The Primogenitor

"Dragon"

Maisie wasn't in a very good mood, but her heart soared when Apollo stepped out of his helicopter carrying flasks of icy water that seared her teeth when she gulped it down. Platon was wrong. Maisie's mother was wrong. She would survive, and all their nasty words and blue darts couldn't change any of that.

Sebastian didn't smile, but his relief was palpable. Don't you worry, Shig, promised Maisie, two people you met less than a week ago now have slightly higher odds at survival. And the Snake Prince now has significantly higher odds of not surviving.

There was something profoundly unfair about Shig dying because Mandon messed up. "What exactly is our plan?" said Maisie.

Apollo checked the skies. It was getting darker. "Malina's people are going to go to the furthest checkpoint up. She says she'll tell them to leave the bottom one to us."

"Malina's people," repeated Maisie, "the ones that killed Shig, and would've killed all of us if it weren't for Mandon?"

He blushed. "They didn't know. We can't really communicate."

"And now that you're in the supreme position of vulnerability... do you still trust her?"

He hesitated. Maisie sighed. "See, that hesitation tells me everything I need to know. And I don't like any of it. We make for the furthest checkpoint."

Apollo gritted his teeth. "We may not even have time for that."

"Yeah," muttered Maisie, "gonna have to move pretty fast."

That they did. Sebastian wheezed like a torn plastic bag attached to a fan, tripping on every pebble beneath his boots, but he kept his pace, and only threatened to pass out once.

Maisie grinned. Apollo had more stamina than he let on. Either that or he was too proud to complain. She admired both.

The path steepened, until it was basically stairs. She'd climbed worse before, but Sebastian and Apollo looked woozy. "Don't look down," she warned. Apollo looked down anyway and went green.

There was a flatter spot, some sort of ridge. It looked like the top, but Maisie saw no black flag. It's a false summit. Don't get your hopes up. If she couldn't shake the feeling that it was colder, she might be more careful about what could be on top of this ridge.

"Bodies." said Apollo grimly.

"Aye," said Maisie. She vowed not to look at them for more than thirty seconds. "What does this tell us?"

"Another fight. Most likely Malina's."

Maisie nodded. She recognized one of the men who had been with them, his shoulder a bloody mess. Another corpse held a dagger embedded into it. It's just the shooter and the Yukoner, now. "This group was totally defenseless, but it looks like that didn't stop them from putting up a fight."

"Yeah. Gargan's." Maisie counted five bodies, in total. "They're all dead. Same trick, most like: massacre, followed by trial by combat, followed by massacre. A real fun game." Just two left. "Furthermore, it really looks like your wife isn't reining them in. Either because she can't, or..."

"You've made your point," said Apollo acidly. So he isn't completely neutered. "Don't take her advice. Now either we move, or your feet will be cold tonight."

Maisie laughed. "No kidding. You gonna make it, Baz?"

He nodded, or convulsed, one or the other, but followed them anyway.

When they reached the first bunker, Maisie's teeth were chattering, and every bone in her body wanted to risk the bunker's doors, flag or no. "We can't," said Apollo grudgingly. "You were right."