The Earth Dwellers

“Adele, stay cool,” Tristan says, sliding his sword into his belt. Turning to our adversaries, he says, “Forgive us, we’re not used to the heat, the sun. We just came up here to have a look around. We don’t know who the Glassies ar—” He stops suddenly, like he’s been slapped. “The Glassies…” he murmurs, almost under his breath, trailing off.

“Tristan,” I say. “What is it?”

“Adele and Tristan,” Skye mutters, “what kinds of names are those?”

I ignore her, my attention fixed on Tristan, whose eyebrow is raised to the red sky. “Oh no,” he breathes.

“What?” I ask again.

“I think the Glassies are the earth dwellers,” he says.

Chapter Two

Siena

I don’t know what it is, but I like something about this girl, Adele. She doesn’t look like us, certainly doesn’t talk like us, but the way she didn’t back down from Skye, never so much as looked away, reminds me so much of my older sister I can’t help but like her. If there’s one thing I learned from all my ’xperiences, it’s that you can’t judge people until you get to know ’em. The Icers, who I thought were the baggards of the earth, turned out to be mostly okay, ’cept for mad King Goff who was leading ’em. And the Stormers, who at first I had hated hated hated, were really the ones trying to do the right thing. Even the Soakers—despite their roughness and somewhat creepy lust for war ’n blood—weren’t so bad once the devil-incarnate Admiral Jones was dead. Scorch, my sister, Jade, even has a thing for one of ’em, and she was a slave for six years, so she’d know the good from the bad.

Now Adele is staring at the guy, Tristan she called him, with such intensity I almost wa

But Tristan doesn’t seem to hear me, or if he does he ignores me, ’cause he and Adele are staring at each other. Adele says, “President Lecter is slaughtering their people?” like it’s a question, but the look on her face tells me she’s not looking for an answer. She’s gone even paler, her cheeks a white sheen even under the shadow of the ridiculous piece of stiff cloth on her head.

“Who the scorch is President Lecter?” Skye asks.

Adele and Tristan both turn sharply toward us, like they’re only just remembering we’re here. Tristan’s hands are tightened into fists, which are turning slightly pink under the hot sun, like he wants to punch someone. If he tries anything, I’ll feather him with arrows quicker’n he can say sunburn.

“He’s a person, like us,” Tristan starts, but then stops suddenly, shaking his head. “Not like us, not really. I mean…” He’s having trouble explaining, which isn’t helping the tension in the air. I see Skye pull her sword outta the ground slowly. Just in case.

“Let me,” Adele says gently, placing a hand on Tristan’s arm, which is now trembling slightly. A simple touch, but it speaks so much to me. It’s the way I would touch Circ—the way he would touch me. More’n a touch—a feeling. These two mean a great deal to each other, that much is as clear as the cloudless sky above us.

Fingers brushing Tristan’s skin, Adele says, “Do you know of the people living underground?”

Wilde looks at Skye. Skye looks at me. I shake my head, say, “All we know is that one day the Glassies popped from the ground. Only they weren’t the Glassies, not yet. They were just white-ski

The guy, Tristan, takes a step back out of the sun, removes his eye coverings. Adele mimics his movements. Her eyes are huge, as big as a full moon, but his are even bigger. “What happened next?” he asks.

I shrug. “They came back. Not the same ones, of course, they were dead, but others. More prepared. Wearing fu

“Why did they attack you?” Adele bursts out, like the question’s been pushing against her lips for a while now.

Wilde responds ’fore I can even begin to think of what to say. “They’re scared of us. Because we’re different than them.”

“They searin’ killed a bunch of us,” Skye adds, “but not all. They underestimated us. Now we’re go

I watch as Adele’s fingers tighten ’round her sword handle. Her face hardens. It’s like watching Skye look at her reflection in the watering hole.

“Skye,” Wilde says, “we should listen to what they have to say.”

Skye doesn’t look convinced, but she relaxes her body a little, as if she’s not looking for a fight. But I know better. She’s still standing on the balls of her feet, still strung as tight as a bowstring, ready to spring into action if she doesn’t like what she hears. My fingers dance along the shaft of the pointer I’m holding, too, just in case I hafta use it.

Turning back to our visitors, Wilde says, “Tell us again who you are, how you fit in with the Glassies. You said you’re sun dwellers?”

“Yes.” Tristan nods vehemently. Says “Yes,” one more time. “Well, I’m a sun dweller. We live underground. There are three layers, Sun, Moon, and Star. Adele is a moon dweller, from the middle layer. The deepest are the star dwellers. There’s been a massive rebellion; our people have been fighting, because my father was…not a good man…a tyrant.”

Don’t I know the feeling. Our father was a bad man, too, selling my younger sister, Jade, to the Soakers in exchange for what he thought was a Cure for the airborne disease killing my people. Only he didn’t want it for my people. Just for himself and a select group of leaders. Not a good man. I don’t cry when I remember his death. Killing him is ’bout the only good thing the Glassies’ve done.

“And the Glassies?” Wilde asks.

Tristan shifts from one foot to t’other. Is he nervous? “They used to be sun dwellers—at least, most of them. Some of them were moon and star dwellers too.”

“I told you!” Skye says. “They’re the same. They’re the enemy.” The tension is back in her arms. She lifts her sword.

“No!” Adele says, practically shouting, speaking quickly. “None of us knew they’d gone aboveground. None of us even knew it was possible. They—the earth dwellers, er, the Glassies—have cut themselves off from us. We had no idea what they were doing to your people. If you don’t believe us you can try to kill us, but by God you might die trying.”

Things are escalating too fast and I know that look in my sister’s eyes. And ’fore I even know what I’m doing, I throw down my bow and jump in front of her, grab her muscly arms, so much stronger’n my own, but she doesn’t fight me, doesn’t try to break through, almost like she knew I’d stop her and was only moving forward ’cause she felt like Adele’s words required an answer of force.

Behind me, Tristan says something I never coulda predicted. “We killed my father because he was evil. If President Lecter is as evil as you say he is, we’ll help you kill him too.”

Chapter Three

Dazz

I don’t mind the deepening cold as we trek up the mountain. It’s familiar, like an old friend, crisp and alive, even as it creeps through my boots to my toes and reddens my nose.