They arrived without warning: a pair of republican Swallow-class fighter planes and a troopship flew over the velivus, opening fire without preamble. Antony, Samuel and Dawn managed to get away from the craft just before an explosive charge blew it to pieces. From there began a flight through the nearby hills, as the fighters hounded the rebels, waiting to strike if they revealed themselves.

  With no woods close enough to hide in, the three lads took shelter beneath a rocky overhang, in a kind of gully between the hills. There the fighters cannot hit them, but neither is there any way to flee.

  “We’ve only got two rifles, almost out of rounds, and the pistols,” Antony sums up. “Soldiers will soon be coming down from the troopship to flush us out. Let’s find some good defensive points.”

  He and his brother position themselves among the surrounding rocks to cover the two exposed flanks of their refuge. Dawn checks her pistol, cleaned of mud and water during the journey, and places herself beside Samuel.

  Hours pass, during which the republican aircraft land somewhere nearby. At one point, the junior sergeant mutters:

  “They’ve surrounded us.”

  Dawn cannot see where the soldiers are, but her brother has a sharper eye than hers. If he says so, then it is true.

  The three stay under cover, waiting. As no attack comes, Antony concludes:

  “I don’t think there are many of them. Apart from that earlier charge, they don’t have any explosives weapons either. They don’t want to take risks. They must be waiting for reinforcements—or for the cover of darkness.”

  “I was certain I’d shaken them off,” Samuel whispers. “I wonder how they found us.”

  “Perhaps they placed a mayea on the velivus to track it,” his brother supposes. “Or maybe they’re very skilled pilots.”

  “More than me? I’d be curious to meet them.”

  “That may well happen soon… but with your rifles.”

  Antony looks at Dawn.

  “We’re at a disadvantage, but we could still make it,” he tells her. “But… if things go badly, and you realise you can’t win… surrender. There’s no sense in dying for nothing.”

  The girl hesitates for a moment before nodding.

  The sun sets. Darkness falls swiftly among the hills, making it difficult to distinguish the surrounding crags. Unfortunately, the enemy knows exactly where the rebels are, while the Sanders struggle to pick out their positions. The advantage of being on the defensive is slowly ebbing away.

  The shooting begins once Selene and the stars stand out sharply in the sky. A couple of mayeutic darts strike the rocks behind which the three take cover. Unable to waste rounds, they choose not to return fire straight away. Soon, however, they are forced to shoot back to keep the enemy from closing in.

  Thus the clash begins. It seems no one is hit, but little by little the Republicans start to advance, using diversions to make the trio cover one side while another group draws closer from the other. Hounded and with no plan to get out alive from this situation, the rebels find themselves in a critical position: their shots are numbered, and before long the enemy will be upon them.

  “Watch out!” Antony bursts out at one point.

  From an exposed side, the Republicans are about to climb over the outcrops the three use as a barrier. Samuel and Dawn fire towards them, and the gendarmes duck behind the rocks.

  From another side comes a second assault, made easier by the distraction of the first. The three rebels try to hold it back, but it is clear they are finished. Then…

  … an explosion engulfs the advancing group of enemies, who cry out in surprise as the blast wave hurls them in different directions, tearing their bodies apart.

  “What was that?” Samuel blurts.

  The gunfire suddenly intensifies, but the trajectories are wrong: the darts streaking through the darkness seem to be moving from the hilltops towards the Republicans’ supposed hiding places.

  Antony and Samuel do not stop to think. One targets the soldiers who survived the blast, the other those who have taken cover near the rebels’ refuge. Confusion strikes the enemy, who cannot tell where the unexpected attack is coming from.

  “Let’s go!” Antony orders.

  They opened a breach on one side: it is their chance to escape the enemy’s grip. They abandon the rocky shelter and dash into the space between the hills. A few soldiers give chase, forcing them to turn and fire to cover their retreat.

  They are nearing an outlet between the hills when a Republican suddenly appears before the Sanders. Distracted by those behind them, the three only notice when a rifle is already aimed at them. They are completely exposed, with no way to defend themselves.

  It is then that, hidden by the darkness, a shadow slips swiftly up behind the man. The soldier does not notice, and is about to fire when the figure strikes him with a fierce kick, knocking him to the ground. A swirl of a brown robe, and the unknown saviour kicks away the enemy’s rifle before bringing a knee down on the soldier’s head. The gendarme’s temple smashes against the rocky ground. From that moment, he does not move again.

  The person in the brown robe rises. A hood covers the head, and in the dark the face cannot be seen. The figure looks at the three siblings, then pulls back the hood.

  Thus, the light of Selene falls upon Ethan’s face.

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  “You!” Antony exclaims.

  “Save the formalities for later,” the young man replies. “We need to reach our allies. Quickly—up the hills.”

  The soldiers behind the Sanders are closing in. So the rebels follow the boy, who bounds over the rocks like a deer, leading them along the side of a hill and towards one of the points from which the shots keeping the Republicans pinned are being fired.

  The small group reach some men crouched behind natural cover, busy shooting downwards.

  “My pistol’s empty,” Ethan reports to one of them, a tanned fellow wearing the brown robe of the Resistance.

  “Here you are,” the man says, handing him a weapon.

  The boy inspects it briefly.

  “How are we doing?” he asks.

  “We’ve cut them down,” the man replies. “They never expected an attack from here. We’ve got them in the palm of our hand.”

  Ethan nods, then turns to the Sanders siblings.

  “Those who were chasing you… where did they go?” he asks.

  The three glance back. They have not been followed.

  “How odd…” the young man mutters.

  Then a buzzing fills the air, and something streaks low overhead. The rattle of a machine-gun pounds the ears of those present, and a burst of rounds crashes among the lines keeping the Republicans engaged.

  “They’ve got a fighter back in the air!” Samuel blurts.

  “But we took it out of action!” Ethan exclaims. “Did they have another one over there?!”

  He turns to the man from before:

  “Don’t we have anything to bring it down?”

  “Hey, I don’t keep an armoury in the inn!” the fellow shoots back.

  “I’ll try,” Dawn interjects.

  All eyes fix on her.

  “How?” the tanned man asks.

  “Mayea,” she answers. “This one in particular I don’t know very well, but…”

  “Let’s try it,” the man encourages her.

  As the fighter circles round to launch a second attack, Dawn lifts her hands to chest height, palms upward. She closes her eyes, focusing on visualising a symbol.

  The fighter roars past again, spitting out bursts of fire and drawing cries of dismay. Antony and Samuel place themselves as a shield in front of Dawn, and Ethan joins them. The two brothers glance at him, but he avoids their gaze.

  “Fire,” the girl murmurs.

  The rebel’s hands glow with red light, and two symbols joined by a line of radiance appear upon them. Along that line a flame unfurls, winding about itself like a cocoon.

  In this way, a whirling sphere forms between Dawn’s palms. Ethan feels its searing heat and wonders how the girl can bear it so close to her hands and face. She opens her eyes.

  “I don’t know… if I’ll manage to hit it,” she says, pausing long between each word as she struggles to keep her focus. “I’m… not good at keeping its shape from a distance.”

  “It’s coming back,” Ethan warns. “Do it.”

  The rebel turns her gaze to the fighter, now closing in once more on the group. She waits until the last moment, until the craft is almost upon them. Then she thrusts her arms forward.

  The sphere is hurled into the air, towards the aircraft. At the same time, the plane opens fire, this time right where the Sanders are. Antony and Samuel push Dawn down. Because of this, the sphere veers off, shooting in the wrong direction.

  It will not strike its target.

  Despite the incoming rounds, Ethan remains standing, staring as if spellbound at the fireball as it swerves.

  ???

  I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps it’s the tension of battle… or the knowledge that Dawn’s mayea will not reach its mark… and that therefore the republican fighter will strike again. Whatever the case, though danger looms if I stay transfixed, my eyes lock on the blazing sphere.

  In that moment, my head seems to empty of more immediate, concrete thoughts and feelings… only to fill with fleeting perceptions. I sense… something in that mayea. Or rather… I feel its essence. What lies behind its mere appearance.

  I grasp, like a concept, its nature as energy. And again—there it is… the sensation I felt when I managed to draw forth a supernatural heat from my hand… and before that, when I conjured fire from my palms.

  I have no idea what is happening to me. I do not even care. I sense only that, now, I must follow the flow.

  And trusting it, that is what I do.

  ???

  Slowly, Ethan raises his right hand in a fluid gesture, fingers reaching towards the mayea. His lips move to whisper a word. Dawn is not sure which, but she thinks she hears:

  “Rise.”

  The sphere arcs upward, tracing a curve that redirects it towards the aircraft. It reaches it just as the fighter passes over the rebels, striking the engines on one wing. A cloud of dark smoke pours from the impact point. There is a series of flashes, as though the fireball were lingering somewhere inside the wing. Then one of the engines explodes, and the wing snaps.

  The plane lurches violently, and begins spiralling down towards the ground. After an astonishing plunge, it crashes among the distant hills.

  “Hit!” the tanned man shouts. “Well done, girl!”

  “But…” she says, staring at Ethan.

  He has lowered his hand, still watching the site of the crash. Only for a few moments, though, before turning to scan the battlefield: some of the fighters who came from the hills are moving down to flush out the last Republicans.

  Despite the fighter’s attack, it seems the aircraft had no time to claim victims.

  “We’ve won,” the tanned man comments.

  “Thank you, Mr Ahis,” Ethan tells him.

  “I needed that. Now I feel a little less useless.”

  The boy turns to the Sanders brothers. They glare at him, waiting for explanations.

  “They’re sympathisers of the Resistance,” Ethan explains. “And this man… was a member too.”

  “Before I left,” Ahis specifies.

  “When I saw the velivus destroyed, I went looking for help,” the young man continues. “Mr Ahis called these people… apparently, they’re a sort of militia he’s put together to oppose the local patricians… and by following the tracks, we found you here.”

  “You saw the velivus?” Samuel repeats. “So you went back to the landing site?”

  Ethan nods. He stays silent for a couple of seconds, then declares:

  “I’m sorry for leaving.”

  “We waited for you, you know?” Antony tells him, his tone harsh. “That’s why they caught up with us and attacked. If it hadn’t been for you…”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan repeats. “I had my reasons. But… I also have reasons not to leave.”

  The junior sergeant is on him in an instant, fist clenched. Ethan partly dodges the punch, though it still grazes his cheek. Then the boy answers in kind, landing a blow on Antony’s jaw. At that, the two grab each other by the clothes, glaring with bared teeth.

  “I said I’m sorry!” Ethan snarls.

  “Enough,” Dawn cuts in, stepping between them and shoving them apart.

  Then the rebel turns to the boy.

  “Ethan…” she says.

  And she punches him in the stomach.

  The young man is so taken aback he does nothing to shield himself, and a loud groan escapes with much of the air in his lungs. He staggers back, doubled over. Dawn fixes him with a hard look while he gazes at her with a bewildered, faintly sorrowful expression.

  “Don’t ever leave like that again,” the rebel scolds him firmly. “If you’ve got a problem, we can talk about it. But… but…”

  She breaks off for a moment. Then adds:

  “You said you’d help find my father, didn’t you? Then…”

  “That… is one of the reasons I’m here,” Ethan says, catching his breath.

  “Good!” she says. “I’ll scold you again later! But now…”

  She turns to her brothers.

  “The soldiers had a troopship,” Antony states, trying to mask his dismay at his sister’s intervention. “If we find it, we can leave with that.”

  “It’s over there, beyond the hill,” Ahis points out. “Some of my friends are guarding it. They know Ethan: they won’t give you any trouble.”

  “Thanks for the help,” Samuel says.

  “Go on, go on,” Ahis urges. “We’ll take care of the clean-up.”

  Then, turning to Ethan, the man adds:

  “Good luck.”

  “You’re not going back to the Resistance?” the boy asks.

  “No. Here’s where I need to be now,” Ahis replies. “You heard: there are people with problems with the local patricians. Someone who knows what he’s doing is needed.”

  He smiles.

  “Who knows… one day we might meet again,” he says. “Perhaps when the Resistance rises to overthrow the Dodecagon.”

  “Let’s go,” Antony urges, and starts walking away.

  His siblings are right behind him. After a few paces, though, Dawn turns back towards Ethan, still standing near Ahis.

  “Go,” the man tells the boy.

  The young man hesitates a moment longer. Then he closes the distance to the rebel. She stretches out an arm and, quite without warning, seizes Ethan’s head in an embrace anything but delicate. He tries to pull away, but Dawn holds her grip firm, and with a grin declares:

  “You act all feeble, but then you manage to pull off some really amazing things. Are you mocking us?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy replies.

  “No… I suppose not,” the girl answers.

  And once she has released him from her hold, she hurries with him to catch up with her brothers.

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