST,” Trey said.
“Voice and number correlation. Good to have you back, Commander.”
With a heavy rumble, one of the big doors began to slide aside. There were armed soldiers on the other side, but they relaxed the minute they saw us.
“Hansen, report.” Trey stepped through the gap and began striding down a long, dark corridor lined with both weapon and oil slits. While both were considered to be rather old-fashioned these days, if they’d been in place at Winterborne, perhaps the Adlin wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did.
“The main gatehouse has been breached,” Hansen said as he fell in step beside the commander. “There are twenty-seven known casualties so far, and three dead. The inner wall remains secure and the Adlin have been repelled.”
Meaning, I hoped, that the bracelet was still here and safe.
“No civilian casualties?” Trey’s voice was clipped. He was asking about his daughter, even if he didn’t come out and say it.
“No, Commander. And your daughter is safe. We haven’t as yet given the all clear to the raid shelters though.”
The tension that had been holding Trey hostage almost immediately lifted. “And the gates? How were they breached?”
“A blast of some kind,” Hansen said. “Lieutenant Ruma has just sent a recon team out.”
“Under full cover, I hope.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“And communications?”
“Were partially destroyed when the gatehouse fell, and finished off by the Adlin.”
Trey grunted. “I want them restored as a priority, Hanson.”