Chapter 14:
The Day Before
Glory of Ash
The fistfight was still going when Luke got there.
Two men rolling in the mud outside the ration point. A woman screaming. Someone's elbow connected with someone else's nose—blood sprayed, black in the grey light. The crowd didn't pull them apart. The crowd watched.
Luke pushed through.
"Hey."
No one looked at him.
He grabbed the bigger man's shoulder. "Hey."
The man shoved him off. Hard. Luke's back hit the wall. His chest seized—cough, wet, burning. He doubled over.
The fight kept going.
A Keeper stood at the top of the steps, shouting about order. The woman who'd been screaming was crying now. Someone's kid was tugging at her sleeve, asking what was happening, why was that man bleeding, why wasn't anyone helping.
Luke straightened up. Wiped his mouth.
He walked past.
---
The ration line was longer than yesterday.
Or maybe it just felt longer. The faces were the same—grey, hollow, the kind of tired that didn't go away after sleep.
A woman at the front. Luke knew her. Tessa. Her husband had died in the first patrol. She had two kids. The younger one had the cough now—the bad one, the one that didn't stop.
"Three pounds," the Keeper said.
"That's less than yesterday."
"The stores are less than yesterday."
"My daughter is sick."
"The stores don't care if she's sick."
Tessa's hand shot out. Grabbed the Keeper's wrist. "Please."
He pulled back. She held on.
"Please."
"Let go, or I call the guards."
She didn't let go. The Keeper called the guards.
Luke stepped out of line. Walked up to the table.
"Give her my ration."
The Keeper looked at him. "What?"
"Give her my ration. I'll take less tomorrow."
"You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because—" The Keeper stopped. His mouth opened. Closed.
Tessa was staring at Luke. Her face was wet.
"Why?" she asked.
Luke didn't answer. He just turned and walked away.
Behind him, the guards were arriving. The Keeper was explaining. Tessa was crying.
Luke kept walking.
---
The Red Ward was worse than yesterday.
Liara was at the apothecary vats, her hands moving, her face blank. She looked up when he walked in.
"You look like shit."
"I feel like shit."
"Then sit down."
He didn't sit. He stood there, watching her work. The vats were almost empty. The shelves were bare.
"How many?" he asked.
"New cases? Eleven since last night."
"That's not—"
"I know what it's not."
A nurse walked past with a stack of bloody bandages. Her hands were shaking. She didn't look at either of them.
"Jorund was here," Liara said. "He wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
"He didn't say. He just stood there for a while. Then he left."
Luke nodded. He didn't know what that meant.
"You should go," Liara said. "You're in the way."
"I'm not in the way."
"You're standing in the middle of the floor with your mouth open. That's the definition of being in the way."
He moved. Leaned against the wall. His chest was tight.
"I gave my ration away," he said.
Liara's hands stopped. "What?"
"To Tessa. Her daughter is sick."
"You're sick."
"I'm not a child."
"You're an idiot."
"Probably."
She stared at him. Her face was hard, but her eyes weren't.
"Come here."
He walked over. She shoved a vial into his hand. Pale yellow.
"Drink it."
"I already took some. From the closet."
"I know. Drink this one anyway."
He drank. The liquid was bitter. His throat burned.
Liara took the empty vial. Set it on the counter. Didn't look at him.
"Don't die tomorrow."
"I'll try not to."
"That's not the same thing."
"I know."
She walked away. He stood there for a moment, then followed.
---
The tunnels were crowded.
People pushed past him—workers, weavers, children running late. A man carrying a stack of crates nearly knocked him over.
"Watch it," the man said.
"You watch it."
The man stopped. Turned. Looked at Luke like he was seeing him for the first time.
"What did you say?"
Luke's heart was pounding. His chest was tight. His hands were shaking.
"I said you watch it."
The man stared at him. Then he laughed. Shook his head. Walked away.
Luke stood there, breathing hard, not sure why he'd said it.
He found Jorund in the masonry yard.
The big man was sitting on a stack of cut stone, his hammer in his lap, his eyes on the crack in the wall. He looked thinner than yesterday. Or maybe Luke was just noticing now.
"You came," Jorund said.
"I came."
Jorund didn't respond. He just sat there, staring at the crack, watching it pulse.
"The Medics are out of medicine," he said. "The stores are empty. The Keepers are arguing about rationing. The Chief hasn't left his chambers in days."
Luke sat down beside him. "I know."
"They're saying we have two weeks. Maybe less. Then the lower tiers start starving."
"I know."
Jorund looked at him. His eyes were tired. "Then why are you standing there like you don't care?"
Luke's jaw tightened. "I care."
"You've got a funny way of showing it."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to say something real."
Luke stood up. His chest was burning. His hands were shaking.
"I gave my ration away. To Tessa. Her daughter is sick. I'm sick too, but I'm not a child, and I'm not her mother, and I couldn't just stand there and watch her beg."
Jorund stared at him.
"So now I'm going into the forest tomorrow with nothing in my stomach and three vials of stolen medicine in my pocket, and I'm probably going to die out there, and the only thing I can think is that at least Tessa's daughter gets to eat today."
He was breathing hard. His voice had risen. He hadn't meant for it to.
Jorund was quiet for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"That's real," he said.
Luke sat back down.
---
The Square was crowded.
Harkin was near the gate, the lantern at his feet. A crowd had gathered—not the whole village, but enough. Enough to watch. Enough to hope. Enough to doubt.
"We go at dawn," Harkin said.
Someone shouted from the back. "You said that last time!"
"And the time before that!"
"And the time before that!"
Harkin's smile didn't waver. "And tomorrow, we actually do it."
A woman pushed to the front. Not Tessa. Someone else. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow.
"My son is sick," she said. "The Medics can't help him. They say there's no medicine left."
Harkin looked at her. "I'll bring something back."
"You said that last time too."
"This time is different."
"How?"
Harkin didn't answer.
The woman stared at him. Then she spat on the ground at his feet.
"That's for my son," she said. "When he dies."
She walked away.
The crowd was silent.
Harkin stood there, the spit drying on his boots, his face unreadable.
---
Luke found Bren near the cistern.
The boy was sitting on the edge, his legs dangling over the water, his hands in his lap. He looked up when Luke sat down.
"You're going tomorrow," Bren said.
"So are you."
Bren's hands were shaking. "I know."
"My father used to say—" Bren stopped. Swallowed. "My father used to say a lot of things. None of them helped."
Luke didn't respond.
"I'm scared," Bren said.
"Me too."
Bren looked at him. "You don't look scared."
"Good."
They sat there, the water dark below them, the fog thin above them.
"I'm not going to read the markers," Bren said.
Luke turned. "What?"
"I'm not going to read them. I'm going to pretend I can't. I'm going to lead us in circles until Harkin gives up and comes back."
"That's insane."
"That's survival."
Luke stared at him. "People are going to die."
"People are going to die anyway." Bren's voice cracked. "At least this way, I'm not the one pointing the way."
He stood up. Walked away.
Luke sat alone by the cistern, watching the water move, trying to figure out what to do with what he'd just heard.
---
He didn't mean to end up at the Harkin household.
He just walked. His feet carried him. Suddenly he was standing outside the door, listening to the noise inside.
"—you can't just leave again—"
"—I have to—"
"—you don't have to do anything—"
"—Jabu—"
"—don't—"
The door opened. Jabu stood there, his face red, his eyes wet.
He looked at Luke. Didn't say anything. Just walked past.
Harkin appeared in the doorway. His face was calm, but his hands were shaking.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Bren's going to sabotage the mission."
Harkin's face didn't change. "I know."
"You know?"
"He's been talking about it for days. He's scared. He'll do his job when it matters."
"And if he doesn't?"
Harkin stepped closer. His voice was low.
"Then I'll make him."
Luke stared at him. "You're willing to force him?"
"I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
"That's not leadership."
"No," Harkin said. "It's survival."
He closed the door.
Luke stood there for a moment. Then he walked away.
---
The house was dark.
Liara was sitting at the table, a cup in her hands, her eyes on the wall.
"You're back," she said.
"I'm back."
"You look like someone hit you."
"No one hit me."
"Then why do you look like that?"
Luke sat down across from her. "Bren's going to sabotage the expedition."
Liara set down the cup. "What?"
"He's scared. He's going to pretend he can't read the markers. Lead them in circles."
"That's insane."
"That's what I said."
She stared at him. "What are you going to do?"
Luke didn't answer.
"Luke."
"I don't know."
"You have to tell someone."
"I just told you."
"That's not what I meant."
He stood up. Walked to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
He walked out.
---
The night was long.
Luke lay on his cot, the vials in his pocket, the cough in his chest. He didn't sleep. He just lay there, thinking about Bren. About Harkin. About the woman who spat on the ground. About Tessa's daughter.
Somewhere above, a child was crying.
Somewhere below, a woman was dying.
And somewhere in the dark, the forest was waiting.
Luke sat up. He couldn't stay here.
He walked to the gate.
The fog was thick. The gate was closed. He pressed his hand to the cold iron.
Behind him, footsteps.
"You too?" Jorund's voice.
Luke didn't turn. "Yeah."
They stood there, side by side, not speaking.
The fog pressed. The gate held.
Morning was coming.
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