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The sun is high in the sky. Directly overhead and warm, the forest canopy has all but vanished. Short saplings and plump shrubs have replaced towering trees and hostile, thorny foliage. The nearly half-day walk has been far easier than it has been since entering the Great Forest. Pleasant almost.
But all semblance of the word “pleasant” vanishes when the whoosh of a car passing can be heard. It is an ominous reminder that we are at the edge of the woods. Close to the world beyond the forest, which has reverted to a violent Urthmen stronghold.
Hearing the sound, Lucas stops in his tracks. “What was that?” he asks. “What was that sound?” Knees and elbows slightly bent and with his arms at his side to halt us, he looks poised to fight or flee depending on the potential adversary.
“That was a vehicle,” I answer.
Lucas regards me curiously, his expression shouting “No way!”
I nod and wave him in the direction from which the sound came. We creep toward a cluster of bushes. Parting them, we peek out into the brilliant daylight and see a roadway. Pavement, blanched and roughened by time and wear, stretches out on either side of us. We’ve reached the end of the Great Forest.
“I can't believe what I'm seeing,” Lucas marvels. “It’s...unbelievable.”
Straining and staring to my left, I see another vehicle making its way down the road. Small and compact, it resembles a car, but the engine is loud like that of a truck. The color is a drab olive with swatches of brown and dark green. It would be easy to conceal if it were to venture into a wooded area. The sight of it makes me fear for Lucas, his family, and the entire village. We crouch back into the bushes and watch as it passes.
Lucas’s mouth is ajar and his eyes are round as his gaze follows the passing vehicle. “I-I can't believe what I just saw! How does it move on its own?”
“When you step down on the gas pedal inside the vehicle and shift gears from park, the engine turns the wheels and the tires grip the road. The road and the tires form friction. The friction is what pushes the car forward, backward or whatever direction the steering wheel is turned,” I say. Sully explained it to me. Sully explained how vehicles work many years ago. Too proud to ask in front of anyone else—because after all, I’d driven one!—I asked him when we first met. He’d taken his time and explained the process involved in a motorized vehicle’s movement to me in great detail, taking care to do so without the slightest trace of condescension. Rather, he seemed to enjoy teaching, explaining and sharing what he knew with me. That’s how he is. That’s his way. It’s one of the many characteristics that make him a great father.
Thoughts of Sully and the boys twist in my chest. They could be somewhere beyond the narrow tree line behind which we sit.
“Amazing,” Lucas says still gazing at the now-empty roadway. He turns to me slowly. “I want to come with you. I can help.”
I look into his eyes. They are wide, kind eyes. Pellucid, pleading, and filled with a calling to help. I find myself not wanting to turn him away and disappoint him. Not wanting to hurt him. For a moment, I consider his request. I actually start to weigh the possibility of taking him with us. He’d undoubtedly be an asset.
But then I catch sight of something else: my reflection.
I see myself reflected in his eyes.
A mother.
Lucas is Cassidy and Colin’s son.
He is Ara, Pike, and Kohl’s brother.
He is also a future leader. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.
I cannot risk his life. I cannot cause his family any more worry than they’ve already endured in his absence. I won’t.
Steeling myself, I say, “Lucas, you can’t come with us. You need to head back. You need to go back to your village.”
There is a moment—a fraction of a second sometimes—when you hurt the feelings of another person, and a fleeting look flickers through their features. A tick of the brow. The quick downturn of the mouth. A flash of hurt in their eyes that lets you know immediately that you’ve done damage. I see that look now in Lucas’s eyes. The amount of damage I fear I’ve caused is the worry. It’s what sends a sense of dread striking through me like quicksilver.
“B-but I can help you,” he says. His tone is beseeching. “I helped you this far. Surely, I can help you out there.” His gaze searches mine.
“Lucas, you promised.” Now I sound like I’m begging him. “You gave us your word that once you get us here you’d go back. Your family needs you. They’re probably worried sick about you.” I take a cursory look at the roadway. Somewhere beyond it, my family waits. Alive. I hope. And if they are, they need me. I return my attention to him. “Your village needs you. Please.”
All that’s taken place since what was supposed to be the ten-year celebration of peace has risen to the surface. Brimming with more emotions than I can contain within my skin, I’m barely able to keep from crying.
As if sensing the severity of my inner turmoil, Lucas nods. He casts his eyes downward, staring at an unspecific point on the ground, before he lifts his chin and his gaze meets mine. “I understand,” he says. His tone is dejected. He clears his throat and then in a stronger voice says, “A promise is a promise.”
I smile a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Admittedly, I’m going to miss Lucas. I’m sad to see him go despite being the one to send him away. Though the reasons behind me doing so are sound and my mind agrees, it’s my heart that’s having trouble with it all. And more often than not the heart has its own set of reasoning independent of the mind. I’ll miss him. Plain and simple. Lucas has grown on me since meeting him. I care about him as I would a brother if I had one. I’ll worry about his safe return to his village, too.
“Will you be okay getting back?” my voice catches unexpectedly. I envision him alone in the forest in the densest parts of it. Dank and dim and stifling like a tomb of foliage teeming with wildlife. I envision him alone in the forest at night, with no one to distract his thoughts from the bloodthirsty baying of the Night Lurkers.
“I’ll follow the same path back and sleep in the same places,” he says.
“Even that island in the lake?” The worry I’m feeling springs forth. It drips from every word in my question.
“I’ll try and hide myself better,” he says with a wink and a smile.
I shake my head. He’s consoling me. I’m the adult and a parent and he’s consoling me. I silently beg the universe for his safe return to his village. For his continued safety. “Lucas, I can’t thank you enough. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it,” I say.
“It’s true,” June says. “We’d never have survived the boarts, and if by some slim chance we did, we never would’ve thought to swim to the island.” She pauses, her expression earnest. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Lucas stares at his feet. Though I can’t see his face straightaway, I can tell by the gathering of his brows that he’s deep in thought. “I was honored to help you both,” he says, his voice tight and fraught with emotion.
“We were honored, too,” I reply as a single tear slips from the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek.
“I wish I could stay.” He looks up. His eyes shine with unshed tears. “But I get it. I’m not trying to convince you and I won’t follow. I promise,” he says as if he’s reading my thoughts.
“I wish you could, too,” I take a chance and admit. “But you need to go. We both know that. Your family needs you. And remember what I said about preparing them. Preparing the village.” I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. “Promise me.”
“I will.” He nods. His eyes shimmer with tears, overflowing and spilling over his lower lashes. He swipes them away quickly, as if embarrassed of the display. He shouldn’t be. My cheeks are now wet with tears. They trickle down my face. He opens his arms to me and I step forward.
I hug him tightly and place a kiss on his cheek. “Please be safe, Lucas,” I whisper in his ear.
“I promise I’ll be safe,” he whispers back to me.
When I step away from him, June hugs and kisses him goodbye. As they part, he takes a final look at each of us. “If anything changes beyond this forest, I’ll come back for you and your people. You have my word,” I promise him. And I will. If there is any way I can better their chances of survival or protect them, I will. I owe them a debt equal to and in the amount of both my life and my sister’s life. And if I manage to find and save my family, they will be tied into that debt of gratitude owed to Lucas and his people.
“I hope I see you again,” he says in a voice that breaks. He nods then turns. He dashes off, disappearing into the forest on the path we just left and taking a small piece of me with him in the process.
I meant every word I said to him. He’s a remarkable person. I saw true leadership in him and am confident he has the skill to not only survive in this world, but to also help others survive along with him. June and I are living proof of that. I do hope to see him again. I’m not sure how or why, but I sense I will. In the time between now and then, he’ll be thought of fondly. And he will be missed.
“He’s special, isn’t he?” June says.
I nod, too choked up to speak as we begin following the roadway. Intermittently, a car passes, letting us know we’re heading in the right direction. We’re heading toward Elian.
“I could tell by the way you said goodbye to him. Almost like you knew him your whole life. Like he was family or something.”
“He is special, June. I see a leader when I look at him.” My voice cracks. I have no reason to be embarrassed. My feelings are my feelings. I can’t will them away any more than I can will the rise and set of the sun. “As for being like family...I guess he did feel like that. Like a son or a much younger brother. I felt protective of him even though he saved us.”
“He sure did save us,” June says.
The swish of dried leaves at our feet and the buzz of insects all around us makes it harder to hear approaching Urthmen. As a result, I ceaselessly scan the forest, my head oscillating from left to right as my eyes study the area. It’s imperative that I remain vigilant. Especially since June and I have lost our third set of eyes. Keen eyes that didn’t miss anything.
We continue, traveling parallel to the roadway and concealed by the trees lining it until the sun sets. Lurkers aren’t a worry as far out as we are. They burrow deep in the dark heart of forests. Food along the forest perimeter is scarce, and the intense light from vehicle headlights is more than their eyes can endure as extreme photosensitivity makes both sunlight and artificial light unbearable.
I’m exhausted and about to suggest we nap in shifts, even if only for a short while, when a pickup truck rumbles past us. It stops not far from us a bit further down the road.
“Think we have an opportunity there?” June clips her chin toward the truck and asks.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I reply.
June nods in agreement, and we dart towards it. Stealing through the brush and careful to remain silent and unseen, we stop close to the truck but still hidden. June and I watch as two Urthmen stand outside of their vehicle and pass a map back and forth in front of the headlights.
“I can’t make any sense of this!” the taller of the two says and throws one hand in the air.
The other snatches it from his hands. “According to this map, we’re going in the wrong direction. We should turn around and head back that way. That’s where the city is.” He tosses his thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which they just came.
“You’re wrong!” the tall Urthman huffs. “I’ve been this way and I remember stuff.” He looks around and scratches his hairless head.
“You don’t remember anything!” the shorter Urthman accuses. “You probably don’t even remember what you ate for breakfast.”
The tall one shakes his head. “Maybe I don’t know what I ate for breakfast, but I do know I don’t want to miss the execution because you can’t read a map!”
“Oh don’t get all worked up, Tomas! We aren't going to miss it!”
“If we miss it, DT, you’ll be the next one executed. By me!” Tomas laughs.
“Stop with your threats. We’ll get there. Wouldn’t miss watching this execution for the world.”
The word “execution” is mentioned a second time and my heart stops mid-beat. I move out of the darkness, descending on them.
Sneaking up unseen, I’m as silent as a wraith when I appear behind Tomas, the tall Urthman. His back is to me and DT has come round with the map, standing beside him and pointing to a location upon it. Acting fast, I slam Tomas in the back of the skull with the butt of my sword. The collision makes a loud knocking sound as metal strikes bone. I hit him so hard that he falls to the ground, smacking his head a second time against the paved ground. His eyes roll back in his head and he’s knocked unconscious. I whirl on DT, a feral expression undoubtedly carving my features as I hold my blade out in front of me, daring him to move.
He’s frozen in place, still holding the map.
“It's upside down, you idiot!” I say as I look at the upside down map.
“Huh?” DT screws up his hideous features.
“The map! The map is upside down!” I hiss.
He stares at me, wordless.
“Never mind.” The map is not what I confronted them about. The map is the least of my concerns. “What execution?” I demand.
DT remains silent.
Fury bubbles within me, blistering to the surface of my skin like molten lava on the verge of venting. “I said what execution!” I grind out the words through my teeth, my grip so hard on the hilt of my sword my nails bite into the skin on my palms.
Smirking and revealing tiny pointed teeth that are brown and uneven, the Urthman says, “I'm not telling you a thing, human.” He spits the word human. It’s a sound I never thought I’d hear again, the utterance of my species’ name as though it’s the ultimate insult.
With my eyes never leaving DT, I turn my blade and plunge it into the heart of Tomas, the Urthman lying on the ground unconscious. Blood pools around his inert body, seeping from him along with his life force.
Mouth falling open, the map slips from DT’s hands. He trembles visibly and looks aghast.
“I asked you a question,” I turn the blade on him.
“T-the e-execution of the family,” he blurts the words.
“The family?” I demand, the deadly tip of my blade hovering over the left side of his chest.
“The family of the fallen human leader!” he cries. Terror lurks in the depths of his murky gaze.
But I care little about the sound of his voice or his fear. All I can hear is a distinct ringing in my ears. Piercing. Deafening. It drowns out all other sounds. My children and husband are set to be executed. My babies...
“A public execution?” I can barely choke the words out. Still I glower at him unflinchingly.
“Yes,” DT replies.
“Why?” I demand.
“T-to celebrate the beginning of a new era,” DT replies. “Please don’t kill me!”
“Where?” My eyes bore a hole straight through his skull. Concentrated and hate-filled.
“T-Town center in Elian,” he says. His voice quivers and he’s lost control of his bladder. “P-please don’t kill me!” he starts to cry. “I told you all I know.”
“One more question and I promise I won't kill you,” I say. “Where is the former prince? Prince Garan?”
Sobs rack his body. He blubbers and splutters. A blob of snot burbles from the holes in his face where a nose should be and mixes with the tears. The result is a nasty, wet slop that coats his mouth and chin and bubbles when he says, “No one knows.” He carries on for several minutes before he says, “You-you said you wouldn’t kill me.” He looks at me, pleading. Begging for sympathy.
Too bad I don’t have any for him.
“I won't,” I say. I turn and nod toward the darkened tree line to our side.
In the space of a breath, an arrow flies from the shadows and sticks in his neck. A second follows it and lodges in the left side of his chest, piercing his heart.
June steps out from the darkness. Without a word, she grabs Tomas’s feet. I grab his arms. Together, we drag him into the woods and hide his body. We do the same with DT.
When both Urthmen corpses have been sufficiently hidden, I stand for a moment. Limbs trembling from exertion, exhaustion and more than anything else, the horrific knowledge that at the Town Center in Elian, my beautiful baby boys and my husband are slated to be killed before an audience of Urthmen.
Turning, my body seeks to expel the contents of my stomach. Heaving several times, I feel as though my eyeballs bulge and that every muscle around my tongue has been pulled.
June rubs my back. “Are you okay?”
“I-I’m sorry,” I say. “I'm sorry I asked you to do that.”
June grips my shoulders and turns me to face her. “Avery, those two were excited to go and watch the execution of your children and your husband. Do you think I felt one bit bad? They’re my family, too.”
I nod. I pull my canteen out and sip my water. “We need to get to Elian.”
June leads the way back to the road. She stoops and retrieves the map from the ground then slips behind the steering wheel of the truck. Following the map, we drive for a few hours. All the while, my focus is singular. My children. Sully. All I can see is their faces until the lights of Elian become apparent and glare at me through the windshield. Peering through the glass, I’m met with an eerie feeling of having already experienced my current situation. The area looks so familiar. It takes me a moment to realize why. Then it dawns on me. The city of Elian has elements of both Washington Central and Agroth. Leading here, we followed a long gravel path with little more than communication posts interspersed among sheds on either side it. I wondered whether I’d made a mistake, whether I’d missed a landmark on the map and guided June to the wrong place. But after a short time, the gravel gave way to a paved trail. Tiled with smooth stones of pastel colors, they look as if they’ve been polished to a high shine. Lamplight glows softly from posts positioned at even intervals and highlights the lovely palette of colors. Stout buildings of pale gray stone line the road. They do not grow taller, however. They remain consistent, and are overshadowed by a structure in the distance at the end of the pathway. A structure that could very well eclipse the sun.
Far larger than the castle in Washington Central or the residence from which Dhaval reigned and composed entirely of stone as dark and glossy as obsidian, this one sits at the summit of a steep road, I can barely make out the peaks of the massive black castle. Soaring spires disappear into the night sky, puncturing it as it looms, foreboding, intimidating in its sprawling height and width. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that’s where my family is. Inside the castle that is a nightmare personified.
Pulling off the path, we hide the truck inasmuch as we can among several others in a dark alleyway. We slip out, pulling the hoods of our shirts over our heads, and continue on foot, hidden in the shadows. Though Elian isn’t teeming with people as Agroth did and isn’t nearly as populated, a buzz hums in the air. A frenetic energy that’s palpable.
Many vehicles move about, passing us frequently and making the need to stay hidden our main priority.
“This place has a feel to it,” June whispers to me.
“I know,” I whisper back. “Like we’re tiptoeing through a pack of sleeping Night Lurkers and the sun is about to be swallowed by the horizon.”
She turns and looks at me, holding my gaze. “Yes,” she agrees soberly. “That castle.” She shivers. Already the shadows of it are being cast over us. This close, I can see that a gate encircles it and guards walk its perimeter. “It feels like it’s watching us.”
Instinctively, I move closer to the area to June’s left that has a narrow strip of shrubbery. Decorative and not remotely as concealing as the forest border by the road, it will have to do.
“Keep your head down,” I remind her. “And keep your hood low.”
She nods in agreement and pulls her hood lower on her forehead so that it veils her eyes.
We remain as we are, cloaked in shadows and concealed inasmuch as we can be by the meager bushes. We make our way up the steep hill, at the top of which the castle sits. Though the interior glows with pale light, causing the windows to glow like eerie sightless eyes, the perimeter of the castle is not well-lit at all. All that can be seen are guards carrying torches and casually surveilling the space. They laugh and shout to one another, moving at an unhurried pace. But the presence of the Urthmen guards walking the property as if taking a languid, leisurely walk is not what surprises me. And it isn’t the fact that we’ve made it this far without being killed or accosted. After all, they slaughtered their opponents. Humans, unsuspecting and believing the Peace Treaty was in effect and being celebrated, were unarmed and unprepared. Killing them was as easy as killing fish in a barrel. They have no reason to rush or search intensely.
Or so they think.
What shocks me is that as we continue toward the rear of the castle, we discover that a second building exists on the property. Far brighter than the castle and the surrounding area, the property here is not only abounding with light, it’s also abounding with men and women. Human men and women. They move about freely, without shackles or Urthmen supervision.
Gasping, June turns to look at me. The expression she wears is shocked and confused. “I can’t believe it,” she whispers.
I can’t either. The men and women are all clad in long white robes. They each have their head shaved. And they all bear a symbol upon their forehead. It’s hard to decipher what the marking is, but it’s there, as if it’s been carved into their skin.
“What is going on here,” I whisper more to myself than June.
“I don’t understand what I’m seeing,” June whispers back to me.
“Me, neither. It doesn’t make sense,” I reply. I study the movement of the humans. They’re unfettered and unsupervised, but there’s an orderliness to their behavior. A wooden way in which they move. “The Urthmen killed everyone I thought. Everyone in all the human cities.”
“But they didn’t.” June gestures to the robe-clad people.
“I see that.” I shake my head. “Apparently, they saved a bunch as what? Entertainment? Servants?”
“I don’t know,” June says. “They’re here, so it can’t be good.”
She’s right. “All dressed alike and branded, they may very well be here for the sadistic pleasure of the Urthmen,” I say with disgust.
June shivers. “You’re probably right.” Her gaze bounces from the humans to the sky. “The sun will be up before you know it.”
The sky is brightening, transitioning from an inky abyss to navy blue with patches of electric blue to the east near the horizon. Daylight is fast approaching, and we don’t have a plan. I sense that June is indirectly asking for one. I share with her the only thought I have. Our only real option.
“I know,” I say. “I think we should monitor the gate closely, stick around and watch to time the pattern of the guards that patrol it.”
“They seem very laid-back. And walking the perimeter isn’t the most effective way to secure a space.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agree. “Especially when you’re not at an elevated point.” I recall the guards we had along the wall at Cassowary. Alert and spaced at regular intervals, they had a complete view of the surrounding area from every angle. “We figure out their pattern and in the time between their pass and the next group’s, we climb the fence and go in.”
June stares at me for a long moment. “Okay,” she says finally.
We move back into the shadow between the castle and the second building, careful to remain crouched and hidden. We watch the guards, studying their buffoonish, lackadaisical behavior until we have it down pat. As soon as a group passes, we know we have a few minutes before the next will come around.
“Now,” I whisper to June, and we both scale the fence. As soon as we land, we dart across the grass toward the structure where the humans are coming and going and manage to make it to the massive wooden door at its westerly side unseen.
Panting from anxiety and exertion, my hand trembles when I reach for the black wrought-iron handle of the door with it. Squeezing my eyes shut and begging the universe for the impossible—for it to be open—I twist my wrist.
My eyes snap open in complete surprise when the turn is met without resistance. The door is unlocked.
Fear saturates every cell in my body. Is this a trap? Have we been spotted and baited into an epic Urthmen snare? Or are the Urthmen just so lax with security? June and I will find out now. Staring at June and conveying love, appreciation and fear for her, I inhale and hold my breath in my lungs as I push the door forward, sliding my foot into a space that could be filled with armed Urthmen. I could be opening the door to our deaths.