She clamped her eyes shut, trying to squeeze out the image of Alastor’s face and pleading eyes. She hoped that he hadn’t read her thoughts. It was only a matter of time, she thought, before he discovered the truth. If he hadn’t already. The constant struggle to keep her thoughts free of Deacon and Letho was growing rather tiresome, and she didn’t know how long she could keep it up.

“Thresha,” Alastor said, “I am so very glad you have returned to us, and believe me, I want to trust you… but please forgive me if I am unable to receive your words with complete trust.” He was using his best fatherly voice, and part of her believed for a moment that he was genuinely concerned for her. She didn’t rule out the possibility entirely, but at the same time she reminded herself that for Alastor, Abraxas and the quest to preserve their race would forever come first.

“What do I have to do to earn your trust?” she asked. “Anything. You name it.”

“I will keep this offer in mind,” he replied, patting her hand in perfect synchronization with his last two words. Then he reclined in his chair kicked up a leg over the armrest, and watched the rest of the exchange between Abraxas and Ankor Watt with mild disinterest.

Thresha wanted to sigh, wanted to melt into sobs and tears, thankful to no longer be under Alastor’s direct scrutiny, but she could not. She knew that it was foolish to bargain with such a being as him, but what else could she do? She felt as though she was living minute to minute, as if her every move was suspicious. How much longer could she keep this up? She knew that the price Alastor extracted from her would be terrible. She only hoped it would not get any of her friends killed.

****

Letho, Deacon, Bayorn, and Saul continued to follow a massive six-lane highway littered with abandoned automobiles. Like the others, these vehicles were rusted almost beyond recognition. The asphalt under their feet had begun to break up, the process hastened by thickets of gray weeds with massive thorns.

“Careful of those,” Saul said. “Poisonous. Not enough to kill, but hurts like nobody’s business.”

“Thanks, but avoiding the plants with the giant dagger-like thorns was already on the to-do list,” Letho said.

Saul smirked, but didn’t laugh out loud like Letho hoped he might. Saul seemed a little more anxious than was typical, for he usually strutted around cloaked in arrogance and bravado. Letho wondered what had him so worked up.

He’s probably just nervous. Like me.

“So, Letho Ferron. What exactly do you hope to accomplish today?”

“Like I said before, I want to get a look at what we’re up against,” Letho said.

“Have you considered the possibility that we will be apprehended immediately upon entering the city?” Saul asked.

“Yes, of course I have considered this possibility. I can’t really explain it to you, Saul, but this just seems like the correct course of action. Besides, if we do get in a bind like that, I know you’re always up for a fight, right?”

“You bet,” Saul replied. “Well, if our pops puts his faith in you, then so do I.”

“Thanks, bruin,” Letho said, though the words rolled awkwardly off his tongue.

“I just hope that you two don’t get me killed,” Deacon interjected. “I am much too handsome to die this young.”

They continued along a forsaken highway for hours that seemed like days to Letho, Hastrom City’s horizon growing ever larger. The sun was high in the sky, pummeling them with merciless heat. They stopped under one of the still-standing overpasses and climbed up under the supports to have lunch, but the shade provided little respite from the stifling heat. The air was palpably humid, thanks to their proximity to the coastline, and the roiling sauna effect was unbearable. Letho found that Saul had been right about the cloaks, in that they did protect them from the sun’s harsh rays. But the fact that the air was so saturated with moisture meant that their sweat couldn’t evaporate, and the heat was trapped in their bodies. Letho hoped they had enough water in their canteens to make it to Hastrom City and back before they became a meal for the mutants.

The city skyline was like ragged teeth jutting from a beast’s maw, and it grew with every step. After a time Letho was able to make out individual buildings, most of which were just skeletal frames with shattered windows and decaying facades. He could see the great wall that seemed to encircle the very heart of the city; it appeared to be constructed from pieces of fallen bridges and highways. In the center of the skyline was a palace stabbing upward into the sky.

“That must be where the bad guys live,” Saul said.

“Looks like he built his temple right on top of the Ministry of Civil Services Building,” Deacon said. “Pretty impressive. It’s amazing—even with the buildings falling down I recognize the layout. It’s just like the Centennial Fulcrum’s town center, only much bigger. Look at the Ministry building. It must be five stories high!”

“Yes, and Abraxas’s temple adds another four or five,” Letho said.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Bayorn said in a low voice, “but I believe it would be wise if we assumed the identities of our costumes. We don’t know if we are being watched, even this far out from the city.”

“You’re right, Bayorn. Let’s get into character,” Saul said.

“What do you think, Letho? Do I look like a scavenger?” Deacon asked, turning his face into a scowl, squinting one eye, and opening the other wide, turning the pupil inward.

Letho wanted to laugh, but his guts felt as though they were consuming themselves. He chuckled lightly and nodded in recognition of Deacon’s attempt at humor.

“All right you two, quit screwing around and act rough,” Saul growled. “And Bayorn, act like you’re pissed to be in them cuffs.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Bayorn said in his chesty rumble.

****

They walked for another hour or so, following the road as it threaded between buildings that groaned under their own weight and wailed as the wind whipped through them. Letho couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, either by Abraxas’s men or cameras. The third possibility—a horde of mutants, lurking in the shadows of the crumbling buildings where none of them could see—chilled Letho to the bone.

But they made their way to the massive gate built into the wall without incident. Letho was surprised to see that the gate’s steel doors were open, and there were only a few sentries guarding it. There were others, Letho saw, on top of the wall, each of them holding a rather menacing-looking long-range rifle.

“Mendraga,” Bayorn hissed, sniffing the air, his massive nostrils flaring with each giant intake of air.

“Take it easy, old friend. They haven’t even noticed we’re here yet,” Letho said.

A large number of people milled about within the walls in what appeared to be an open air market. They hadn’t seen anyone on their way into the city, but now that they were closer, they saw numerous people exiting through the gate and heading off in all directions. Just as Saul said, they were all wearing very similar robes to the one that Letho was wearing.

“Scavengers,” Deacon said. “Those are the guy we’re pretending to be, right?”

“Why don’t you just go over there and tell those guards who we are,” Letho hissed under his breath.

“Sorry!” Deacon whispered out of the side of his mouth. “I’m just nervous. Cut me some slack!”

“Will you two stop arguing? We need to figure a way in!” Saul hissed.

One of the sentries patrolling the top of the wall appeared to have noticed Letho and company. They were, after all, the only ones with an eight-foot-tall Tarsi. The sentry stopped and spoke into his uCom. One of the sentries on the ground level answered him via uCom, then motioned for the four of them to come to him.