Free Promised by Caragh M. O'brien

her.
    â€œWe don’t want them,” the Enclave commander said.
    â€œIt’s all three of us or nothing,” she said. “There’s nothing in your orders against bringing extra hostages, is there?”
    The commander nodded curtly. “All right. But no trouble, understand?”
    Gaia took another step nearer.
    â€œWhat’s your name, Mabrother?” she asked.
    Everything about the commander was medium: his height, his build, his age, his brown hair. If his intelligence was, too, she couldn’t underestimate how dangerous he might be. She’d never trusted people who followed orders to the letter.
    â€œSergeant Burke.” He gestured to his men. “Let’s go.”
    Gaia glanced back at her archers one last time. Then she and the Chardo brothers were surrounded. They started through Wharfton. The dirt roads and small, scorched yards were empty.
    â€œIt’s not normally like this,” Gaia said in an undervoice to Peter and Will. “There are usually people out.” She couldn’t tell if they were hiding now because of her arrest, or if this was a permanent change, but she didn’t like it.
    When they reached the quadrangle, several people were talking before the Tvaltar, and though they stopped when they saw the soldiers, they held their ground. At least the whole place isn’t a ghost town, she thought. A boy ran across the packed dirt, heading toward the eastern sectors of Wharfton. An upstairs shutter opened on squeaky hinges, and eyes peered from behind a rattan curtain.
    They rose up the sloped road toward the south gate, and as Gaia glanced up at the new ramparts on top of the wall, a full complement of soldiers looked down at her, rifles in hand. The south gate stood tall before her, its doors open like a great maw to expose the vacant space below the arch, and her courage began to fail her.
    â€œLook,” Will said, nudging her arm.
    Along the rooftops of Wharfton, half shielded behind crooked stovepipes and chimneys, several sturdy young men crouched. Some held stones. One had a slingshot. He nodded at Gaia and held it up defiantly toward the guards on the wall, clearly ready to risk their retaliation.
    â€œThey’ll help us,” Will said. “We can still run.”
    Sergeant Burke prodded them forward. “Keep moving.”
    Gaia next saw Derek Vlatir, Leon’s birth father, standing tall on a rooftop ridge. He held one knife in his hand and had a row of extra knives laid out on the chimney beside him with their hilts visible in silhouette. His solid stance and the set of his shoulders were unexpectedly familiar to her now, resembling Leon’s. Slightly behind him stood a younger, pink-cheeked woman holding a slingshot in one hand and a stone in the other.
    â€œYou say the word, Gaia Stone,” Derek called fearlessly.
    A couple of the guards on the wall laughed.
    Anxious for how vulnerable the rebels were, Gaia shook her head. “Don’t do it, Derek,” she called.
    Sergeant Burke shoved her again.
    The next instant, she stepped under the heavy shadow of the arch into the Enclave. Commotion erupted around her. The doors closed shut, and she spun back to discover Peter and Will had been blocked outside with half of the Enclave guards.
    Before she could protest, rough hands grabbed her arms and she was lifted nearly off her feet by Sgt. Burke. Peter’s and Will’s voices called from the other side of the massive doors, then went silent. Half a dozen guards came running down the steps of the wall to surround Gaia.
    â€œSearch her, Jones,” Sgt. Burke said.
    A tall, big-nosed guard leered as he reached for her.
    â€œDon’t you dare touch me,” Gaia said.
    But Sgt. Burke spun her to pin her arms tightly behind her and she was unable to jerk away. She remembered Jones and his leering from a long-ago morning when she was delivered to the Bastion, and it sickened her now to have him pat along