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Muscles bunching and gathering as my feet take turns pounding the earth, I race back toward the partially clear area where we were ambushed. Swerving around giant weeping willows whose branches soar to the heavens, pounding adrenaline rolls through me. June is beside me. I’m aware of her pants as she, too, urges her body faster, but my vision has narrowed to a pinprick of dim light. All I see is one foot landing in front of the other. One tree flashing by to the left and then on the right. Not far ahead, moonlight spills from overhead, bathing the perfect planes of a face I’m familiar with in incandescent light. I slow and spot Sully. Eyes a deep, russet brown turn toward me. He blinks and only sees me, his lips turned down, then as soon as June comes into view, a wide smile dominates his features.
“Avery! You found her!” The excitement and relief in his tone reminds me of just how much he loves my sister, and me.
“Yes, with Brom.” My tone is laced with frost as my upper lip snarls at mention of his name.
Curling his nose with disdain, Sully glances between June and I. “Are you okay?” His gaze settles on June and a quiver of fury tightens his voice. I know what he means to ask but can’t bring himself to pose the question.
“I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.” June looks at Sully through her lashes then lifts her chin. “Avery got there just in time.”
Features relaxing a bit, Sully breathes a sigh. “Good. What happened? Did he get away?” he asks me.
“No,” I answer and my lips clench around the word. “He’s dead.”
Eyes widening, Sully’s head jerks back. “How? What happened?”
My gaze shifts from June to him then to the surrounding woods where Oliver and Lark make their way through the brush followed by Peter and Arnost. “As much as I’d love to tell you the story, we don’t have time. We have to get moving and fast.”
“The story of what?” Oliver squares his shoulders, searching both my face and June’s.
“Brom is dead. Avery killed him.” June’s voice echoes with a note of pride.
Lark’s jaw unhinges, her eyes growing round. “You killed him?” Incredulity touches her tone.
“Yes, she did,” June answers before I can respond. “He had me pinned against a tree, planned to do things to me.” Her voice trembles and softens, the memory of Brom’s threats achingly fresh in her mind. A part of me wishes I could kill him all over again.
“Hmm,” Peter’s arms are folded across his chest, a knowing expression marking his features.
“What?” I tip my chin defiantly and huff.
Lifting his hands to chest height with his palms facing me, he says, “Nothing, nothing.”
“No, don’t give me the old nothing routine. Go ahead, tell me.” I roll my hand forward with the same impatience I would to someone blathering on.
“Tell you what?” He shrugs, an enigmatic smile the only part of his smooth face that moves.
Is he really being coy now, I think. “I told you so. Go ahead and tell me I told you so. I know it’s coming.”
Peter chuckles. “I’ll spare you that kind of smug comment. It’s not something I’d say anyway.”
June shakes her head and a smile grows slowly, the expression similar to the gentle unfurling of a flower to the sun’s rays. She seems to enjoy the banter between Peter and me.
“Well isn’t that big of you,” I hiss sarcastically and notch my chin high.
Sully claps his hands together, the sound loud and startling as it echoes through the darkened forest. It reminds me that thanks to Brom, our attention has been diverted for far too long. Time is ticking and with each second that passes, the residents of Cassowary could be that much closer to total annihilation. “We need to get out of here. We don’t have time for bickering,” I say brusquely and level a gaze Peter’s way. I don’t hate him. In fact, I don’t even dislike him. He lacks the predatory gleam in his eyes that I’ve consistently seen in the eyes of every other Urthman I’ve ever encountered.
“Yes, you’re right,” Peter agrees. “The scout team that found us before is likely not the only one that’s been dispatched. More aren’t far behind, count on that.” Obsidian eyes glimmer with warning.
Worry forms a greasy ball in my stomach, rolling and churning nauseatingly at the thought of encountering more Uganna. “Let’s go now then.”
Words of approval ripple through our group before we set off at a pace that is nearly a jog through the forest once more. Countless trees line a labyrinth of paths. Overhead, the infinite navy expanse twinkles with the light of innumerable stars. Opaque clouds pass before the moon causing its silvery sheen to undulate, blinking like a watchful eye in the sky as it makes its journey through the heavens. Our brisk pace eventually transforms to a run as the moon dips lower and lower, the night stretching long, sooty fingers over the world around us. Time is slipping fast. Cassowary, if it hasn’t been stormed yet, is in a position that grows riskier and riskier with every second that passes. Testing the muscles in my legs and pushing myself until my lungs burn, I do not slow until the others in my group need rest. Twice June’s pace slackens until finally she stops. She rests her hands on her knees and gulps the cool night air. Lark grips what’s undoubtedly a painful stitch in her side and Arnost, Oliver and Sully pace frantically as they take small sips from their canteens. A buzz, similar to the charge in the air before a storm, slides with frictionless force all around us. Even Peter, calm and taciturn for the most part, seems frazzled. We are deep in the forest and deep into the night. “C’mon. We need to go.” Peter rolls his hand forward, urging us on.
No one utters a word. All is silent save for the ragged breaths we take. Even the insects and animals of the woods seem unusually quiet, a fact that sets my nerves on edge.
We run for what seems like an unending duration, all the while, greens of every shade, darkened and deepened by shadow, rush past. Thin branches whip at my arms and legs, and leaves slap against my cheeks. But I’m unbothered by them. I care only for the safety and well-being of my loved ones. We need to survive to reach the city I hold dear. The first city in our small section of land.
“Quick! This way!” Peter urges, his voice little more than a series of gasps. He gestures to the left, to a path overrun by low branches and thick, intersecting vines that rise and fall like serpents. Arnost furrows his brow but says nothing and Sully slides a glance Oliver’s way. The three of them seem confused by Peter’s sudden course shift yet no one’s willing to say as much.
My sense of direction has been greatly compromised. But still, veering so dramatically off the course we’ve been on for hours now feels all wrong. “That doesn’t seem right.” The words come out with strength that surprises even me. Lark’s head whips around, her dark hair catching the breeze like a banner, and June’s eyes are round, their color matching the silver-blue of the moon’s glow.
“It’s the quickest way out of the forest,” Peter barely manages through wheezing breaths.
I turn my head left then right, my eyes scouring the surrounding landscape. All I see is a dizzying array of growth. To dispute Peter at this point would be based solely on a gut feeling, one I can’t substantiate with any real input. I’m so turned around I doubt I’d be able to find my way back to the river on my own. So I follow Peter blindly. We all do. And hope that he’s leading us to Cassowary.
With a steady stream of wind rushing in my face, I race over uncharted terrain. Adrenaline courses through my veins, pumping in time with my heart as blood pounds against my skin with such force it threatens to break free of my skin. When we arrive at a stone wall after at least an hour of running, the hope I harbored of arriving at Cassowary flags. Tall and composed of smooth, carefully placed rocks, it doesn’t rise as high as our city walls do, yet it manages to be an imposing structure nonetheless. It threatens more, in fact.
Unease creeps up the length of my spine, a sense of impending doom crowding me. I slip my sword from the scabbard at my back, gripping it in front of me, heeding the instinctive danger I perceive. The rumble of Sully’s voice sends a wash of goose bumps shivering over my flesh, reaffirming my uneasiness. “What is this place?” he demands. He pulls his blades from the sheath at his hip. Arnost’s daggers make an appearance as well, and June loads her bow with an arrow from her quiver.
“This isn’t right. Something about this doesn’t feel right,” Oliver echoes the exact sensation screaming through my brain as he draws his weapon. Lark positions herself close to him so that not even a sliver of moonlight passes between his arm and hers. My eyes leave them, however, when the shuffle of booted feet over gravel at the top of the roughly ten-foot high wall demands my attention. My gaze races upward. My muscles quiver and the adrenaline that saturated every cell in my body slowly turns to shock. Urthmen glare at us from overhead, eyes as hard and cold as steel. More than a dozen of them, bows pulled taut and loaded with arrows aimed directly at us. The hope I had earlier bleeds from my chest until it pools at my feet.
“Drop you weapons, humans!” an Urthman shouts. At the sound of his voice, nearly eight more Urthmen appear from the surrounding forest—the wooded path upon which we just traveled.
With bows and arrows trained on us, my mouth goes dry and a feeling of lightheadedness overwhelms me. Peter led us here. He deceived us. His betrayal is as obvious as the arrows aimed at my heart. Hot tears of shame and anger burn behind my eyelids. My throat constricts so tightly I feel strangled.
“Please, Luc, don’t kill them,” Peter tips his chin and pleads with the Urthman on the wall who ordered us to relinquish our only chances at survival: our weapons.
Ignoring Luc, and all the other Urthmen with fingers itching to release their grip on their bowstrings, I whirl on Peter, my voice raging against the chokehold of emotion squeezing my throat. “This was a setup! You brought us here to die!” My words fire like bullets, peppering him so that he jerks back, his features contorted in horror.
“No, no,” he tries, his tone so sincere I’m almost taken by it, almost duped a second time. “Do you hear me, don’t kill them!” His voice is strident and panicked as he calls out to Luc again. Were I not standing on the doorstep, at the very threshold of the enemy’s lair, I might believe Peter, but standing as we are, outnumbered and with Urthmen poised to off us with the flick of a fingertip, it’s impossible to do.
“Drop your weapons or we’ll fire!” Luc ignores Peter’s pleas. His brow furrows so intensely the creases form a deep V between his eyes. The corners of his mouth tug downward into a horrified frown.
I glare at him, wondering why he’s maintaining the ridiculous charade. We’re here, personally delivered by him, to an Urthmna stronghold. He knows as well as we do how this will end. He knew we’d meet our demise by bringing us here, which is precisely why he led us to this exact spot. He knew all along. And now his ruse has been exposed. “I must’ve been out of my mind to trust an Urthman, to risk my life to save you!” I spit with such vehemence the words almost hurt to say. “I should’ve let Brom kill you.” Those six words slide from my mouth, cruel and unforgiving as the stab of a finely honed blade as all of us drop our weapons. Peter looks stricken. Inexplicable guilt strikes me just as I am shoved forward by an Urthman. “Now move,” he growls. We are led to a section of the wall where an arch is carved out of the stone, replaced with a massive wooden door that lowers at Luc’s command. Metal hinges creak and wood moans as the solid slab drops. If I hadn’t been forced to surrender my sword, now would be the perfect time to strike. But I am unarmed, all of us are, like boarts awaiting slaughter. In my periphery I see that a hand, filthy and with dirt caked beneath the nails of stubby fingers, grips the hilt of my blade. I will sever that hand at the wrist to retrieve my weapon if I must. One way or another, my sword will be returned to me.
The gate lands against the earth with a thud. We are ushered over the door and inside to what I thought would be a city but turns out to be little more than a base camp. Stout buildings, three in all, form a crude triangle on grass awash in ashen moonlight. At the center of the three buildings, stones are stacked in a circle, roughly three deep. Inside the circle, branches, crisscrossed and awaiting a spark to ignite a bonfire, are positioned. Every niche of the interior portion of the wall is orderly, a vast contrast to the wildness of the woods.
Though the space is neat and free of clutter or debris, it feels hollow, and dangerous. A shiver slinks the length of my spine. I do not want to die here. I don’t want to die at all, but certainly not here.
We are marched straight ahead to a building with bars spaced in the windows at regular intervals. I steal a sidelong glance at June. Her expression is stoic, her eyes locked and staring straight ahead at the building we’re headed to. Her jaw is set and her brow is dipped. Fierce determination radiates from her. She refuses to give the Urthmen the satisfaction of seeing she’s scared. She knows all too well that Urthmen couldn’t care less about human suffering. Pride at her composure fills me.
Her composure fractures slightly, however, when the door of a structure opens wide. The stench of blood and urine hangs heavy in the air. June’s hairline retreats and her eyes widen. Untold stories are told by the odor coloring the air, the cries, the pain. I can almost hear them. Feel them. I inhale a trembling breath and watch as my sister does the same just we are shoved inside a chamber within, a door slamming closed behind us immediately. The clink of metal fastening echoes with finality. And still Peter protests.
“No! This is a mistake! They’re not my prisoners! Don’t you get it?” he argues.
“They still need to be placed inside the cell until we can figure things out.” Luc rubs his temples with the tips of his fingers, his demeanor one of frustration.
“Enough with the act already!” Sully roars, rushing the door we are now locked behind and slamming his fist against it. He is at a loss, as I am, as to why Peter persists with the sham. I wonder, what’s the point? The end result has already occurred. We’ve been captured, caged and await a fate that promises to be nothing short of barbarous.
“I can’t believe I trusted an Urthman.” I scrub my face with both hands, the gravity of our situation blasting into my chest like bullets from a shotgun. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” I turn to face my friends, my family.
“We all followed him, not just you.” The bass rumble of Arnost’s voice attempts to soothe, but the guilt I feel will never be eased, not in this life or the next should one exist.
“Yeah, we all followed him to our deaths,” Oliver adds. Bitterness spikes his words.
His words are weapons, his bitterness balled fists that pummel me. I retreat until my back touches the far wall. No longer able to stand, I sink, sliding down the wall to a squatting position. Tipping my chin, my head hits the cavernous wall of the cell and a tear slips down my cheek. “I’m such a fool,” I mutter. But voices rise in anger, a heated discussion under way. All attention is focused on an interaction that seems to be elevating into an argument. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” I whisper.
Sully holds up his index finger, his head tilted as he listens intently. After several seconds, he says in a low voice, “The Uganna, they’re arguing about the Uganna, about whether or not they’re safe here.”
“They aren’t just arguing about that. They’re also arguing about us, about what to do with us. The Uganna are coming and they aren’t safe. We aren’t safe! No one’s safe from those monsters!” Lark’s voice quivers, pitching up an octave.
“The Uganna will kill us all, will kill them too.” June’s soft tone is a haunting, melodious sound, her words more chilling than the cold, damp stone my back is pressed against. But they strike a chord within me, one that resonates through the hollows of my being.
Rising to my feet and rolling back my shoulders, I say, “That’s right, June.”
Five sets of eyes search my face before shouting tears their attention from me, returning it to the door. Words, though loud and angry, are indecipherable, but with each seconds that ticks by, they grow clearer, closer.
Booted feet shuffle, striking the hard floor as they clamber near. Suddenly, keys jingle. With every clink and rattle, my pulse stutters until the sound of it entering the lock with a click halts it altogether. The door is being opened, and the distinct possibility that we’re all about to die becomes a near certainty.