A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 101: Icelandic Reserve

"So, this is what Iceland looks like..." I ask, hypothetically. "I always thought it was, like, the opposite of its namesake: Iceland. Greenland. I didn't think Iceland had snow."

"Guess it does," Nine says, surprising me. "Unless it shouldn't," he adds, turning quickly on his heel to point a finger at hijab girl. "If this is a trick, I swear—"

"It's not," is all she says, and points outside the woodshed. I follow her gaze, and through the northeast window—which isn't really a window at all, but rather, a hole in the wall—are a dozen or so men dressed in all black and carrying army weaponry. "Blackstone mercenaries," Rabiya explains. "They're meant to patrol 24/7. There should be more inside. If there aren't, it means Einar isn't here, and neither is your friend, student, whatever."

"Hell," Nine spits. "Ok. Here's the plan: Em, stay with her. Make sure she doesn't go anywhere or try to escape. I'll deal with the mercenaries and find Taylor."

"All by yourself?"

"Duh. That kid's going to pay for messing with my students." He cracks his knuckles, yet somehow, I have the slightest inclination that Nine's only having me stay behind because he doesn't trust me; I guess he wouldn't. "Is that a problem, Emily?"

"What? Oh. No. I mean, I was just thinking, and well..." I'm interrupted by a stream of gunfire and Nine grabs me by the shoulder, throwing me to my knees.

"Down!" he shouts as we scurry to the side wall. I press my back to the surface and tuck my knees in close, keep my head down, so as not to catch any bullets sailing above us. "Ok, change of plans: I'll stay and deal with these chumps and Rabiya; Em, you go and rescue Taylor."

"How, uh, how're you going to take out all these guys on your own?" I ask, wide-eyed.

He only smirks, a smile that says, "don't worry about that either," so I nod and get ready to make a bolt for the house.

"We know you're back there!" shouts one of the mercenaries. "Come out and show yourselves!"

"Ok...!" Nine shouts, raising his hands—both the real and mechanical one. "As long as you don't shoot me. I'm deathly terrified of guns."

One of the mercenaries laughs at that. Frankly, I have the urge to laugh myself. Nine's the most unfearful person I've ever met in my life. If there's anyone unafraid of guns, it's him. "We won't shoot you, kid," he assures, as if he's talking to a five-year-old, "just step out of the shed."

"My pleasure," Nine says, tossing me a quick wink before stepping out into the cold August air. "Get ready, Em," he whispers.

"Turn around!"

Nine obliges and closes his eyes. I can hear him quietly counting under his breath: "Five... four... three... two... one..."

Every guard in the yard has their weapons pulled on the final count, and they're hoisted up fifty feet or so, maybe more. "Hey—!" I hear one of them shout; I take it that's my cue. I'm up in an instant and race past Nine to make a beeline for the house's backdoor, using my ergokinesis to amplify my stamina just a little more.

Nine laughs behind me before he calls up to them all, "As far as I see, you guys got two options! Run away or go up higher!" He's having too much fun with this.

The house is even more impressive on the inside than on the out. There's a flatscreen TV right on the living room wall with tons of video game consoles and games to play when you're bored. So, this is what a Foundation prick like Einar Magnusson does in his spare time...

But along with that, there's everything you could ever want here; all the kitchen appliances one could ask for, and plenty of space for a party of people. "Taylor?" I shout—because it seems oddly quiet for a place this big, though that might be due to its size. "Taylor...?!"

I have no idea where to even begin searching for her. If she wasn't outside in the cold, she must be in here, right? Where would they be keeping her? Is the Foundation bold enough to build a locked room—a cell—in a place like this? Or worse, some sort of underground bunker? A hidden bunker? Where the hell do I even find something like that?

There's a massively wide staircase, but even as I call her name a third time, there's still no response, and no sign of anyone. I make my way up.

There're thirty steps in total, though I only count twenty-five when I catch a girl looking down on me, dressed in a pink satin robe. I freeze. "Why are you looking for Taylor?" she asks.

"I... I've come to take her back to the HGA," I say. "I've come to get her out of here. Do you know where she is?" The timid brunette of a child shakes her head, and only then do I realize the strange collar around her neck; it must not be comfortable. "What's your name?"

"Freyja," she answers. "Are you here to take me home?" My heart sinks just hearing her. She's so small, so delicate, so confused; she can't be any older than five.

"Where is your home, Freyja?" I ask, pausing on the last step to touch her on the shoulders.

She shrugs, then looks around and points behind her at the hallway wall. "I don't know. Somewhere that way, I think."

I nod, understanding. "I'll take you home, but first we need to find Taylor. Do you know where she is or where she went?"

"He said he took her to Saudi Arabia."

"Who did? Did they say when they'd be back?"

"Soon, I think. They left in the morning."

"Ok," I murmur, taking her hand. "Freyja, stick close to me. I'm going to get you out of here, but we need to hurry." I turn to take us back down, only to find a guy in a tussled suit standing in my way, hair styled back with gel. He looks as old as me.

"That won't be necessary," he says in subtle Icelandic English. "Hi, Emily. I thought we might meet. I never expected the day would come so soon though. I'm Einar. I see you let yourself in."