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I nod, scarfing down the final bites of scrambled eggs as fast as I can. “We should be done early today. An early start means an early finish. I’ll head back to Fire Court as soon as we finish.”
“Your mate is probably worried sick,” Ellia sighs as she begins rolling out the cinnamon dough.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I bite out more angrily than intended as I rip into a piece of buttery toast. “This is more important right now.”
She lets out a long sigh, pressing her judgment into the dough. “If you say so.”
Alaric gives Ellia a warm embrace and a soft kiss on the forehead. It’s the same loving routine every morning, and I’ll never get sick of witnessing such tender love.
He leads the way out, and I follow closely behind with our cart of supplies. We didn’t have our usual supplies from Fire Court because I stayed here last night, but Alaric has plenty of extra in the storage room below his house. We began pulling supplies from there as soon as we woke.
“We’ve got three drop-off points this morning. The fourth one has too many looters in the area, so we won’t risk tipping them off.”
How Alaric already knows this information, I don’t know, but I don’t question him. He has eyes and ears all over this village and far beyond. He’s the eyes and ears of the underground supply chain.
Nearly an hour after departing Alaric’s family home, we arrive at the first drop-off point. It normally takes us less time, but looters are out in higher-than-normal numbers today, and we’re doing our best to remain undetected. Even though I can easily take them out, we can’t draw attention to ourselves. It would be no different from ringing a dinner bell, calling out to everyone in the area, letting them know we’ve arrived with a cart full of food. Not only would we be swarmed by looters, but starving people as well. It would be too hard to tell who’s who amid the chaos, and we’d risk hurting innocent people.
We descend a short flight of moss-covered rock stairs leading toward a notoriously creaky wooden door. This supply drop is hidden in the basement beneath an abandoned bar. The liquor was wiped clean soon after the war ended. It now fuels looters with enough drunken rage and anger to do what they do best, steal and destroy.
Too many good people turned bad after the war. They lost themselves in a fight for their lives, choosing evil over good to make it out on top. I wish I could say I wouldn’t do the same if I were in a similar situation, but I don’t know… I think I’d do what I must, especially for Adeena.
Then again, Adeena doesn’t want my help.
Taking one last look around, my voice is barely a whisper as I glance at Alaric behind me. “You know what to do if you see someone.”
He nods as he steadies his breathing. His body is weak and less healed than what would be ideal for a venture into town, but his determination to feed the people of Tartarus can’t be stopped. Giving me a quick nod, he turns his back, facing toward the street to keep watch.
We keep things consistent at each drop-off, which leaves less room for error when every day is this dangerous. Alaric keeps watch while I clear the interior location. If he detects anyone he whistles, alerting me to possible danger. Sometimes it’s merely a traveler passing through, and others it’s an actual threat, such as a band of looters or feral creatures. After I’m done clearing each location I send out a butterfly spy, signaling it’s safe for him to join me inside. We quickly make the drop, then slip out the door faster than we came. When we aren’t busy making drop-offs, Alaric networks the underground community across Tartarus, spreading word of the hidden supplies to the right people.
The wooden door creaks as I open it, making us both cringe. I leave the door open behind me as I slip inside. It’s dark and reeks of mold, just the way we like it. Uninviting is better for keeping unwanted strays away. It appears to be abandoned, like nearly every other building in this ghost town, making it a discrete location to hide supplies.
Dusty bookshelves draped in cobwebs make this room a little ominous, even for me. The deep shelves offer an abundance of places to hide as I creep my way down the dimly lit rows.
I reach out with my senses, feeling around as I walk, searching for any hint of magic hiding within the space. The air is stagnant and I don’t feel anything unusual, so I keep going.
Five minutes pass and I’ve cleared the entire space. Swirling my fingertips over my palm, I create a tiny golden butterfly to send back to Alaric. Gold dust follows the butterfly as it leaps from my hand, launching itself into the air. It soars out of sight as I make my way toward the back of the room where we keep the supplies hidden behind a wall of empty crates. We strategically draped old tarps around the clever arrangement of crates. At first glance, the wall of crates appears to be the end of the room, but if you know where you’re going, there’s a tunnel leading to the small stock of supplies.
The tunnel is so small I nearly have to crawl, but if I fold in my wings and crouch low enough, I’m able to make it through. Alaric fits through the tunnel more easily than I can, but it’s still a bit of a squeeze.
I slowly make my way through the tunnel, avoiding newly spun cobwebs as I go. The spiders do a phenomenal job of keeping up the “abandoned” look and feel of this place. No one in their right mind would wander through this tunnel unless they knew what lies on the other side.
My jaw drops and my stomach sinks as I step out of the tunnel.
It’s empty.
Totally, completely, utterly empty.
Six days a week isn’t enough for these starving people. We carry as much as we possibly can without drawing attention to ourselves, but it just isn’t enough. The demand for food is growing far beyond what the two of us are capable of supplying.
“Fuck,” Alaric curses under his breath as he steps out from the tunnel behind me. He’s shaking his head in disbelief as he speaks the words I was already thinking. “We need more help.”
I pull the cart of supplies to the middle of the space and then pull out a bag full of dried beans. “Yeah, but who? No one wants to risk their lives for this place.”
Alaric begins unloading bags of rice on the opposite side of the small space. “That’s because they don’t understand.”
Sadness takes me by surprise as I reminisce, knowing exactly who he’s referring to. The brief meetings with the other Archai courts and my shaken friendship with Hali are still fresh in my mind. “I tried, Alaric, but they didn’t care. No one wants to risk depleting their supplies until Tartarus can be self-sufficient again, and the only way to do that is to rid Tartarus of criminals and loose creatures.”
“Why don’t they send in help? Surely the courts could get the prison up and running again.”
