War Beyond the Obelisk

Chapter 6: Smiling Gas — 03

The dripping could have stopped for any number of reasons.

Perhaps the camp’s water supply was limited and had been shut off for the night. Perhaps the bitter cold had frozen the copper pipes.

But the silence around him was too complete.

Every faint sound, both inside and outside the building, had vanished.

The barracks lay as still as a tomb.

Yu Feichen sat up against the wall and took out his lighter.

With a soft hiss, flame illuminated one corner of the cell.

He examined the others one by one.

Bai Song slept with his brow faintly furrowed. Grode, the chemistry teacher, lay flat on his back with his hands folded over his chest as though in prayer. The frog-eating monk had curled himself into a corner.

The darkness seemed almost solid. The lighter illuminated only a narrow circle, so Yu Feichen rose and crossed to the other side of the cell.

The remaining three men slept in different positions. Fortunately, each body rose and fell faintly with breath.

Asleep.

Alive.

He raised the lighter.

Nothing clung to the ceiling. Through the tiny window, he could make out the silhouettes of buildings against the night.

Then he looked across the corridor.

A black opening broke the gray-white concrete wall. It was the entrance to the washroom, and not a trace of light came from within. Beyond it, the neighboring cells had been swallowed entirely by darkness.

Yu Feichen extinguished the lighter.

Something had happened.

He was not a nervous man, nor was he prone to hallucinations.

In the deathly quiet, he called out, “Is anyone awake?”

His voice traveled into every corner of the building.

No one answered.

“Is anyone there?”

Only silence replied.

Three seconds later, Bai Song shifted as though disturbed by the noise and rolled onto his side.

Yu Feichen stared at the section of wall that had been revealed behind him.

He tapped Bai Song’s shoulder.

The young man was not sleeping deeply. He jerked awake at once.

Yu Feichen said nothing. He relit the lighter and brought the flame closer to the wall.

“I—”

Bai Song stopped himself before the curse escaped.

Three dark, elongated marks scarred the ashen concrete.

They differed in length and depth, heavy at the upper right and fading toward the lower left, like brushstrokes made after the paint had nearly run dry.

“Were those there before?” Yu Feichen asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

Bai Song stared.

“I didn’t notice them. I don’t think so.”

Yu Feichen said nothing. He had carefully inspected the cell before sleeping.

The marks had not been there.

After several uneasy breaths, Bai Song lifted his right hand and aligned his fingers with the stains. The middle finger was thickest, the little finger thinnest—the pattern matched.

“Damn.” Bai Song lay back down, putting more distance between himself and the wall. “Someone clawed those marks into it.”

He swallowed.

“Do you think they really treat prisoners mercifully?”

Movement came from elsewhere in the cell. Their conversation had awakened Grode.

“Has something happened?” the teacher asked.

“No.”

Yu Feichen reached through the iron bars and turned the old padlock hanging outside the door. He rotated it from its natural flat position until it rested sideways.

Then he said, “Go back to sleep.”

Grode murmured several prayers. He and Bai Song eventually settled down again.

Yu Feichen did not lie down. He remained seated against the wall in a position that would allow him to rise instantly, his eyes closed in feigned sleep.

The building remained silent as a graveyard.

Roughly five hours later, a thread of pale dawn entered through the tiny window.

The dripping in the washroom resumed.

Yu Feichen first looked at the wall beside Bai Song.

The three marks were gone, as though they had never existed.

Then he looked at the barred door.

The padlock he had turned sideways now hung flat once more.

It seemed to have moved on its own without making a sound.

Yu Feichen took a deep breath and ignored both anomalies.

He began preparing for the day.

There was little to do. He straightened his hair, then used the sharp folding knife to remove the faint stubble along his jaw.

He was not particularly concerned with his appearance.

But certain things had to remain orderly.

The others woke one after another.

The monk began his morning prayers. From the scattered invocations, Yu Feichen gathered that they worshiped a person or deity named Yoryarla.

Grode sat staring at the wall.

A middle-aged man with a large nose sighed repeatedly.

A broad blond man spoke quietly with a smaller prisoner.

“My mother was put on another truck,” he said. “I don’t know where she is now.”

Bai Song remained asleep.

The monk’s lengthy prayers ended.

Bai Song was still asleep.

That was understandable. Waking from shallow sleep during the first half of the night often made the second half unnaturally heavy.

Yu Feichen stared expressionlessly at him for three seconds, then decided to wake him with a kick.

Before he could, the barracks’ main door opened with a heavy creak.

Winter air poured inside, sweeping away the dampness and stale human warmth. The cold cut to the bone, but it sharpened every mind in the room.

Footsteps entered the corridor.

Several people walked along the sides, while two remained at the center. One set of steps was heavy and closely spaced. The other was light, with a longer interval between each stride.

One person was heavy and short-legged.

The other was light and tall.

“Wake up for inspection, frogs,” came the overseer’s shrill voice. “The children of the God of Truth are already working while you Koroshan bastards lie in bed. Once I open the doors, you’ll line up properly. I have a lash waiting for every one of you.”

The heavier, shorter person was clearly the overseer.

As for the other—

Yu Feichen leaned against the side wall with his arms folded. He had been looking down at Bai Song, who slept like a corpse. At the sound of the approaching voices, he raised his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a pair of black riding boots with silver buckles.

“This is the room, sir,” the overseer said, his flattery edged with something mocking. “The two coal-eating bastards vanished from here.”

The young officer bent to inspect the padlock.

His uniform included a long military cape. A silver chain with tassels ran from his shoulder to his chest, half concealed by platinum hair that fell past his shoulders. The outfit was extraordinarily crisp and formal.

It did not seem to belong to him.

Perhaps because he had just entered from outside, he carried the chill of snow with him.

“What else happened that night?” he asked.

“Nothing, sir,” the overseer replied. “The count was correct when they were locked in the evening before. At inspection the next morning, the two men were gone. The lock was still hanging exactly where it should have been.”

“And the others?”

The officer’s cold gaze passed over the cell.

“The colonel considered it an unforgivable disgrace that two slippery Koroshan snakes had escaped,” the overseer said. “He questioned the remaining prisoners. They claimed they had seen both men before going to sleep, heard nothing during the night, and found them gone in the morning.”

The overseer laughed.

“They sheltered fugitives and tried to pretend they knew nothing, so the colonel had them all executed.”

Then he added, “Still, two slippery snakes hardly justify Xiyun sending someone all this way to investigate, do they, sir?”

His superior answered with two words.

“Open it.”

The overseer reluctantly unlocked the door.

Two soldiers dressed differently from the local guards entered and began searching the cell.

“Our barracks are as secure as a fortress. No one can escape. This was merely an isolated accident—”

The overseer continued speaking until one of the soldiers lifted an unused straw mat and found a bent length of wire beneath it.

The soldier handed the wire to the captain.

The young officer closed the padlock again, inserted the wire into its keyhole, and worked it with practiced ease.

Within minutes, the mechanism clicked open.

The overseer remained outside the bars.

“Well… there’s still another locked door at the entrance. Even if someone escaped this cell, he could never get out of the building.”

Yu Feichen watched in silence.

The young officer was not merely far better than most men at maintaining a firearm.

He was also exceptionally skilled at picking locks.

With the captain’s arrival, the situation had become somewhat clearer.

Two prisoners had disappeared from Oak Valley Internment Camp. The camp’s local officers considered it insignificant, but their superiors did not. Someone had therefore been sent to investigate—the newly graduated captain from Xiyun Military Academy.

After what had happened during the night, however, the disappearance was probably not so simple.

Yu Feichen’s objective beyond the Gate of Eternal Night might also require reconsideration.

“Mercy toward prisoners is a virtue, Overseer,” the young captain said.

His voice was cool and quiet, yet every word was perfectly distinct. His accent carried the cadence of something ancient and aristocratic.

“I do not yet know what you have been doing at Oak Valley. But if you cannot restrain yourselves, you should at least learn to keep your secrets.”

The overseer wiped sweat from his forehead.

“We’ll strengthen security. A third man will not escape.”

“A man capable of picking this lock would not leave his tool beneath his bed.”

The pale green eyes suddenly fixed upon Yu Feichen.

“Did anything unusual happen last night?”

A brief silence followed.

“No,” Yu Feichen said.

They held each other’s gaze for several seconds.

Then the captain looked away.

From beginning to end, his eyes remained as clear and tranquil as a frozen lake.

“Search Oak Mountain.”

He turned. One corner of his cape lifted with the motion, trailing winter cold as he left the cell.

The footsteps receded.

Bai Song had long since awakened.

He looked after the departing officer, then at Yu Feichen, and finally toward the corner of the wall.

He clearly remembered the three dreadful, blood-dark marks that had appeared there during the night.

Now the wall was clean.

Nothing remained.

Bai Song’s pupils lost focus.

“You… he… I… that…”

The guards drove the prisoners into line and ordered them toward the washroom.

As Yu Feichen passed Bai Song, he lowered his voice.

“We’re going to the brick kilns today. Find a way to bring something back.”

He paused.

“Anything.”