BLUEMANTLE, Karen Langston [best classic romance novels TXT] 📗

him. He could sense its warmth as it coursed through his veins and embraced his heart. Looking back to the stage, he surrendered to the music.

–

“Damn it, get those kids away from here. I can’t hear a thing.” Dent Lore had raced across the city in his Ops truck, having received word from one of his units in Cinder Hill.

Allears ushered a group of daring children away, clearing an area around the whisper dish. Dent knelt down beside it, ears straining, eyes closed.

Faint. Barely a sound at all. But there, in the distance, was the trace of a note. A filigree murmur from the depths of a bottomless well. His sense locked on to the prize. Shutting everything else out, Dent honed in on the sound, amplifying it by micro degrees through the sheer force of his will. He imagined the wave form, felt the frequency.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Detection confirmed.”

–

Resurfacing from the depths of enchantment, Chase came to and found Ursel standing beside him. “Wella…?”

“She’s okay. I’ll explain after.” She smiled, then turned to look at the stage.

Watching her profile, Chase saw in her eyes the same joy that radiated from all the faces around them. Her expression was one of release, of a reprieve from all the strain and hardship that was the corroding rust on life. Beads of perspiration clung to her temples. Her cropped black hair was damp around the edges. A smile played on her lips.

The music demanded Chase’s attention, drawing it back to the stage. Its influence was undeniable now. The initial spark within him had caught, growing into a consuming fire in his chest. He found himself grinning at the players, swept up by the infectious euphoria around him.

In that moment, he felt Chief’s cobalt eyes upon him. He looked at her, could feel her electric gaze as a connection was made. The contact was mesmerising, intoxicating. Their eyes locked in a unifying exchange. He felt her touch penetrating his core, pulling at his chest. Yet the moment was all too brief. As he revelled in the instant, she blinked and looked away. Chase felt himself released.

Ursel touched his arm. “Have you seen enough to understand?”

“I don’t know that I understand…” He smiled and raised his shoulders. “You say Wella’s alright?” Ursel nodded. “Then let’s stay a while longer.”

–

Within a matter of minutes, Wulfwin and his men were on Cinder Hill. He marched up to Dent Lore. “Where’s it coming from?” he hissed.

“The Nanso Heights.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“That’s the direction.”

“But there’s nothing up there. Where would they rig up a stage? If it was outside, even I would be able to hear it from here.”

“There’s something about the timbre of the sound…” said Dent, scratching his beard, frowning.

“What? Come on, man. What is it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t work it out.”

“Not good enough, Allear.”

“It’s definitely north from here. Beyond the Nanso Trail. My men will stop and listen along the way. We will find the source.”

“Yes, you will.” He glared at Dent, then turned to bark into his radio, alerting Comms Control and Operations HQ of their imminent mobilisation. Within seconds, a dozen WatcherCams appeared, hovering high above them – surveillance drones controlled from Operations HQ.

Wulfwin turned to his men. “Okay, listen up. We’re heading into the Heights. Pair with an Allear. Stay close. Ear defenders on. Watch for my signal and keep your in-ear radios on open frequency.” He turned back to Dent. “You and your blind gimps had better hurry. Don’t fuck this up, Lore.”

Dent called his Allears to attention. He had assembled ten units; the remainder he had ordered to remain in position across the city. “The source is in the Heights,” he said to them. “Spread out; we’ve a large area to cover. Those of you who are adjusted, you’ll have a Deaf Squad trooper to be your eyes. They’ll be wearing defenders; sign to them if you need to communicate. Responsibility rests with us. We will not let the Authority down.”

The troopers dispersed, the deaf leading the blind towards the looming silhouettes of the Nanso Heights.

–

Blix paced the Comms Control Centre, her hands wringing. The room was a vast, windowless concrete box. Operators sat in rows of desks, headphones on, torsos stooped over transistor radios. They scribbled frantically on notepads, occasionally tearing off a page and waving it in the air as if in surrender, calling out, “Incoming.” Runners patrolled the aisles, collecting the paper flags and delivering them to a bank of raised desks at one end, staffed by Comms officers. Lining the walls were humming machines, lights blinking, reels of magnetic tape whirring. Among the machines was a huge switchboard, its wires looping in a tangled web of chatter.

Blix marched back and forth before the raised desks, freezing each time a message was delivered. It had been ten minutes since the last communication. As the interval yawned, Blix flipped between interpreting it as a positive sign, that the raid could be in progress, then rereading it as disaster. The Comms officers kept their eyes low, intent on avoiding her stormy glare. “Come on,” she hissed under her breath, scratching her neck. “What’s taking so long?”

“Incoming.” A hand shot up. A runner collected the piece of paper and trotted over to his superiors at the raised desks. He handed it to a woman in wire-rimmed spectacles, who scanned the note.

“Tell me what it says,” demanded Blix, immediately at the woman’s side.

“Communication from Chief of Command, Governor. He says, ‘Close to source. Preparing to move in.’”

Blix gripped the table. Her heart raced. “Right. Good,” she said, her voice trembling. She turned slowly and closed her eyes, picturing the scene. Wulfwin and his men running in formation, storming into a building, shouting orders at the startled crowd. The violence. The terror. She tried to imagine the victory, but the scene kept dissolving before the moment of capture.

–

Deep in the bowels of the mountain, Chief played on. She surveyed the crowd before her, drinking in their euphoria, feeding