Chapter 15

It was a short, tense ride as we made our escape. The treeline swallowed us and after only a few meters everything went silent apart from muffled hooves on the forest floor. For several minutes my head swivelled from side to side, looking for pursuers, but there were none. The only other shape I could make out was almost our shadow, the other rider who had rescued the young soldier matched pace with us some distance to our left.

I had thought any rescue attempt would have had to have been sent from far away, to avoid Ben's scouts, but we had been riding less that 20 minutes when we came to a gentle stop a few feet outside what looked to be a long, squat bunker; a solid concrete concrete monstrosity that had long since grown over with ivy and moss. I understood then, you could pass within 100 yards of the place and not know it was there.

I dismounted awkwardly, and my rescuer did the same. He motioned for me to wait where I was, then gathered the horse's reins in one hand and led it away into the forest to my left. Our riding company had done the same, and I stood by the young girl, who was still clutching her arm tightly to her body, and watched as the two riders disappeared from view.

I turned to her. "Are you okay? What's your name?"

Her eyes went wide and she took a reflexive step backwards. It took me a moment to understand why, but when I finally took a proper look at her uniform, it became obvious. The crest emblazoned her chest belonged to the Easterlies.

I didn't have a chance to process this, or to say anything further to the girl, as the door of the bunker shuddered open and two men emerged into the clearing to face us. To my surprise, I recognised the one opposite me. It felt like years, but I realised it had really only been days since I had been greeted at the guild by an enthusiastic young messenger. He looked tired, and scruffier than I remembered, having swapped his trainee uniform for sturdier clothes. He looked more like an actual messenger, now.

"Matt? Is this…" I gestured loosely at the bunker "guild?"

I saw him clock my confused expression and he let out a short laugh.

"God's above, no. Jonathan has nothing to do with this."

"Then who…? Matt gestured for his companion to help the injured soldier, then beckoned for me to follow him.

"You'll see soon enough. Probably best it doesn't come from me." He grinned lopsidedly. "I'm new here myself, obviously."

"How did you end up… wherever it is we are?"

He held open the bunker door for me and I stepped inside. I had expected something dark and dingy, like Jacques had been, but the corridor stretching out in front of me was wide and brightly lit, with dozens of small lights lining both walls. There were no doors except one at the end which looked to be a heavy metal contraption with a keypad mounted beside it. I watched Matt blush as he sidled past me then begin to lead me on towards the door.

"When you last left the guild, well it didn't take long for word to get round that Jonathan had been sending messengers after you, and not with the intention of helping you, if you get what I mean." He glanced at my face then fixed his eyes in front as his blush deepened. "A lot of us, well, we think a lot of you, you know? Didn't seem right, even if we didn't know the context. A pretty large group of us met the next night, thinking about taking off on our own, you know, see if we could help you or whatnot. But then a representative of the boss here reached out, and well, you'll hear the rest soon enough."

We had reached the far end of the corridor and I waited as Matt typed in a long code. He made no move to hide it from me, but I couldn't follow the pattern his fingers traced across the keypad. He saw my expression and guessed my thoughts correctly.

"Don't worry, it's not hard to remember. I'm sure you'll get all the codes and stuff soon." He pushed open the heavy door with some effort, then motioned for me to pass through. I looked behind me, but the girl and Matt's acquaintance hadn't followed us. I felt a light touch on my arm and Matt guessed right again.

"She'll be fine. There's another entry for the hospital wing. From the looks of it you'll be joining her there shortly, but the boss said you should be brought to her immediately." I let him guide me gently through the door as I pondered that. The boss was a woman, that was unusual. I hadn't heard of any other groups being led by a woman except Jessie. Who the hell had saved me? And where the hell had they brought me?

We had reached the top of a staircase, with lights running down each wall in the same style as the previous room. As we descended, I started to be able to make out the space beyond. It made my eyes widen and I almost tripped down the stairs. It was clearly a military installation before, with a huge domed room at the bottom and several long corridors leading out from it. People were darting to and fro, in and out of offices or between the bank of computers in the centre of the circular space. If any noticed a battered messenger and her guide entering, none of them showed it. Matt took the lead once more, and I hobbled after him down the nearest corridor on shaky legs, struggling despite him keeping a slow pace that I was sure was for my benefit only. Luckily we didn't have far to go. Matt opened one more door for me, and reached for the handle. He started to twist the knob, but then paused for a second. I could see a reddish tinge creeping up his neck once more.

"I… It's good to see you alive. I'm really glad they managed to save you."

I smiled at him. Despite all the questions I had turning in my head, it had been nice to be met by a somewhat familiar face.

"Thank you Matt. I am too."

He pulled open the door and I took a deep breath to steel myself before stepping through.

Time to get some answers.

The room was sparsely furnished, empty and whitewashed except for a long, exquisitely carved, mahogany conference table that reminded me with a brief twinge of sadness of Jacques bar. Behind the table a woman stood, facing the wall and scrutinizing the only piece of art in the space. Her posture was relaxed, but military in its style; legs slightly apart and hands clasped behind her back. Dark hair ran in a plait down the back of what looked to be camouflage fatigues, and I wondered if the army had somehow continued to function without me having noticed for 6 years.

The door shut gently behind me, and I took another two steps forward, then stopped. For a moment the woman made no sign she had heard me enter, but then slowly she turned around. I let out an audible gasp.

"Mum?!"