I grabbed Finnick's wrist, turned my palm toward me and willed my dagger into my hand in a reverse grip.

  With all my strength—all my anger, I slashed up.

  The dagger sliced through the soft silk of Finnick’s shirt and the tendons of his forearm. I spun on my knees, driving my weapon down on his head.

  Eyes wide, he held up his flopping right hand. The dagger impaled his palm, driving down to pin the hand to his cheek and skewer his tongue.

  I ripped it free, staggering to my feet.

  "Finnick! Why?!"

  He scowled at me. Blood poured through the jagged hole in his cheek. His right arm dangled below his elbow.

  "I prothect my brother. From himsthelf and from you!"

  The ground at my feet cracked. I jumped, throwing my dagger and rolling to my left. A moment later, spikes of stone shot up from where I stood. Another spike erupted in front of Finnick, deflecting my dagger.

  I rolled to my feet, pressing my right hand against my neck.

  "Your cut was shallow, Finnick! You should have smashed me over the head and saved us both some trouble."

  I raised my left hand, burning my will to send a torrent of flame at the Dahlgeshi.

  Die!

  The fire engulfed the stone spike and everything surrounding it. After a few seconds, I let flames sputter out. I walked around the spike in a wide arc, keeping my hand raised for another attack. My fire had singed the ground a sooty black, but where I expected to find a burning body, I found a hole instead.

  "Of course! You and your tunnels! You hate them until you need them!"

  Don’t shout, stupid.

  I crouched, pouring will into my jacket and waiting for Finnick’s counterattack.

  One minute…

  Two minutes…

  Ten minutes…

  Did he run away?

  I stood up, and the world spun. I peeled my hand away from my neck for a moment and grimaced. The wound was shallow, but the bleeding hadn't stopped.

  I needed to get back to the Pit. I needed Dugan to heal me. I could deal with Finnick later. After all, I knew where he lived.

  I took a step forward, and my foot sank through the ground.

  The earth shallowed my leg up to the knee. With only one arm to balance, fell forward and tasted mud.

  I flailed, grasping for anything and finding nothing. I didn’t know how to swim, but at that moment, it wouldn’t help. Each movement sucked me further and further into muddy depths.

  Over my panicked gasps of air, a low voice purred.

  "Sthupid elf," Finnick said. "You would have thied easthier if you let me sthit your throat."

  He chuckled in a raspy hiss.

  "But this worths too."

  I tilted my head to the voice. It was all I could do. Everything below my neck was submerged in the thick mud. Finnick’s short silhouette loomed over me, highlighted by the embers from the warehouse fire.

  "In Thahlgesh, we call this thuicksand. The more you sthruggle, the fasther you think. Think on your lasth momenths, elf. This is what if means to fight- AHHHHH!"

  Finnick's short body flew in the air, landing head-first into the quicksand. Thor skidded to a stop at the edge where dirt and mud met.

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  "Thor, you beautiful beast! I could kiss you!"

  The pack animal wheezed out a short series of laughs.

  Finnick's head burst from the mud beside me, gasping for air.

  I pressed the side of my fist against his forehead and willed my dagger into my hand in a reverse grip.

  The dagger appeared, displacing bone and brain. I yanked it free with a spurt of blood and let Finnick’s head fall limp to one side.

  With a satisfied sigh, I turned back to Thor.

  "Get me out of this mess."

  # # #

  Thor led me back to the Pit through back alleys, avoiding the stone men and patrols of Kateen's guards. Based on his behaviour and the size of the hole, we closed the stone men’s only tunnel into Steeltown. Without reinforcements and supplies, they would be defeated. Steeltown would stand, and Nostrand Del's first volley in this war had fallen short.

  It hadn’t been without sacrifice. We walked past one burnt building after the other with no lantern or fire to light our way. I tilted my head up to the sky. A few stars were able to twinkle through the grey haze. I winced and pressed harder against my neck. That wasn’t smart. I was opening my wound wider.

  I didn’t care.

  Thor grunted and turned the corner into the main street.

  I sighed.

  “Are we there yet?”

  I followed the boar, each step taking more effort than the last. I turned the corner and shielded my eyes. A makeshift barricade made of repurposed wood faced me halfway down the street. Torches on poles were strapped to the wooden wall, and between them, people lined it, levelling crossbows and other ranged weapons in my direction.

  "Wait! It's the half-elf," a woman said.

  I blinked.

  Finally, one of them got it right.

  They lowered their weapons. The men in long brown coats were more hesitant.

  A covered wagon with planks of wood covering the gap between its wheels rolled to the side, revealing an entrance to a bustling camp.

  I scratched my cheek, flaking off dried mud.

  They’ve been busy.

  I walked past the barricade.

  Groups of armed men and women walked in patrols. Evacuated shopkeepers and store clerks worked in assembly lines, making fortifications.

  They all stopped and stared at me.

  I couldn’t blame them. I was caked head to toe in mud and blood, walking beside a boar with saddlebags strapped to its sides.

  Clap!

  My eyes darted to the sudden noise.

  Clap!

  Another. A shopkeeper with a handlebar mustache pressed his hands together.

  Clap! Clap! Clap!

  The slow claps turned into full-on applause.

  “Half-elf!”

  “Half-elf!”

  “Half-elf!”

  Were they cheering for me? These people are insane.

  I gave them an awkward wave. Thor raised his chin, walking tall up the stairs of the Pit.

  When in doubt, follow the boar.

  The activity inside the Pit was even more of a flurry. Tables were pushed together in the center of the dining room. Maps of Steeltown covered them, leaving not an inch of surface bare. Reed, Kateen and Arwen stood at the head of the tables in the eye of the storm. Around them, runners from different parts of the town barked out reports of enemy movement.

  Dew Able and other black-robed Sanctifiers at the tables removed copper coins on the map to the pleased smiles of Arwen and Kateen. At the bar, Tom drummed his fingers on the countertop, waiting for Cassandra to refill his mug of ale.

  His face lit up when he saw me.

  “Jacob, you’re alive!”

  The eyes fixed on the tables turned to me.

  "You look terrible!" Arwen said.

  "I've lived through worse."

  Kateen smirked before turning up her nose.

  I needed to keep an eye on her. She would kill me the first chance she got, and in war, there were many.

  Reed favoured me with a slight smile.

  "Jacob, I’m glad you're still among the living. We assumed that you and Finnick were behind that explosion. Are the tunnels to Steeltown closed?"

  "Thor seems to think so."

  He grunted in agreement.

  Reed nodded.

  "That matches our reports. Good."

  "Um… Have you seen Dugan?"

  I removed the hand pressed against my neck, flashing a blood-smeared palm.

  "He’s in the master suite upstairs with the others. You should freshen up. We'll need you soon."

  I nodded, turning away to walk across the floor to the stairs.

  "Stop."

  Reed's eyes narrowed.

  "Where's Finnick?"

  I froze. The eyes of everyone in the room were on me. Even Tom glanced over his newly filled mug.

  What should I say? The longer I waited, the more guilty I looked.

  I sighed and shook my head.

  "He didn't make it..."

  Reed inspected me. Her eyes flicked from the dried mud on my clothes to the wound on my neck.

  She closed her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh.

  "Van Lagos is going to kill you, Jacob."

  “I know…”

  I swept my gaze around the room, taking in the mixture of curious and contemptuous stares.

  “But right now… I just want to survive the night.”

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