Harlen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Harlen wiped the blood off his shoulder and looked at the winged woman who had put him in the dust. She stood at ease, wings folded, edges catching sun. He had a hundred questions and no reason to trust her yet. "Nine more Vael," he said. "For what. Who's we." "A camp," Elina said. "Fourteen of mine. Three others holding a fortress. A well. Lights. Walls that still stand." "That's a number, not a reason." "We fight the ones we can. We hide the ones who can't." She met his eyes. "Kids. Old people. A father with a girl. They don't shoot. They breathe. That's the reason." Harlen turned his head and spat pink into the sand. "Sounds slow." "It's slow. It works." She walked past him toward the weathered building against the long slab of rock. He followed because he wanted to keep her in front of him. The wings threw color across the broken adobe wall. "Show me," she said. She pointed at a grey car half-swallowed by drift sand. Dust caked its hood. The windows were blind with grit. "The thing on your face. Show me what it does." He unclamped the rig from his throat and set it over his mouth. It hummed against his teeth. He set it high, higher than he had tried before. He breathed. A rope of fire hit the car and stuck. Paint bubbled and ran. The hood sagged. Something inside popped, then caught, and the whole shell went orange. Heat pushed them both back a step. Harlen killed the flow and let the rig hang. Elina watched the car burn without blinking. "Good," she said. "Come with me. Bring that." "No." She turned. "I work alone," Harlen said. "I've worked alone since the first day. No one else moved. I moved. I keep moving." "You'll die alone too." "Probably." She didn't argue. She looked at his scorched collarbone, then at the burning car, then past him. Her face changed. Harlen turned. A column of black smoke climbed above the ridgeline east of the town. Thick. Fresh. Not brush. Something with fuel in it. "That's not mine," Elina said. "Not mine either." She folded her arms. "You burned me a car. I put you in the dirt. Call it even." "For what." "Walk to the smoke with me. Look. That's all. After that you go your way." Harlen watched the column bend in the wind. Smoke meant people, or Vael, or both. Either way there was something out there to kill or count. "One look," he said. "One look." She started walking. He clamped the rig back over his mouth and followed, six paces behind, close enough to see the shards in her wings shift red and blue as she moved. The car burned behind them. The smoke ahead kept climbing.