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Twitching to life, my legs spring into action. I slide them beneath me and bound to my feet. I take off, racing away from the woods and from Cassowary. I run so hard my thighs burn until I reach the juncture where the road meets the forest. There, I’m careful to cloak my moves in shadow, the only sound I hear is the swish of my footfalls over the long grass and the fitful drum of my heart. My footsteps and the drumming of my heart is only interrupted by the rumble of Urthman vehicles which arrive at intermittent intervals. Equipped with massive spotlights that produce a bright beam of light, I’m forced to dart deeper into the woods as each band of convoys arrive. Diving and rolling through hostile growth, I’m covered in burrs and scraped from head to toe. A cut on my forehead leaks a thin stream of blood into my eye, causing it to sting. But I keep my limbs close to my body, barely breathing and never releasing as much as a whimper. To do so would reveal my location. It would mean death. Even as the light skims the low-lying brush, blanching it to an anemic, ashen hue before skimming past me, I remain still, holding my breath until the truck has moved out of sight.
Breaking free from the entanglement of thorny vines and acquiring some fresh scrapes, I set off at a run once again. I need to get to the other two human cities. Kildare was destroyed many years ago. It has since been rebuilt. Galway was, too, despite my many reservations and the carnage that took place there. Though most of the inhabitants of Kildare and Galway were at Cassowary, anyone who remained behind must be warned. But the cities are too far to reach on foot. Tyr is the closest town. It is an Urthman town. While my faith in Urthmen is virtually nonexistent at the moment, I know Mim will help me. He’ll help me find a vehicle so I can warn the others. He’s a friend. The Urthmen at Cassowary were all unfamiliar to me. In fact, the more I think about it, I realize that when I looked out among the sea of faces before my short speech, I hardly recognized any of the Urthmen present. With the exception of Cadogan, they were all foreign to me.
Cadogan.
His name burns up the back of my throat, bitter like bile. The rage it evokes spurs me to run harder. Faster. Testing the limits of every muscle in my body, I run. Hour pass. I am parched and my entire body trembles from exertion and shock. Still, I do not stop until I see the lights of Tyr.
After the attack on Cassowary, I cannot trust any Urthmen I come across. Not until I reach Vox. Mim will be there. Mim can be trusted. He’s been a loyal friend for years. He knows Sully. The boys.
Thinking of Sully, John and William, the worry of their whereabouts—of whether or not they live—causes a physical ache in my chest so profound it makes my knees buckle. I want to fall to my knees. To weep for all that I’ve seen, for the death of King Garan. For my husband and children. As much as I want to collapse into a heap and cry, I know I can’t. I need to reach Vox. I need to be among friends. The thought of a hug from Mim never seemed as warm and welcome as it does right now.
Remaining concealed, I stay close to the buildings that line the main road in Tyr until I reach the entrance to Vox. I open the door and step over the threshold.
About ten Urthmen sit at the bar and at the small, round tables situated around the bar area. They all appear in varying states of inebriation. Words are slurred. Voices are loud. Gazes are hazy and unfocused. And bodies sway slightly, as if balancing in their respective seats is a challenge. Still, each of their head turns to face me.
From behind the bar, Mim’s voice says, “Avery? What happened?”
I turn toward the sound. He stares at me strangely, his eyes travelling the length of my body. Following their trajectory, I realize right away what he’s looking at. I’m covered in blood—both my own blood and the blood of the Urthmen I killed—and holding a sword.
Chest heaving and on the verge of shedding tears, my throat is painfully tight when I say, “Mim, I need help. They’re all gone.”
Mim’s features gather. His head jerks back ever so slightly. “Who, Avery? Who is gone?” he asks softly.
“Everyone,” I reply and hear my voice crack. “Everyone in Cassowary.” Hot tears burn the backs of my eyelids before filling my eyes and spilling over my lower lashes. “Cadagon led an attack against us. He and others I didn’t recognize showed up at the party and killed everyone.” Hearing myself say the words aloud has an unexpected result. Sobs rack my body. My shoulders curl forward and my body shudders. I haven’t cried like this in front of anyone in longer than I can remember.
The bar is utterly still. Every Urthman at the bar, including Mim, stares at me, silent and with mouths partially agape.
I compose myself, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands, when I hear a click behind me. I turn and seen an Urthman named Radan lock the front door with a key. He slowly moves away from the door, his eyes never leaving me.
A second or two passes as my mind struggles to comprehend what exactly is going on. But when the entire place erupts into cheers and the drunken Urthmen around the bar throw their hands in the air in celebration, the reality of the circumstances becomes startlingly clear.
Cold fear seeps deep into my body, chilling my blood but doing nothing to bank the hot current shivering down my spine, the inherent need to flee from what I now understand are enemies all around me, celebrating the death of unarmed, innocent humans. My people.
“Mim?” I turn to my friend pleadingly. “What’s happening? I thought we were friends.” The words fall from my lips like ephemeral wisps. Nearly absorbed by the cheers and clapping. “I-I need your help.”
Mim cocks his head to one side. His eyes are dark and round and filled with emotion. Behind them, I’m certain he’s just as confused as I am but that he’s configuring a plan. One that will get us both out of here alive and to the human cities to warn them. I anticipate comforting words or a solution—something—when he parts his lips to speak.
“Friend?” He hisses the word so venomously I take an instinctive step backward. He shakes his head. “Stupid human,” he spits. “You aren't my friend. Do you think any self-respecting Urthman would call a human his friend?”
My head begins to swim in dizzying laps around what Mim has said. Confusion and panic pound a dangerous rhythm in my chest. “B-but you've never been anything but nice to me. To my family...”
Bitter laughter peppers from Mim like gunfire. It is unlike any sound I’ve ever heard come from him. It is pure malice. “I never liked you or your filthy little brats. In fact, I'd rather stick a blade in their hearts than ever pretend to enjoy their company again.”
Stick a blade in the hearts of my children? Panic sends lacey webs of ice tingling across my skin, numbing the right of my face and challenging movement. I’m at a loss. Thoughts war in my brain. For the last ten years, the Urthmen have not only existed peaceably with humans, they actually befriended us. They befriended me. Sully. My children. And now to know that Mim would rather drive a blade through their hearts than continue the pretense of friendship lands like a sledgehammer to my temple. He wants my children dead.
Rage replaces panic, sending hot tendrils of fury snapping through my blood like a livewire. I will see Mim die. Whether at my hand or at Prince Garan’s hand. Either way, I will watch the portly Urthman who wished my children dead take his last breath. And I will savor it.
“Prince Garan will hear of this.” My words are not a threat but a promise. “And he, unlike you, is a friend. He will have your head on a spike if I ask him to do it.”
Mim’s smug expression hardens. The glimmer of vicious glee in his eyes deadens.
“That may be true.” He shrugs, unfazed by my words. “But the Prince and his friendship with you and with all humans is why his father’s head is no longer attached to his body. It’s why it arrived to your hands in a box.” Sadistic laughter spews from him. “I'm sure Prince Garan’s head will not be attached to his body much longer if it isn’t already gone.”
Licking my lips, the puzzle pieces of what’s transpired begin to fit into place. “You knew all about what was happening,” I say quietly.
“That didn’t take you long to figure out!” Derision drips from his lips like poison along with mirthless laughter. “We knew this was coming for years. Everyone knew but humans, the idiot who used to be our king, and his son! Your little cities are only a small part of this world and the only place where humans were free.” He laughs again. “Everywhere else, you’re still hunted. How you and all the others didn’t figure it out all these years is beyond me!” He shakes his head then levels me with a malevolent gaze. “There was never peace in the world. Prince Garan let you believe something that wasn’t true.”
Mim’s words trap the breath in my lungs where it burns there. Humans are still hunted elsewhere? King Garan’s violent overthrow had been plotted for years? Peace doesn’t exist elsewhere between Urthmen and humans? Everything was a ruse. All part of an elaborate plot to lull humanity into a state of complacency. To a point where we’d never suspect a thing. Yet all the while, Cadogan was staging an uprising against the King’s regime. I’m beyond angry. I am sickened and ashamed.
“My children and Sully were with Prince Garan. Where are they? Are they...” I can’t bring myself to say the word “alive”. Partly because I don’t want to know the answer, and mostly because I don’t think I can handle the answer I fear most.
Leveling his inky eyes at me, Mim says, “They’re gone.” His blistering, hateful gaze is a hot brand that scorches my skin. He waits for me to cry. Wants me to cry. But I will not. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Besides, I am not certain I believe him.
“How do you know they’re gone? Did you drive your sword through their hearts yourself?” I ask in a voice that sounds far calmer than I feel.
Mim’s eye widen ever so slightly. “I-I'm not telling you anything else!” He waves a hand at me dismissively. “But I am handing you over to prince Cadogan.”
“Prince Cadagon?” I repeat what he’s said, not bothering to mask my incredulity.
“Yes, you know him,” Mim replies, my tone completely lost on him. “He was sent by his father, the new King, to distract Prince Garan and keep him completely in the dark.” Mim smiles a revolting smile. “As soon as I radio over to the new prince, he’ll be over to collect you. And I’ll likely collect a fat reward for turning over the leader of the humans.” He reaches for a sheath at his waistband and draws a blade. “Now drop the sword,” he orders.
Following his lead, the other Urthmen present rise and produce blades, as well. Ragtag in every sense of the word, they are a pathetic group. Each of them totters and sways from drinking, looking as though he could topple over at any given moment. Still, they are armed. And I am outnumbered.
“Lesss kill hurr then kill hurrr kidsss,” George slurs.
Anger seizes the cells of my body like a current of electricity, spilling through my veins in crackling fury. George, though inebriated, believes my kids are here and wants to kill them. No threat against my children will go unpunished. And I will fight to the death to find them if they live.
The sword in my hand is heavy but familiar. My muscles remember how to wield a sword with anger leading. I rotate my wrist, the blade carving the air in a quick, tight figure eight. Neither speed nor agility has been lost. The Avery I was a decade ago has returned. She never left really.
A slow smile spreads across my face.
“What are you smiling at? Are you that stupid that you don’t see you are either being handed over to Prince Cadogan or you are going to die right now?”
I frown and cock my head to one side. “I see ten drunken Urthmen and a fat, lying Urthman behind the bar, all of whom are about to die.” My tone is offhand and my smile is pleasant.
Mim is taken aback by my demeanor for a brief spell. He recovers quickly, though, smugness returning to him. “Eleven on one and we are going to die?” He laughs. “You really are a fool!”
“Wow! You can count! I’m surprised,” I mock.
As soon as the last word leaves my lips, the Urthmen charge me. The clash of swords and clubs, of flesh and bone, is deafening on impact. Madness erupts on a shockwave. All around me, Urthmen swarm. To say I’m outnumbered is an understatement. But I do not care. I do not care about their numbers. All I care about is surviving. Surviving to find my children. To find Sully and June.
Whirling from side to side, I wield my sword with fury, carving the air from left to right. Weapons are raised. To my shock, a few even brandish clubs. Seeing the onyx surface of a club catch the firelight of the pub, watching the way it gleams savagely, rouses something primal within me. An instinct that has been suppressed for far too long awakens. Senses suddenly razor-sharp and muscles responding at the speed of thought, I am keenly aware of the ocean of monstrous faces advancing, macabre in their bloodlust. But I do not stop cutting.
The sharpened edge of my blade drags across the throat of the Urthman closest to me. A stunned look causes his tiny eyes to widen almost imperceptibly before he releases his weapon and clutches his gaping wound. He doubles over. And while he’s bent, I heave my sword over my head and chop at the air. My blade meets with brief resistance before the Urthman’s head is lopped cleanly from his body. As soon as he drops, another is upon me. I drive my sword through his exposed midsection as he hoists his club high, readying to skull me, and manage to remove it and swing it in a wide arc just in time to thwart the attack of another fiend. My swipe knocks his weapon from his hands. Unarmed, he still refuses to relent. He attacks clumsily. I sidestep his advance and slice the air horizontally, opening him at his waist.
I felled five when the last five freeze. George is among them. His eyes are round when he drops his blade to the floor then turns and runs. The others follow suit and bolt to the door. What they’re too drunk and dumb to realize is that one among them locked it after I arrived.
I capitalize on their oversight and descend on them, striking them down one at a time until all lie in a pool of their own blood.
Slightly winded, I catch my breath then slowly turn and walk toward Mim.
Abject fear contorts his features. “A-Avery, please stop, we are friends.”
Laughter bubbles from me. I hop over the bar, feeling as though every cell in my body is vengeance unbound. Using the butt of my sword, I knock him in the skull. He falls to the ground in a sloppy heap. I stand over him, looming and staring down at an Urthman I once called my friend. I place the tip of my blade at his throat, pushing just hard enough to draw a droplet of blood.
“Where is my family?” I ask through clenched teeth.
He is trembling uncontrollably, sweat pouring off of him and the base of his throat hammering wildly. “I-I'm sure they are with King Cadogan in Elian. T-that’s where he lives. It’s going to be named the new capital of Urth.”
“You don’t know that they’re alive?” I depress the tip of the blade a bit more.
“I-I don't know! They probably are. Until you are found or killed, he’ll probably let them live.”
I shake my head, disgust roiling in my gut.
“What about Prince Garan?” I ask.
“I-I don't know!” he replies nervously.
I sigh and tip my head to one side. I push the finely honed tip of the blade a bit. It has broken the skin but isn’t burrowed deep. “What good are you?” I ask in a dulcet voice that betrays the thinly harnessed rage I feel.
"Please Avery! We’re friends! Don't do this! Please don't kill me!” His voice is shrill and panic stricken. He has the audacity to believe he can claim to be my friend after all that he’s said. All that’s transpired.
I study his face for a long moment. I remember all the times he hugged my kids. Spoke to them. Played with them. “What did you say about sticking a blade into my children's hearts again?” I ask, my brow furrowed and my eyes narrowed.
“I-I was kidding! It was a joke! An act to throw the others off my trail! I was always on your side! I’m sorry for the joke. Please forgive me, friend.”
I stare at him long and hard. I remember meeting his wife and children. Meals shared with them. Pleasant words traded. And in the moments that I replay my interactions with him and his kin, I realize it is far too late for frail amends. It is time for vengeance. I handle him as any traitor should be handled and I stab my sword through his throat. I watch patiently as he makes wet burbling sounds and life slips from him.
“I don’t forgive you,” I whisper in his ear as he takes his final breath.
Sitting up, I scan the bar, straining to see out the filmy windows. Beyond the walls and beyond the pane of glass, the sound an engine rumbling can be heard in the distance. Lights approach. More Urthmen have arrived. I must slip out unseen and go in search of June, Prince Garan, Oliver, Lark, Riley and my friends. But first, I must find my family.