I love you guys. I seriously did not expect this reaction, I'm so touched. So thank you! And I'm sorry I have the tendency to end every chapter in a cliffhanger-misplaced anger from all the books I've read and shows I've watched. Indirect revenge, you can call it. (And sorry in advance, because I will probably keep doing it.)
Tondc was already swarming to life when Clarke came from the council room, shouts clashing with the alarms that continued to pierce the air. Orders were given in fragments, but whether they'd heard or not, some men were racing to the lock room.
Clarke's heart slammed against her ribcage as she went against the tidal wave of grounders and to the borders of the village. Indra had been the first to arrive, shouting out directives around her.
"What's happening?" Clarke yelled over the roar of alarms and panicked civilians.
Indra barked something in Trianesleng. "Ice scouts were spotted," she said across to her.
Clarke stiffened. This wasn't supposed to happen yet; not so soon after the Boat People. The Ice Nation should have needed time to plan, to coordinate. The fact that they'd already arranged a strategy instilled fear in her, trickling down her spine like cold water, but she masked her apprehension."Have they made a move?"
"Not-"
Fire suddenly leapt up from one of the roofs, a lone flame that grew instantaneously. Then more flames appeared, tendrils bursting in small clusters.
"Fire arrows," Clarke murmured. "They're trying to draw everyone out!"
"Clarke!" Bellamy's voice cut through the chaos and she turned to the direction it had came from, just when he appeared before her. His eyes were wide and glazed but Clarke didn't allow herself to focus on him. "Arm the grounders," she told him. "I want guards stationed around the perimeter."
Before she had even finished talking, Bellamy was already following her orders.
"Tyrell!" Clarke looked over at the older man. "Do not spare any stronger grounders, but get these fires put out!"
He simply nodded before disappearing into the pandemonium.
Clarke's breathing turned shallow as she surveyed the mayhem; the people running to put out the fires; the arrows that continued to fall like stars out of the sky; the screams coming from the children.
"Indra," Clarke looked at the grounderchief. "Get all the children to a safe house. Someplace that won't burn."
Indra looked like she wanted to argue, but she did as Clarke ordered.
"Get those fires put out!" Clarke shouted again, seeing as more flames sprung from the roofs. She searched the area, squinting through the wafting smoke tht snaked through the air.
"Clarke!" Octavia appeared through the haze, breathing heavily and choking on smoke.
"Where's Lincoln?" Clarke asked.
Octavia motioned behind her. "He's over-"
Clarke started in the direction, faltering as more fire caught her attention, patches of light dancing over the rooftops. She felt more fear settle in her gut as she calculated the damage being done. So far, no lives had been taken from their sides, but it was little consolation. It was only a matter of time.
"Lincoln!"
There was a crack that sounded in the distance, like a clap of thunder. A moment passed and then the noise seemed to shatter, into a million pieces that rained around the village.
Clarke dropped to her knees and covered her head as the gunfire began, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from-the grounders or the Ice Nation. She crawled on her hands and knees to one of the homes, the stone foundation offering more safety than ones assembled from thatchwork. Smoke made its way into her nose and burned like acid and she gagged. She scrambled to her feet, and pressed her back to the cold stone.
She tried to map out the points of conflict in her head; the gunfire was coming from the east, and Clarke tried to devise some sort of plan from that, but the sheets of flailing bullets, fire, and choking smoke was making it difficult to concentrate.
She grabbed at the nearest grounder she could, a young man not much older than her. She didn't care who he was or what position he had. As long as he knew how to run.
"I want more guards on the east side!" She told him. "But no guard leaves their post! The Ice Nation could be using this as a distraction to come around the west!"
The man stood there ,dumbfounded, for a moment.
"Move!" She shouted and he sprang into action, running where she'd told him to and kicking up dirt in his wake.
Clarke transferred her focus to their other current issue. A well stood nearby, partially hidden by the few grounders retrieving water to put out the fire. But it wasn't enough.
She pushed her way through and took a pail from a boy. One look at him, and she knew he was too young.
Clarke stopped another grounder before he could reach the well. "Get him to the safe house!" Clarke ordered and he seemed to understand her as she thrust the boy at him. He nodded and steered the child away.
Clarke dipped the pail into the water and ran to the nearest home. She hefted up the bucket and tossed it over the largest flame she saw. It sputtered and choked but bounded back to life and she returned to the well.
"We need more people over here!" She bellowed, plunging the pail over the lip of the cover.
"Its a war zone!" Someone shouted back and Clarke turned to an older woman who'd spoken. Clarke's voice came out an order. "If the village burns, we lose shelter. And supplies. Which makes us a target." She handed off the pail and pointed its bearer to the flames.
Then Clarke left the well behind, still ducking at the sounds of gunfire. She approached the nearest grounders that weren't Warriors, dismissing their fearful expressions. "Go to the well!" She shouted, but at their confused, terror-stricken eyes, she stopped as the realization hit her.
They didn't understand. The only ones who spoke English were those who she already had on the front lines. She wracked her memory for the Trikru word that meant water. "Uh, aq...aquay?" she tried.
That wasn't it.
"A-agua?" She shook her head in desperation. But then someone caught her eye and she forced her way over, skirting around those trample-potential, led by panic and fear. "Lincoln!"
His head jerked in her direction, and he headed for her. They were nearing the center of the village and Clarke was almost there when she stumbled over something And tripped. She hit the ground hard, rocks digging into her palms and she looked down.
She came face to face with a fallen grounder, his dark glassy eyes gazing up at her.
The woman had been right. It was a war zone. And the broken man before Clarke told her what she'd feared. That bullets were coming this way, which meant that the Ice Nation was closing in, and the first life in this war had been taken.
Lincoln grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "I can't find Octavia!" He shouted over the roar of gunfire.
Clarke forgot the dead man at her feet. "She's fine!" Or was, when she'd last seen her. "Lincoln, I need you to tell people to put out the fires! The smoke offers coverage but also for the Ice scouts or whatever it is they have coming!"
He must have agreed because he gave her a curt nod. He started from the grounder closest to him, speaking something in triangeslang.
"And make sure the safe house is secure!" Clarke added, before turning her back to them. She hit the ground again when more bullets came, but stood back up as quickly as she could, across the heart of the village and to the east side.
But a hot burst of pain made her stumble and her knee crumpled.
She gasped at the agony that licked around her thigh like fire, but forced herself to rise. Her leg shook unsteadily as she moved and she saw the stain of red blooming over the fabric.
Flesh wound. grazed.
Clarke willed her feet to move faster, shrugging off the lance of pain that came with each footfall. More bullets richocheted but Clarke focused on the east side, not stopping until she made it.
She wove through the stationed guards, guns pointed outward and firing a round of bullets, brass littering the ground around her. She didn't stop until she heard Bellamy, shouting out commands to the guards.
Clarke stopped beside him. "Any change?" she asked.
He glanced across at her. "They don't seem to be expanding their attack," he reported. "I don't like it."
"Think it's a diversion?"
Bellamy cocked his gun. "That's exactly what I think. I'm going around to check the perimeter."
"I already have guards stationed there. But I need updates. I'm coming with you."
Bellamy knew better than to argue-understood he had no right to, and pulled off one of his firearms. He held it out to her and she took it firmly in her hands.
"Shoot on sight!" he told the guards and began speedwalking away from them, stopping as more gunfire was unleashed. Clarke followed suit, shoving her back into the mossy stone of the entryway. Bellamy gazed around them, scrutinizing the damage the same way she had done.
"Those fires aren't helping," He snapped.
"Lincoln's rounding up some people to help put them out," Clarke said. "I sent Indra to collect all the children and put them in a safe house."
Bellamy looked at her. "Good. I have Scouts stationed at every corner. But I want to make sure they aren't coming around back."
Clarke nodded approvingly, grimacing as more pain erupted from her wound. She was aware of Bellamy's sudden gaze, reading her expression before falling to her leg.
"You're hurt," he stated, and she heard the disapproval in his voice. But Clarke just met his eyes. "It's fine," she bit out. And it was. If she wasn't on the floor being steadily drained of blood, than this was nothing.
Bellamy looked at her skeptically. "That'll slow you down."
"It won't."
Clarke knew he wanted to object, but he must have realized the vanity of it, and raised his gun. "Ready?" he asked.
She nodded.
Bellamy turned away from her swiftly and walked quickly, his steps lithe and careful among the bedlam. When distant gunfire sounded to their right, they both ducked, but Bellamy didn't fire any rounds. "The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves," he explained, but Clarke had assumed as much already.
She gripped her hand around her own weapon as they continued. He stopped at the statue, the carved face glaring down at them impassively. Its stony eyes watched them as they passed, until they were standing in the mouth of the opening.
"We'll have to climb over," Bellamy said, shouldering his weapon. "They'll be watching the doors like a hawk. Over here." He motioned to an area slick with stone but easy enough to scale. It wasn't far and seemed easy enough.
He looked at her once. "I don't suppose there's any good in telling you not to do this."
Clarke gazed back at him. "You go up first," she said, jerking her chin towards it.
He didn't look away from her for a single beat.
"That's what I thought," he muttered as he clambered up the stone surface, reaching a hand down to help her up. She used purchases to hold herself to the stone and Bellamy kept ahead, assisting her where he could. Her leg throbbed, but Clarke shoved the feeling away, until they'd reached the top of it. A drop fell below them but Bellamy wasted no time. He pitched himself over and Clarke heard his soft landing.
Clarke allowed herself a small breath and nothing more as she dropped, too, the air whistling by her before the impact came.
Heat laced up her leg and she bit her lip, but stayed upright.
Bellamy pulled off his gun and held it aloft again, keeping it trailed on the trees. "You okay?" he asked, keeping his eyes where the barrel of the gun was on.
Clarke didn't bother answering. She just unshouldered her own gun and started walking, sidestepping large knots of roots and anything else that could cause much noise. She was almost tempted to split up, but thought better of it. They had no way of signaling each other and could do more harm than good.
The farther they trekked, the more on edge Clarke became, but she kept her hands steady. Shouts and gunfire still blasted around them, but it was no longer aimed in their direction. The only thing surrounding them were the trees, and somewhere beneath their branches, Ice Scouts.
It was possible they'd already been seen, but no move had been made. Besides the distant gunfire, the woods remained undisturbed where they were.
"I don't like this," Clarke echoed his earlier words, keeping her eyes on the trees' silhouette. It was too untouched. Too still.
She took Bellamy's silence as agreement. Instead of replying, he stepped around her cautiously, taking the lead.
"You don't have to do that," she told him, voice barely above a whisper.
Neither of them removed their eyes from the trees. "I'm your Second, Clarke," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "That means I'm the one that's supposed to take the risks."
Clarke shook her head slightly, but didn't reply, eyeing every shadow with contempt. Instinct screamed at her to pull the trigger, to make herself known to whatever threat stayed hidden in the darkness, but she didn't. She kept going in silence, until a twig snapped and she froze.
In front of her, Bellamy lifted a hand, gesturing for her to stay still and quiet.
Clarke complied without question, but took another step forward, until she stood beside him. She squinted to see through the darkness, and then she saw it.
Two men, clothed in gear too dark it blended with the night. The only reason she'd noticed them at all was the way their outlines didn't math the woods behind them. "Is there more?" she asked him, the words carried to him on her breath.
Bellamy gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "What are they waiting for?"
It wasn't hard to guess. "A signal."
As if her words had reaped it themselves, a flaming arrow fell from above, and dug its tip into the ground in front of the men. They instantly stood, but so quietly, so catlike, it was as if they'd dawned shadows and disappeared into them.
"We need to call for the guards," Bellamy whispered, but Clarke was already shaking her head. "We can't make it back in time." She didn't want to give them an opportunity to flee and raised her gun.
Bellamy clamped his hand around the weapon's forearm and lowered it to the ground. "Not yet," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "We'll fire on my count, all right? And remember to stay quiet. Whatever happens."
Determination furrowed his brows and Clarke looked back at him as she eased her finger from the trigger guard. "Okay," she said.
"One," Bellamy started, taking a step closer to her.
"Two," he broke their gaze and turned It fully on the men before him.
Before he got to three, Clarke felt something grip her arm and she looked across at it, just long enough to see his fingers wrapped around there. An alarm went off in her mind and a second later, she was pulled back.
The force knocked her off her feet and her back smacked against the ground. Pain scoured up her tendon and she tied to breathe but the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Her nails dugs into the ground until it returned and she pulled her head up, just enough to catch the familiar figure of Bellamy before he released a shower of bullets at the men.
But the Ice scouts didn't fall. They just disappeared again, smoothly and without trouble as if they'd been expecting them.
A coldness settled over Clarke and she scrambled for her gun that had been tossed like the air from her chest. Her fingers grasped around nozzle, and she lifted it. She froze when a gunshot sounded, instantly followed by a cry of pain. It penetrated the air and she stared, almost transfixed by the sight of Bellamy, as he collapsed to one leg.
Clarke pointed the weapon again.
But he was suddenly blocked from her vision, by a pair of darkly-clad men. And helplessness expanded over Clarke as she saw it wasn't just the two men they'd spotted, but more. Many more. They stepped from behind trees, appeared from beneath brush and she felt as if the air had been knocked from her again.
This hadn't been their trap.
It had been the Ice Nation's.
Clarke took aim once more, but was finding it difficult to make Bellamy out from the rest. She still tried, though, aware as her breath spurted from her in quick gasps and panic settled over her, blanketing her in a relentless cold. She wanted to fire, to mow down every one of those men, because Clarke was all-too familiar with what the Ice Scouts would do next.
They would either kill him, or take him to inflict things far worse than death.
But Clarke also knew she couldn't take on a dozen men alone and she grasped at any possibility. Any chance.
"I'm the one that's supposed to take the risks."
No, she thought. Not this time. Not him.
Do something, her mind screamed and she tried. But to fire would mean to put his life in even greater danger. And to step in and stop it, was to put all the grounders' lives in the same position.
Clarke felt her vision blur and it was suddenly like she was reliving that day on the drop ship, catching the last glimpse of him and Finn before leaving them to burn beyond their door.
No, there had to be something. Anything, but Clarke knew it better than anyone. It's why Bellamy had pushed her down. It was why he'd taken the risk and refused to let her partake in it beside him.
"Stay quiet. Whatever happens."
She distantly noted that the gunfire had ceased, but Clarke didn't lower her own weapon, well aware she couldn't fire it. But then Bellamy's gasp of pain made its way to her again and her concern was lost.
Just one, she reconsidered, and pulled the trigger.
It stayed true to its mark, punching through the chest of the man she'd aimed it at.
"I can't lose you, too," she heard her own voice chime.
But instead of making the Ice Scouts stop, it spurred them on. And Clarke watched in utter powerlessness as they disappeared back into the shadows, with Bellamy at the heart of them.