Spot fires burn and swallow the air around Lexa as she continues to pick her way through the carnage of what her warriors had brought upon those they chased. Wherever the red smoke has touched, fire seems to ignite with little help from the simmering embers of torches and camp fires. Where the remnants of red smoke touches, fires burn, it clings to tree trunk and spreads fire where it pleases as if spurred by some unseen hand. The air still stinks of its stench, it makes her nostrils twitch and Lexa tries not to breathe too deeply as she steps passed a burning patch of red dyed grass.
A body lies nearby, an arrow embedded in a chest, and Lexa takes only enough time to register that the body is not one of hers before she turns her attention away and to those that are kept on their knees on the ground, hands bound behind their backs, swords pressed to throats and bodies beaten, broken, bruised and battered.
Those who kneel before her seem weary and tired, their bodies fatigued from the days of fleeing and the moments of violence. And yet, Lexa sees a belief in some eyes and she knows some spirits not yet broken.
"Bring the prisoner," Lexa says and from the corner of her eye she sees Anya pull forward the woman they had captured earlier.
It takes only a moment before Anya kicks out the woman's legs and has her kneeling with her compatriots. Lexa remains silent as she looks over the few before her, she lets the heat of the burning spot fires warm her body and she lets the stinging of the air from the red smoke bring discomfort to those who remain closest to the scorched earth. Her own warriors remain silent as they watch on, hands gripping their drawn weapons, some with attentions directed into the surrounding forests lest they come under attack, others keenly on guard lest the prisoners attempt to flee.
Lexa takes a moment to register the way Costia stands nearby, the woman's bow held in her hands, her gaze narrowed and the scar across her cheek glinting in the firelight. Costia's emotions are drawn across her face more openly than Lexa allows for herself, and she knows Costia fears for Ontari in some way, perhaps somewhere as deeply as she fears for Clarke's wellbeing since her disappearance.
But Lexa smothers the thought almost as soon as it appears as she begins to walk up and down the row of kneeling prisoners with a slow prowl she knows unnerving in the silence that lingers.
A prisoner whimpers as Lexa passes him, another grunts out as one of her warriors shifts the blade more tightly across their throat in warning. She comes to a stop before the original prisoner they had captured in the forests earlier and she can't quite decide whether she wishes to kill now, or to imprison forever.
"What is your name?" Lexa asks, voice ever so calm.
The woman looks up at her, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, face weary and shoulders hunched.
"Helia," she says simply.
Lexa thinks for a silent moment, and she considers all that has happened. She knows Ilian to be responsible for the attack at the Polis gates. She knows he has freed Teben, the prisoner who had at times seemed willing to help and at others seemed resigned to an early death. Lexa knows that tech is at the centre of whatever conflict has taken place. She understands enough to know that many within the clans distrust its use and still fear it. And she sighs. She sighs a weary sound that is part annoyance, and part acceptance that things have not settled as well as she had wished they did since the Mountain's fall. She looks back at those kneeling before her and though they come from different clans, she finds herself recognising the same belief upon their faces.
She looks up into the sky and tries to judge the time, and she thinks it long enough now that Jenma and the Azgeda sent to Arkadia would have encountered resistance by now, she knows enough that if Arkadia was the real target then she would have been informed.
And so it's a realisation that slowly begins to settle within her mind, it's a realisation that slowly begins to solidify and make more and more sense the longer she considers. Lexa looks from face to face kneeling before her and she registers that almost all clans are represented, no one clan seems to lead more than another.
"Blindfold them all," Lexa says into the silence as she turns and motions for Gustus, Anya and Costia to approach her.
"Heda?" Anya asks quietly as they gather a few short paces from the kneeling prisoners.
"These prisoners are merely a distraction," Lexa says as she looks at Anya. "It matters not if they survive, or if they die. They were only needed to delay our approach to the Mountain and to make it uncertain as to whether Arkadia or the Mountain was the target."
"Why do you think this?" Costia asks.
"They are resigned to their fate, whatever that may be," Lexa says. "They accepted their deaths in the forest long ago," but from the way Anya's eyes narrow a fraction Lexa knows her not fully convinced. "These things are fact," Lexa begins once more. "Firstly, Ilian hid in plain sight, secondly, no single clan is responsible for these attacks. These people are allied by the singular belief that tech is evil."
"Zealots," Costia says.
"Yes," Lexa answers.
"But you believe their goal is the Mountain? Why? What for?" Anya asks.
"They steal tech, yes?" Lexa says.
"They also experiment with it," Gustus says quietly as he gestures to a pile of tech they have recovered from the prisoners.
"Where can tech be found in high concentrations?" Lexa asks.
"The Mountain," Gustus answers.
"Arkadia, too," Costia says.
"What of the villages nearest to the Mountain — Ton DC, Lingto, Hesda. They all have stores of tech that Skaikru shares," Anya challenges. "Are you sure the Mountain is their goal? What happens if we commit and are wrong?"
"I agree with Anya," Costia says. "The Mountain is too well guarded. They have no hope of attacking. What if these rebels mean to attack these villages all at once? We will not have enough warriors to defend them if we send them to the Mountain instead."
Lexa thinks for a moment longer before she shakes her head, "no," it comes out with a conviction she finds herself truly believing. "Where else can large numbers of different clans gather without drawing suspicion? Where else could people be discovered with tech without drawing too much suspicion? Where else is tech used so openly, where it is shared? Where it is left around for all to use without suspicion?"
"The Mountain," Gustus says as he folds his arms across his broad chest, eyes narrowing as a frown begins to form.
Anya looks at Costia for only a moment before she turns back to face her, and Lexa sees an understanding and recognition in the woman's eyes.
"The Mountain is their goal, whatever that may be," Costia says simply.
"Yes," Lexa says.
And so Anya nods, straightens her back and Lexa sees the woman's acceptance in the way she shifts posture, in the way she already readies herself for whatever fight is to come.
"Where do you believe the rebels to be hiding?" Gustus asks.
Lexa thinks she knows and so she answers with a simple, "reaper tunnels."
Anya nods her own agreement but Lexa sees Costia turn to look at the prisoners before turning back to her.
"What of the prisoners?" Costia asks as she gestures back.
"Shana," Lexa calls out her handmaiden's name.
she hears the approach of feet before Shana calls out, "Heda?"
"Take however many warriors you need and bring the prisoners to Ton DC. If they attempt to flee, or if they try to attack in any way you have my permission to execute them," Lexa says as Shana comes to stand before her. "Do not risk your own safety for theirs."
"Understood heda," Shana says, and though Lexa knows the handmaiden would prefer to remain by her side, she knows Shana will do as instructed without protest.
And so Lexa nods to those around her as she finds herself partly anticipating whatever conflict is to come, but also dreading what she may find if she is too late.
Torches burn where they hang from sconces bolted to the walls, the heat from the flame sits heavily in the air and the Mountain seems more claustrophobic than Ontari ever remembers it being. Part of it could have been due to the vast number of Azgeda warriors injured in the explosion now taking up almost all available hospital beds, and part of it could simply be because her vision hadn't quite returned enough for her to see much more than blurred shapes with the spattering of cleared clarity.
Ontari can be thankful that the groans of pain have died down since she first arrived at the Mountain. It's not something she isn't unfamiliar with, but still, she finds it unsettling, if only because it reminds her of times she'd rather forget.
"Look up," the voice says and Ontari winces as she looks up at the light held in the Skaikru healer's hand.
The stitches holding her cheek together already begin to itch, and she can't help but to worry that whatever scar she is to gain will have marred those across her cheek that mark her as a warrior from Ronto. Even the paste slathered across the wound irritates her nose and makes her want to sneeze with each breath she takes.
"Look to your left," the healer says and Ontari follows the blurred light as she peers left and tries not to grimace at the pull in her shoulder.
"Your eyes are getting better," the man says and Ontari blinks as the light closes in on one of her eyes. "But you'll still need these eyedrops until they're fully healed," and Ontari senses him write something down on whatever he must be holding in his hands.
"How is Entani?" she asks, her words partly slurred as she speaks from the corner of her mouth.
"Asleep still," he says and Ontari isn't surprised, if only because she doesn't expect Entani to wake from whatever concoction of drugs she has been given since coming to the Mountain.
"When will she be seen to further?" Ontari asks.
"There's other's who are more seriously hurt," he says, and though Ontari knows the man means well, she can't help but feel an annoyance at his insistence that Entani's injuries are not as severe as others. "Your friend's wounds are severe, but she's stable, as long as she doesn't move too much she's going to be fine."
Ontari feels her lip beginning to twitch into a snarl before she feels the stitches pull and sting.
"Hopefully it's just broken ribs. Nothing as serious as last time."
Ontari simply nods at that as she sees the blurry image of the man rise from in front of her before gesturing somewhere she can't quite discern.
"I'll be back in a few hours to check on you both."
Ontari waits until the healer leaves before she makes a sound somewhere between frustration and annoyance. She feels restless, full of pent up frustration, but her body aches, it protests every little movement she makes and she can't help but want to scream her frustrations into the open. the shimmering movement of people walking back and forth before her draws her attention and Ontari tries to force herself to see, she tries to force herself to focus on the details. The harder she looks the more she feels her eyes ache but the more she thinks she can see. She thinks she sees the outline of an axe strapped to a warrior's back, she thinks she sees what could be a child clambering atop something they shouldn't, and she thinks she sees a horse, perhaps even a donkey, or maybe just a bench in the distance laden with things she can only assume to be are suppli—
"What are you looking at?"
Ontari startles at the voice, her head whips around in its direction and she curses the strain in her shoulder and the pain in her cheek.
"Sorry," the voice says.
It takes Ontari only a moment longer before she places the voice to the name she knows it belongs to.
"Raven?" and she finds her vision settling on a slightly blurry figure standing over her from where she remains seated on the edge of a bed.
"That's me," Raven says, her voice light but weary, but Ontari thinks Raven must see whatever state her eyes are in for she hears a quiet gasp.
"What are you doing?" Ontari asks, if only because she doesn't want to linger on the fact she remains handicapped.
"I've been setting up tech in the Mountain," Raven answers and Ontari senses the other woman take a seat in what she assumes to be a chair nearby. "I heard about the injured — it's kind of hard not to, I guess. So I'm down here to help if I can."
Though Ontari knows Raven not to be a healer, she can at least admire the fact that Raven wishes to help in whatever way she can.
"I heard about Clarke," Raven continues quietly, and Ontari feels her own sense of muted anger and worry beginning to return. "We'll find her."
"Yes," is all Ontari can manage as she settles her gaze on Raven's form before her. "What are you doing with tech?" Ontari says, in part to take her mind off the worry, and in part because she wonders if Raven has heard anything of Ilian and what his allies do.
"Stuff to do with plumbing, water supply and stuff," Raven says, and Ontari knows Raven keeps her explanation simple for her sake, but she doesn't know if she should be insulted or appreciative of that fact.
"I see," Ontari says only to scowl at her poor choice as words as she looks away.
"Where's the big guy?" Raven asks, and Ontari knows she talks of Torvun, who she had angrily discovered had vanished hours earlier.
"Gone," Ontari says with a one sided shrug, but she suspects he has gone to track, to hunt, to do something other than lie haplessly impotent while others continue to hunt the rebels
"Tell me if you need anything," Raven says eventually. "I'm not really good with the doctor stuff, but I can get you more medicine or food or something if you need it."
"No," Ontari says with a shake of her head. "I am fine," she looks to her side at where Entani remains sleeping.
"Entani's still sleeping," Raven offers.
She turns back to where Raven was seated to find that the woman must be standing from the silhouette before her.
"Perhaps food would be good," Ontari says then, if only because she knows Entani will be hungry when she next wakes.
"Sure," Raven says, and Ontari thinks the woman smiles from her tone. "Food I can do."
And so Ontari tries to smile her own smile as she nods her head and begins to lie back down on her bed.
"Thank you, Raven," Ontari says it quietly, perhaps so it doesn't carry too far, but she knows Raven hears it from the way the woman seems to pause mid step and lift an arm in an unhurried wave.
"No problem."
Clarke stumbles over the gravel underfoot. Though her headache has subsided somewhat, she has little to be thankful for because that pain seems to have migrated to her feet, where each step she takes causes aches and pains to protest. She is sure her feet will be blistered, perhaps even bleeding and the thought of an annoying recovery fills her with little more than dreaded frustration.
She isn't certain but from the way the temperature around her has changed, and from the subtle lack of rustle leaves that had once been heard all around her, she thinks herself either underground somewhere. There is even a distinct lack of warmth from the sun, the only thing to replace it being the gentle directional heat of a torch held somewhere overhead.
She doesn't hear it at first, but after the third or forth time, Clarke realises that she can hear the sound of others in the distance, their voices hushed and quiet. She even thinks she can hear their words echoing off cavernous walls around her.
A strong hand grips her shoulder and pulls her up then, and from the familiarity of the motion she knows Ilian has brought her to a standstill. Ilian pushes down on her shoulder, the pressure enough to force her tired legs to fold under her. It's half relief and half pain she feels as she comes to sit on the rocky ground beneath her.
Clarke feels the cold bite of a knife slip between her bound wrists before the rope typing them together is cut and then the blindfold is pulled from her eyes. Clarke is greeted to a darkened and familiar scene. She sits on the ground in the centre of a long tunnel or stone. Tracks run the length and gravel lays strewn about. She feels a shiver run down her spine at the memories she has had in the reaper tunnels before her eyes adjust fully to the dimmed light.
Ilian kneels in front of her, the man's face weary and exhausted. It takes Clarke a moment longer to realise that one of Ilian's arms is bandaged from a wound he sustained recently. His eyes seem bloodshot and tired and a frown has taken permanent residence between his eyebrows that emphasises the dot tattoos down the centre of his forehead.
Clarke's gaze moves to Teben who stands a little ways off. She leans against the tunnel wall, her eyes cast down to the ground as if lost in thought. But Clarke doesn't linger too long on the woman for she finds her attention drawn to the movement behind Ilian.
Others move about quietly in the shadows, some with weapons strapped to their bodies, others with arms full of what Clarke realises are the red smoke canisters.
And it is with that sight that Clarke begins to feel a dread and an apprehension beginning to fill as she takes in more and more of the scene before her.
"What are you doing, Ilian?" she asks, her voice hoarse and dry.
"What we must, Clarke," Ilian says, and Clarke finds it so very hard to reconcile the fanatical glint taking place in Ilian's eyes from the quiet guard who had stood behind his ambassador and given measured responses when called upon.
"What are you doing, Ilian?" Clarke asks again as her gaze follows a man, slender framed and tall as he hefts a basket of canisters onto his shoulder before beginning to walk down the tunnel.
"I have lost so many people to the Mountain's evil, Clarke," Ilian said quietly. "Brother. Father. Friends."
Clarke doesn't know what to do other than to stare helplessly as she watches a man, clearly a warrior from the corder muscles of his arms as he holds a large sword in one hand, and another basket of canisters in the other.
"Teben lost her sister to the Mountain," Ilian says as he gestures to Teben whose gaze still remains focused on the ground. "Everyone here has lost someone to the Mountain."
"What are you doing?" Clarke asks, and this time she can't help but to feel the panic beginning to rise more forcefully as images of death, of destruction and ambush begin to fill her mind.
"We will destroy the Mountain forever, Clarke, with your help, or without it," and Ilian's eyes harden. "If you help us no one must die — no one needs to die. But if you choose not to, then we will be forced to attack, we will be forced to defend ourselves as we rid the lands of the Mountain."
"Ilian, stop. Please," Clarke shakes her head to try and rid her mind of the memories already returning about the last time she had been forced to make a decision that would seal the fate of all those living in the Mountain.
"You must decide now, Clarke," Ilian says. "Will you help u—?"
"—Just wait," Clarke almost snaps it as she tries to rise to her feet only to be pushed down onto the ground again by an unseen person she didn't even realise stood behind her.
"An answer, Clarke," Ilian says. "I nee—"
"—Tell me wha—" she grimaces as she struggles against the hand on her shoulder and the blade she now feels pressed against the small of her back. "You can't destroy the Mountain," Clarke says through grit teeth. "There's wounded there," she is sure the Azgeda wounded from the explosion must have been sent either to the Mountain or to Arkadia. There would certainly be other wounded there regardless. "The clans need the Mountain. We need it, Ilian."
"We will rebuild," Ilian says as he shakes his head. "Arkadia, Skaikru all have tech," he says as he gestures behind him. "We made sure of it," he says. "The tech we stole? It is found everywhere. The Mountain's loss will not affec—"
"That's not how it works," Clarke says, and this time she feels anger and annoyance building. "That's not how any of this works," she wants to scream now, she wants to thrash, to do something more than remain forcefully seated on the ground listening to someone who has it all wrong. "How many people has the Mountain helped since we killed the Mountain Men?" Clarke asks. "How many? Hundreds, thousands?" and she tries to stand once more only to be forced back down. "It would take us years to rebuild what the Mountain has right now. If you destroy it we lose everyth—"
"How many people has the Mountain killed?" Ilian snaps. "Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?" and he rises with an awkward limp before coming to loom over her. "We believed the Mountain destroyed during its siege yet it plagued our lands still. We believed the Mountain destroyed when we hunted the last of the Mountain Men yet its spirit corrupted Nia. It almost shattered Azgeda in two."
"But it didn't," Clarke challenges. "It. Didn't."
"It will again," Ilian says.
"You're a fool," Clarke says, this time it comes out exasperated. "You're a fool and you don't understand. Did you think I was going to give you a reward for this stupid plan of yours? You don't understand, Ilian. We will lose years of progresses if you destroy the Mountain. People will die without the Mountain's help."
"We will rebuild," Ilian's voice comes out hard now, and Clarke finds herself unable to see the measured man she had once known from her time in Polis. "Now choose," Ilian says. "Will you help us, or will you be responsible for the deaths in the Mountain?"
Clarke looks past Ilian and to the people still gathering supplies deeper into the tunnel. She knows they have enough numbers to attack, especially with the use of the red smoke. But Clarke can't see another way out of this, not yet, not when she has no weapons, not when she has no way of understanding Ilian's ultimate goal.
"If I help you have to promise no one will die," Clarke says as she looks up at Ilian.
Surprise flashes across his face at her sudden change in tone before being replaced by suspicion.
"I have always done what is best for my people," Clarke says, her voice hardening. "You know that. Everyone knows that," and she grits her teeth. "My people coming out of this alive is best for my people. So if I help? You need to swear to me that no one will die."
Ilian remains quiet for a long moment as he considers her words, and Clarke can see his mind turning, considering and discarding thought and plan and scenario.
"You will tell everyone in the Mountain to leave it," Ilian says.
"I'm supposed to just tell them to leave?" Clarke doesn't know if Ilian is joking, or if he truly believes everyone in the Mountain will do as she says.
"No," Ilian says as he shakes his head. "There will be a threat to the Mountain and you will help convince those that the threat is real, that it is dangerous."
"What threat?" Clarke asks, but as she eyes another basket of red smoke canisters she thinks she already knows.
Ilian must sense where her gaze is directed for he simply smiles tightly before continuing.
"Once everyone is out of the Mountain, and once we ensure no one is left, we will seal it so that no one may enter it again."
"How will you do that?" Clarke asks, and this time she finds herself truthfully curious as to how Ilian plans to do that.
"Not of your concern," he says simply. "I told you the truth, Clarke," he continues. "I do not wish for anyone to die. I did not wish for anyone to die. If you help me, if you help us, no one else will die, too," Ilian comes to kneel before her now, his face a little softer, his eyes a little kinder as he comes face to face with her. "Will you help us, Clarke?"
And so Clarke takes one last moment to collect her thoughts before she takes in a deep breath.
"Ok."