Текст книги "The Sun Dwellers"

Автор книги: David Estes

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Acknowledgments

It’s strange writing acknowledgments for a single book when those whom I’m indebted to have helped me with far more than just the pages of this novel. First and foremost are my readers, who have taken a chance on one or more of my books over the last whirlwind year, spending your hard earned dollars on an unknown author, and giving me the chance to make my dreams come true, as I’ve embarked on writing as a full-time career. Without you, I’d still be sitting in a cubicle, dozens of stories still stuck in my head, waiting to be told. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

To my editor, Christine LePorte, we started this journey together with The Moon Dwellers, and now this is our third book together! Your wisdom and dedication to maintaining the quality of the Dwellers Saga is truly admirable. I can’t wait to see how the next three books we create together turn out!

A super, special (dare I say ginormous) thanks to my creative and dedicated marketing team at shareAread, particularly Nicole Passante and Karla Calzada, who have helped to get a ball rolling down a hill that won’t stop for many years to come. I’m forever in your debt.

A humble thanks to my magnificent (and honest) beta team who gently pushed The Sun Dwellers in the right direction, and very wisely told me to get Anna’s story out of the novel and into a short story! So thank you, Laurie Love, Alexandria Theodosopoulos, Karla Calzada, Christie Rich, Kayleigh-Marie Gore, Nicole Passante, Kerri Hughes, Terri Thomas, Lolita Verroen, Zuleeza Ahmad, and Kaitlin Metz. And as always, as a special thanks to the boss of the beta readers, my beautiful wife, Adele, who I must agree all edits with. I’m so lucky to have you in my life—I wouldn’t be doing any of this if it wasn’t for you.

To my unbelievably supportive friends in my Goodreads Fan Group, I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done (and continue to do) for me. To have the group grow to such an incredible size in less than 6 months is simply mind-boggling.

And last but not least, I just want to say that the cover is once again perfect for the book, which I could never achieve on my own. So thanks to Tony Wilson at Winkipop Designs; you are the finest artist-ninja-surfer I know. I can’t wait to see the cover for the final Dwellers book, The Earth Dwellers.

Discover

other books by David Estes available through the author’s official website:

http://davidestes100.blogspot.com

or through select online retailers including Amazon.com.

Young-Adult Books by David Estes

The Dwellers Saga:

Book One—The Moon Dwellers

Book Two—The Star Dwellers

Book Three—The Sun Dwellers

Book Four—The Earth Dwellers (coming November 2013!)

The Country Saga by David Estes (A sister series to The Dwellers Saga):

Book One—Fire Country (coming March 1, 2013!)

The Evolution Trilogy:

Book One—Angel Evolution

Book Two—Demon Evolution

Book Three—Archangel Evolution

Children’s Books by David Estes

The Nikki Powergloves Adventures:

Nikki Powergloves—A Hero Is Born

Nikki Powergloves and the Power Council

Nikki Powergloves and the Power Trappers

Nikki Powergloves and the Great Adventure

Nikki Powergloves vs. the Power Outlaws (Coming in 2013!)

Connect with David Estes Online

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/David-Estes/130852990343920

Author’s blog: http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/davidestes100

Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/davidestesbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/davidestesbooks

About the Author

After growing up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, David Estes moved to Sydney, Australia, where he met his wife, Adele. Now they travel the world writing and reading and taking photographs.

ANNA’S STORY

:

A DWELLERS SHORT STORY

Chapter One

The Moon Realm

The reports are coming so fast that General Rose is not even reading them anymore:

Sun dwellers troops were spotted in the tunnels around subchapter 9…

A platoon of red-uniformed men was seen just outside of subchapter 32…

The shot fired appears to have been a warning shot, but subchapter 14 citizens have been warned to stay indoors, as far underground as possible…

She stacks the unread reports in a neat pile on the corner of her stone desk, closes her eyes, wonders whether she’s made a horrible mistake in sending her daughter on such a low-odds mission. You had no choice, she reminds herself. Everything is as it was meant to be, as it was planned by two plotting and scheming mothers two years earlier.

She’d never heard from the First Lady after that day. Then came the reports from the Sun Realm that President Nailin’s wife had disappeared mysteriously. Although she was glad the hooded woman had not returned to her abusive husband, she was somewhat surprised that she’d left her two sons behind, in the care of a madman. For a moment she wonders where the First Lady is now.

A knock on her door snaps her out of her thoughts. “Come in,” Anna says firmly.

General Ross enters, his typically stolid face grim. His dark skin is like a shadow in the dim lighting. “Have you seen the latest reports?”

“I skimmed them,” she admits, waving at the pile on her desk. “But that’s all it took to get the picture. We’re screwed.”

“I’d consider tweaking that speech before you address your soldiers,” he says, his flat face hiding the joke.

She smiles, despite herself. Ever since the star dwellers generals were released from the President’s threat on the lives of their families they were growing on her. General Ross in particular.

“All we have to do is hold them off long enough for your daughter to come through for us. Without their leader, they’ll retreat. There’ll be chaos. We’ll be able to take advantage of it.”

She nods. “I know. Adele will come through. They all will.” But there may not be a Moon Realm left to fight for when they do.

Anna leaves that part out.

Chapter Two

The eve of the Sun Festival brings dark thoughts for her. Earlier, President Nailin made an announcement that the 500-year celebration would “go forward as planned, war or no war!” Anna Rose suspected this might happen, but instructed the other generals not to mention it to the mission team, to her daughter, choosing only to inform Trevor. She wonders now if that was a mistake.

Her theory: better not to complicate things. For all she knew, the Festival would be cancelled and it would have no bearing on the mission, and even if it weren’t cancelled, it might benefit them by way of a distraction. As they agreed, Trevor will tell them all of that. It’s the same thing she would have told them beforehand.

But she could have just told them, so they were fully prepared.

Better not to worry them.

Should’ve told them.

Don’t complicate things.

Either way, she reminds herself, you can’t change things now. You have to trust they’ll adapt on the fly. They will.

Another distant Boom! shakes her bed, where she lies not to sleep, but to think. Despite the barricades and tripwire, it took less than an hour for the sun dweller army to infiltrate subchapter 1 of the Moon Realm, allowing them to wheel in their launchers and begin the assault. The bombing’s been nonstop for more than two hours.

There will be no sleep tonight.

Not for the Resistance, not for the moon dweller troops, not for the thousands of elderly, children, and disabled innocents sitting huddled together, their knees to their chests, in the cellars and basements and safe houses strewn haphazardly across the city—and certainly not for General Rose.

She closes her eyes and says a silent prayer, for the Moon Realm and for Adele.

Chapter Three

The bombing stops at two in the morning. The silence is loud and thick and rings in General Rose’s ears. She waits ten minutes to confirm that it’s not just a normal lull before another round. The rough whispers of hundreds of soldiers paint through the stale bunker air like an artist’s brush. The messages are obvious: eagerness, worry, determination, fear.

“What do you think it means?” the young woman beside her asks.

Anna looks at her curiously. Maia. Far too young to be a member of the Resistance Council, and yet she is, nominated and voted in shortly after Anna and her husband were abducted. There’s no fear in her dark eyes, only curiosity. Something about her is as strong as steel.

“They wouldn’t stop unless they had other plans,” Anna says.

“You think they’re coming on foot?” Maia asks.

“I don’t want to speculate,” she says, picking up the phone that’s bolted to the brown bunker wall. “General Suzuki? What’s the status in subchapter twenty-four?”

The answer crackles through her headset: The bombing has stopped.

“Do we have eyes on the borders?” she asks.

It’s too soon.

“Okay. I’ll call you if I have anything.”

Slipping the phone back into place, she says, “The bombing has stopped everywhere. We need a visual on the borders.”

“I’ll go,” Maia says without hesitation.

“No,” Anna says. “It’s my responsibility.”

“But you’re the general.”

“Exactly. Stay here.”

“I’m coming with you,” Maia says, her voice firm.

Anna considers pulling rank, but then settles for the compromise. “Okay. Let’s go. Sanderson—we’re going above to check things out. You’re in charge.”

As they make their way to the thick iron door that separates the bunker from the outside subchapter, Anna studies Maia with interest. Her gait is confident, a mirror image of her expression. Despite her mere twenty-five years of age, Anna knows this woman is experienced beyond her years, either by choice or by fate.

Two burly guards unlock the barrier and pull it open before them, exposing a short tunnel that leads to a flight of stairs that ascend to the surface. A heavy dust-filled mist hangs in the air, swirling eerily before the soft lantern glow. Covering her mouth and nose with her tunic neckline, Anna moves forward quickly, Maia a step behind. The dust haze gets deeper as they climb the steps, and the smell of gunpowder and molten lead remind Anna of the Uprising.

They reach the surface, where the fog is settling on the debris from the bombing, coating the world in a thin layer of gray powder. Anna gasps as she surveys the extent of the damage.

“My God,” she says.

“They’ve destroyed it all,” Maia says.

Anna nods because she’s right. The subchapter, once beautiful in its elegant design, with symmetrical city blocks and narrow canals, is in shambles, its buildings toppled, its waterways filled to the brim with chunks of large stone blocks. The Dome, the large half-sphere at the center of the city, is ripped in half, mangled beyond recognition, the subchapter’s symbol of solidity and order reduced to ash and debris. And the strange thing: they can see it all from where they’re standing.

“The lights are back on,” Anna realizes, gazing at the cavern roof, where the rectangular panel lights are shining brighter than she’s ever seen them.

“And they’re brighter,” Maia says, reading her mind.

“This can mean only one thing,” Anna says, dread filling her. “The sun dwellers are coming.”

At that moment, a horn blares, drawing Anna’s attention to the eastern corner of the city, where an inter-Realm tunnel leads to the Sun Realm.

Hundreds of red-clad sun dweller soldiers pour from the maw of the tunnel, letting loose a thunderous war cry, climbing over half-crushed stone blocks and cracked gray columns.

“Move!” Anna shouts, just as a flash of flame erupts in the distance. Her words are unnecessary, as Maia is already on the run, seeking shelter behind one of the few upright stone walls.

BOOM!

An eruption of rock and fire and pain—from the splinters of stone shrapnel on her face and arms—announces the arrival of incendiaries preceding the ground troops. Covering her head with her hands, Anna races after Maia, diving for cover just as another blast shatters the abnormally bright night.

“We’ve got to get back to the bunker…warn the others,” Anna says, breathing heavily.

“I’ll go,” Maia says, moving out from the wall before Anna has a chance to argue. She begins to pursue the young warrior, but is stopped when another bomb explodes, throwing Maia back and into her arms, knocking them both flat on the ground. Her ribs are on fire and her lungs full of dirt, but she manages to wheeze, “Maia—are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the girl says, rolling off of her. “You?”

“I’ll survive.”

“We’ve got a problem, General,” Maia says, looking back toward the bunker. Following her gaze, she watches as a massive stone block settles over the mouth of the entrance.

“Dammit,” Anna says. “We’ll have to get to the other entrance.”

“Follow me,” Maia says, once more surprising Anna with her courage and strength. Moving out from the cover once more, Anna chases Maia across the broken terrain, staying low to avoid detection by the enemy. The war cries have stopped, but she knows they’re still coming, and it’s only a matter of time before the sun dweller soldiers manage to navigate the maze of fallen buildings and clogged canals.

As Maia hurdles a low wall, there’s another explosion, this time just to her right, and she’s thrown harshly to the side, tumbling down a small rise and into the blackness of a cellar. Just before she disappears, she cries out.

Her head on a swivel, Anna climbs over the wall and creeps down the hill toward the opening, hissing, “Maia!”

No response.

Thumbing her flashlight back on, she steps through the opening, descends a dozen stone steps, and flashes the light on Maia, who’s against the wall grimacing, clutching her ankle and breathing sharply through her teeth.

“Did you hit your head?” Anna asks.

“No. My ankle. I sprained it,” Maia says.

“It’s too hot out there at the moment,” Anna says. “I don’t think I can carry you to safety without getting us both killed. I’ll go get help.”

Maia nods, her eyes a steel-gray. “I’ll be here,” she says, forcing a laugh through her locked teeth.

Turning, Anna moves to climb from the cellar when the ground shakes from another blast.

CRACK!

A terrible sound of destruction rends the night. A huge stone block looms over the cellar entrance, rocking slightly, as if trying to decide which way to fall.

CRASH!

It topples, blocking the exit and thrusting the cellar into complete darkness, save for the thin beam of Anna’s flashlight.

Her heart sinks as she realizes: the cellar is now their tomb.

Chapter Four

The first ten minutes were the worst. Breathing in plumes of dust-ridden air from the explosion, coughing and coughing, but never managing to expel the choking fumes; hearing the deafening blasts of bombs going off all around them, the ground shaking, the roof threatening to cave in; wondering when the first sun dweller soldiers would arrive, whether they would break through the barricaded cellar opening, hot metal death flying from their automatic weapons: it was ten minutes of expectation. Expectation of pain—expectation of death.

General Rose huddles next to Maia, not embarrassed by the physical contact between leader and warrior, desperately needing the comfort of having a friend nearby.

I’m going to die without seeing either of my daughters again, Anna thinks to herself pitifully. Her husband’s face pops into her mind, giving her strength.

No! I will not go quietly into the night. This fight I’ve fought for so many years will not be lost, not while I’m still breathing, while my heart’s still beating, while blood continues to pump through my veins.

“We’re going to be okay,” Anna whispers.

“I know we will,” Maia replies.

For a few minutes they continue to wait for something to happen, but the bombing stops, leaving the only sound their haggard wheezing. But even that is silenced eventually, as the dust settles in a layer of gray powder on the ground. The air is breathable once more, and both women take the opportunity to cleanse their lungs with the fresh oxygen.

“I’ve always really admired you,” Maia says.

Anna’s eyes jerk to the young woman’s. It’s not what she expected her to say. Not with an injured ankle in a caved-in cellar in the middle of a warzone. “Really? Why?”

“Because you’re strong and courageous. You put the lives of others above your own. My mother said you would be the one to change things.”

Anna laughs uneasily. “It doesn’t appear that way, does it?”

“It’s not over yet.”

Once more, Anna’s taken aback by the strength of the girl who’s barely half her age. “Where’d you come from?” she asks, finally letting her curiosity get the better of her.

“Death,” Maia says, her voice a whisper in the dark.

“Tell me,” Anna says.

“My father was a revolutionary, like you and your husband. My mother stayed home with us, a somber woman, always expecting my father not to come home one day.”

“Who was your father?”

“James Berg. He was in the Resistance for two years before the Uprising.” There’s a hint of pride in Maia’s voice.

Anna nods. “Yes, James, of course. I didn’t know him that well, but I remember his passion for the cause. He was always going on about how wonderful the world would be once we put it right.”

Maia laughs. “He said similar things at home. He was the opposite of my mother, always seeing good in people and in the future, whereas my mother only saw our situation worsening. In the end, she was right, I guess.”

“Your father was killed during the Uprising.” A statement Anna knows to be true. She remembers the names of every individual who lost their lives in 475 PM. To her, remembering the dead is every bit as important as respecting the living.

Maia takes a breath. “It was a normal day for us. The Uprising was something happening far away, never getting close to our subchapter. Father sent us messages on an almost daily basis, reassuring us that he was alive and well and that the Resistance would win in the end, that good would conquer evil. He loved using language like that, righteous and grand.” Maia clears her throat, swallows, continues: “No message came that day, but that didn’t worry me, as some days there was no mail at all. We knew there would be a message the next day. We were just sitting down to dinner when a knock came at the door, which was also not unusual. Neighbors, clients of my mother’s—she knitted thick tunics especially made for miners—our friends: we frequently had people stopping by the house.

“And yet I’ll never forget the look on my mom’s face: utter fear. I’d never seen her face so white—ghostly is the only way I can describe it—her eyes like the eyes of a stranger. It made me shiver when I saw her, and just like her, I knew. There was no friend at the door. No neighbor. No client. Only death.”

“The Resistance came to give you the news?” Anna asks.

Maia nods. “Sort of. All they said was, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then, ‘Turn on the news.’ We did, of course, and we learned that the Uprising had been snuffed out by the Sun Realm in one foul swoop.”

“‘The Massacre’ they coined it. A name given by the President himself.”

“Yes. My father died in the Massacre.”

Wait. Something doesn’t make sense. “How old are you?” Anna asks.

“Twenty-nine,” Maia says.

Twenty-nine! Anna’s estimation of the girl’s age was off by half a decade. “You were four years old,” Anna murmurs.

“Yes. At that age I still thought my father was invincible. I didn’t understand. Yes, I know, Daddy’s dead, but when is he coming home? My mother didn’t know how to respond to my questions, which were relentless. Yes, you said yesterday that Daddy’s not coming home, but this is a different day. Today he’s coming home, right? I remember hearing her crying at night and going in her room, asking her What’s wrong? A couple of years passed and I grew up, finally gaining an understanding of death and what it meant for our family. Daddy was never coming home, because he wasn’t in the Tri-Realms anymore, was somewhere else where we couldn’t see him.”

“You’re religious?”

“Not really, but we always talked about how Daddy was in a better place, how he was still watching us. I loved talking about him, but I think it was hard for my mother.”

“What happened next?” Anna asks, intrigued by the story.

“I got older. When I turned twelve my mother changed. She started disappearing at night, while I was sleeping. I never questioned her about it, but one night, I decided to follow her. She didn’t go far—just down the street.

“She approached a house, said something through a stone door on the side, and the door opened. I stayed in the shadows, watching the door for a few minutes, as a dozen other women did the same thing. When ten minutes passed without anyone else appearing, I moved in.”

A smile forms on Anna’s face, to which Maia raises an eyebrow. “Go on,” Anna encourages.

“I tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. As a kid I always liked climbing things, so I wasn’t scared at all about clambering up the high stone wall surrounding the property. The top of the wall was rounded, so I had to balance very carefully as I crept along to the back of the house. Before I was halfway, I heard sounds: women talking, occasional grunts and groans, a thud or two.

“When I cleared the edge of the house and my line of sight was no longer obscured, I was shocked at the sight before me. There were four or five lines of women—perhaps thirty in all—dressed in black battle fatigues, like the ones I’d seen Father wear. Perfectly synchronized, they were punching and kicking and swinging staffs, mimicking the movements of a woman dressed in white battle gear, who was leading them.”

Anna’s smile widens. She nods vehemently. “The Women for Liberty Movement,” she says. “Or WLM.”

“Yes,” Maia says. “Although I didn’t know that at the time. And you know what? The woman in white was you.”

Chapter Five

“Really? It was me?” Anna says, somewhat surprised.

“Yes,” Maia says. “It was the first of three times I saw you. I followed my mother at night several times after that. She always went to the same house, and the same thing always happened. The training was different each time, and I found myself practicing the movements around the house when my mother wasn’t watching.

“There were different instructors most nights, but you never came back. I suspect you were travelling around, conducting similar training all over the Moon Realm.” Maia stops, looks to Anna for confirmation.

“That’s correct. I loved those times, for as dark as they were, we were a part of something important, something special. A group of women with one goal: to restore liberty and equality to the Tri-Realms.” Anna puts her arms behind her head and stares at the ceiling, lost in thought. Those days seem so long ago to her. A lifetime ago.

“I joined the WLM,” Maia says, and Anna’s gaze jerks back to her.

“When?”

“That same year.”

“That’s not possible. Sixteen years old was the age requirement. You said you were twelve.”

Maia grins and then twitches. Rubbing her ankle, she adjusts her position. Anna moves the flashlight so she can better see Maia’s face, which is streaked with sweat and moistened dust. Everything about the twenty-nine-year-old’s story interests her.

“That was the requirement. Primarily because of concerns that younger children might blab about things. Secrecy was of the utmost importance.”

“Right. We’d had problems with spies in the past. The Uprising was stopped so quickly because of them, did you know that?” Anna asks, raising her eyebrows.

“No. What happened?”

“The Resistance had everything planned. Strategic stealth attacks on key sun dweller facilities, like generators and weapons manufacturing; mass infiltration of the Sun Realm through shipping tunnels; scrambling of communications through targeted electro-magnetic attacks. But the plan never even got off the ground. There were hordes of sun dweller soldiers at each key location. It was like President Nailin had copies of all of our coded communications with a key to crack the code. It wasn’t even a fight. Many of us were killed, although some, like me and my husband, managed to escape. The only way we could’ve been defeated so badly is if there was a traitor near the top feeding information to the sun dwellers.”

“Which is why you were so careful to maintain the secrecy of the WLM,” Maia notes.

“Exactly. Which is why a twelve-year-old wouldn’t be permitted to attend our meetings, or even know about us, except by sneaking around in the shadows and climbing stone walls,” Anna adds, chuckling slightly.

“What can I say? I was a curious little girl. But I also joined the WLM that year.”

“How?”

“Well, I continued my sneaking and climbing,” Maia says, one side of her lip curled up. “And then one night I got too complacent. I was hugging the wall, watching the women train, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. And then I couldn’t anymore. My eyes closed for just a second, or maybe it was longer—I have no idea—when my eyes snapped open and I was falling, tumbling from the wall. I scraped at the stone, splitting a few of my nails open as I tried to hang on, but I’d already gathered too much momentum. When I thudded onto the hard rock patio, all eyes turned toward me. I was wheezing, trying to get my breath back, dazed and afraid and bruised.”

“I’m sure your mother was thrilled to see you,” Anna says sarcastically.

Maia laughs. “I wouldn’t quite describe it that way. Furious is more like it. I’d never seen her that angry. My mother had never laid a hand on me growing up, but this time, despite the fact that I was injured and gasping for breath, she grabbed me by the ear, hauled me to my feet, and marched me out of there.

“My knee was throbbing and I could barely put any pressure on it, but my mom had me by the collar of my sleeping tunic, practically lifting me off the ground. Once home, she sat me down, refusing to look or talk to me, and dressed my wounds, applying expensive ointment for faster healing. I just watched her, confused at her behavior. Was she mad, or wasn’t she?

“When she finished, she pulled up a chair, sitting across from me. It was the middle of the night, mind you, but I don’t think sleep was on either of our minds. Finally, she looked at me, her blue eyes darker than usual, her face still moist from the training session and dragging me home. ‘You can never speak of what you saw tonight, is that clear?’ she said. I nodded sheepishly. I wouldn’t have told anyone anyway, but promising my mom guaranteed it. It wasn’t in my nature to break a promise, still isn’t.”

From the little Anna knew about Maia, she believes her. The courage she had seen her display, her solidarity, her calm demeanor: everything pointed to Maia being a woman of character and honor, worthy of trust. “A wonderful story,” Anna says, “but you still haven’t said how you managed to join the WLM. So far, I’d say it’s a long shot, but I must say, I’m rooting for you.”

Grinning, Maia says, “Thanks. I almost forgot. It wasn’t until I saw you the second time that I even knew I wanted to join.”

Chapter Six

The trampling thunder of boots on rock hushes them both into silence. There’s no fear on either of their faces, just a cautiousness that’s born of courage under fire. The soldiers pass by directly overhead, and then across the mouth of the barricaded cellar opening, casting wraithlike shadows across the thin beams of light that sneak through cracks in the large stone that bars the entrance.

Heavy voices shatter the night, yelling commands and warning of threats. Shots ring out and anguished cries cause Anna to visibly wince. At least one moon dweller has been killed, probably several. More gunfire. More shouting and screams of pain. More death.

Anna’s fists clench at her sides, one around the handle of her gun, and the other around a sharp rock that cuts into her skin, providing her a small measure of comfort.

“I want to be out there, too,” Maia whispers, glancing at Anna’s angry hands.

Discarding the rock, Anna shines her flashlight around the cellar once more, hoping one of the four walls has disappeared, revealing a hidden passageway. Thick gray rock stares back at her, its arms crossed.

“We could make some noise,” Anna suggests, knowing full well it would be suicide.

“We could,” Maia agrees, but neither of them raises their voice above a whisper.

Another flurry of explosions cut through the quiet, someone shouts “Move!” and then the clop of dozens of footsteps fades away, into the distance.

“Where were we?” Anna says, her heart still beating too fast. She’s anxious to distract Maia from what’s happening outside. She could use a distraction, too.

“Joining the WLM,” Maia says, eyeing the stripes of light from the door, once more unbroken.

“Ah, yes. Please continue.”

“Well, like I was saying, I didn’t really even think about joining the WLM until I saw you for the second time. My mother, under the permission of WLM leadership, was able to explain the bare minimum about the WLM. She didn’t need to say it, but she told me I couldn’t join because I was too young. I asked if I could watch the training sometimes, and she and the WLM agreed, although first I had to take a solemn oath of secrecy, which I did.”

“I wrote the oath,” Anna murmurs, staring at the ceiling once more.

“I didn’t know that,” Maia says. “I watched the women train several times, enjoying the way they moved, all graceful and coordinated. It was almost like dancing. Soon they began fighting each other, and I remember having to clean up my mother’s bloodied noses and other nicks and cuts on many occasions. She was getting stronger all the time, more capable, one of the better fighters in the group. I was proud of her.

“I still practiced the movements, but now I didn’t have to hide it from my mother. She didn’t encourage me exactly, but she didn’t try to stop me either. Soon I knew them by heart, and even began joining in at training, although they wouldn’t permit me to stand in line with the other women. But even tucked in the corner I felt like a part of the group.”

“But you weren’t—not really,” Anna says.

“No, I wasn’t. But then my mother told me she had to go away for a few days, and that a neighbor would be looking after me. When I asked her where she was going, she admitted that it was a WLM conference. I begged her to let me come with her, and to my surprise, she agreed. Of course, she cleared it with the WLM first, who had apparently grown quite fond of having me around.