Darkthaw (21 page)

A flicker of movement to my right catches my eye. A dark shape is crouched low by the big tent on the outskirts. Isi.

Mayhap I should make a loud sound in the brush or some such—so they'll come and investigate and he can skirt the camp to Nico's tent. But I see Isi has a light in his hand—one of the lanterns from the periphery. He's taken off its glass housing and is bending it toward the fabric of the tent.

He's creating his own distraction.

But why? I thought he was going to get “in and out like a fox in a pheasant's nest”? My heart races even as I feel a wash of frustration. What should I do? Wait until the men are distracted with that tent and break for the horses? Or stay and make sure Isi gets Nico out unseen? What can I do if he doesn't?

Bleed it!

Suddenly there's a loud whine from the woods on the far side of the tents—behind Isi. Isi freezes, and the men's heads snap toward the woods.

“Leon!” the big man shouts, leaping to his feet and raising that impossible gun to his eye. The blond man appears at the door of the big tent, his shirt unbuttoned, a wicked-looking gun like the one the big man carries in his hand. The whine comes again.

“Shore up!” he shouts at the group.

The men scramble to their feet, grabbing for their weapons, forming a semicircle that faces the woods.

Silence.

The blond man—Leon—nods at the huge man, who picks up a lantern and turns to the woods. He stalks forward, one hand holding his weapon, the other shining the light at the woods beyond.

Another whine. The big man stops in his tracks. The rest of the men swing their guns, searching the dark for something to shoot.

The river rushes. The men shift as the big man casts his lantern high. Isi crouches out of the light.

And now, a sound I've never heard, like a thousand woodpeckers drilling holes into metal. It rattles out from the trees in a deadly roar—loud, so loud I throw my hands to my ears.

The big man's lantern crashes to the ground and ignites in its own oil. He follows it face-first, his body shredded to bloody pieces.

The scene before me explodes.

Leon dives behind the big tent as the rest of the men shout and duck, firing their weapons at will, at nothing. The dark-haired woman at the fire turns to run for the river but makes it two strides before pitching forward, shredded the same as the big man.

The men scatter, firing their weapons into the dark. Don't need to reload or draw a hammer back, they just fire. Over and over. And from the woods, more deafening noise. Another man is hit and falls, tossed like a bloody leaf in a whirlwind.

I cast a frantic look around for Isi.

He's gone. The lantern lies on its side near the tent, and a small flame is starting up the side.

The hailstorm of bullets is loud, but there is shouting over top of it all—cries of anger and elation at once—in a language I don't know. I squint into the darkness.

And now, with the flames casting light onto the woods, I see them. They're hidden in the trees on the far side of the newly built wall, moving forward. Long dark hair, clothes like Isi—First Peoples.

I scan for him, but there are people running and shouting and long shadows dancing on the walls of the tents and loud bangs and—there! He's slipping along behind the tents to the north. His dark shape appears and disappears in the orange haze.

I want to shrink back into the safety of the trees, but I force myself to move. Now is the best chance I'll have. I dart forward to the horses, who are pulling at their lead ropes, eyes rolling. With Isi's knife, I saw at the lead rope of the first horse, grasping it firm in one hand. When the fibers split, I'm hauled off my feet as it throws its head back and rears. Hands burning, I hold fast. As the beast lands on all fours, I take one running step and leap with all of my might from my good foot, throwing my bad leg over its tall back and clinging for all I'm worth. The horse leaps into the forest, away from the chaos.

At once I realize my mistake: I have only the lead rope, no reins; no way to stop it or turn it about. As the beast crashes through the dark forest, a low branch races toward me. I put my face to the horse's neck so it doesn't take my head off.

The horse stops abrupt, and I near pitch to the earth. It snorts and dances back, its body trembling beneath me.
We've stopped at the river, and it knows the water is flowing too fast to cross.

I need to turn it around. Go back. Find Isi. I smooth a hand along the beast's neck, cooing to calm it. The gunshots have ended, but I can hear hoots and hollers from the camp, sounds of some kind of victory.

Oh Almighty. Did Isi get to Nico? Did he get away all right?

The hollering stops and there are new sounds: shouts of alarm. I hear “Don't let it spread to the Keep!”

The fire. The tent is burning fierce now.

This is good. I think. I hope.

If Isi got to Nico, which way would he try to leave the camp back toward us? Not toward the burning tent, surely. But the alternative is riverside, and wouldn't those people head for water to douse the flames?

What was his plan? What should I do?

I sheath my knife in my waistband, under my shirt. I slide from the horse and put a hand to its neck, fumbling with the rope. Trying to keep myself calm, though my heart is pounding in my throat, I put my head to my task, making reins from the rope like I did for Lucky, talking to the horse soft. I throw the reins over his head and am about to remount when I hear a hiss.

I drop to the earth and search the darkness.

The hiss comes again. “Em!”

It's coming from over the bank, by the river.

I crawl to the edge and look over.

In the moonlight, Isi's wide eyes stare back at me. He's got Nico on his back and a pack strapped to his front. He's
clinging to the unearthed tree roots that line the wall. I bite back a cry of relief. Branches snap behind me.

“Where do you think you're going with that horse?” says a voice.

I freeze. Isi's eyes go wider still.

“Get up,” the voice says, but it's not kindly. It's nowhere close.

I get to my feet and turn toward it. Standing in the dark beside the horse's rump is the foulest-looking man I've ever seen. His clothes are stiff and close-fitting, and his hat is caked with sweat and dirt, too small for his round, white face. He's got a gun that fits in his hand, and it's pointed at me.

His mouth breaks into a grin. “Well, look here,” he says. “Aren't you a nice little surprise.” His eyes rake over me, top to bottom.

My skin crawls. I will Nico to stay quiet down below the bank, but even as I do, a soft wail starts up. Nico is crying.
Almighty!

The man's eyes snap to the river behind me. “You got a friend?” He takes two quick strides, keeping his gun on me, and peers down. I know Isi's still there by the way that awful smile reappears on the man's face.

“Well, now,” he says. He sucks his teeth.

My heart is beating loud, so loud, with fear. But something else, too.

Anger.

The man jerks his head at Isi and Nico. “Help them up.”

I don't move.
Anger
. I can feel it starting in my fingertips, gaining strength as it moves up my arms and into my chest, my throat, my eyes.

He swings the gun so it's pointed toward Isi and Nico. Nico wails louder.

“Help them,” the man says again. “Or I'll shut that young one up right now.”

All at once the events of the last two days are barreling through my mind, everything these men—this man—is responsible for. Nishwa's leg, Andre and Sister Violet gunned down, shredded to bits. Kane lost. Nico torn away from us—I take a step toward the man.

“Too slow,” he spits out. He brings the gun up to the side of his face, like he might just shoot them without looking.

I can feel Isi's knife tucked in my leggings, under my shirt, and its weight makes me calm. So calm. My anger dies. I take two more careful steps toward him, my eyes on the ground.

When I see the tops of his boots, I stop.

And let it flood back in.

Rage
. White hot. In my heart. In my mind. Blinding me.

I tear the knife from my side with my right hand and lurch forward, slashing at the man's foul mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, and he fumbles the gun and drops it, throwing up his arms to ward off the blow.

He's too slow. My knife connects, and the skin of his cheek splits in a long crimson tear.

He hollers and staggers back. I lunge again before he can reach for his gun, tearing and shredding at him. He gets hold of my left hand, twisting my wrist so quick and hard a bright pain shoots through it. It ignites my rage anew. All I feel is a searing-hot nothingness as I draw my arm back and hammer the knife forward. I'm aiming for his chest. I will split him in two.

He grabs for me again, dodging the blade, but the movement throws him off balance and he slips backward on the dewy forest floor. His hands are busy fighting me off, can't break his fall—

Crack!

His head snaps forward as it connects with a rock. His eyes roll to the whites and his body jerks once. Then he's still.

I stand over the man's body, my chest heaving with breath.

“Em!” Isi's voice behind me. I turn and find him pulling himself over the edge. “Are you hurt?” He leaps to his feet and strides forward, reaching out for me.

I don't feel his touch. “No,” I say. My voice is a thousand strides away. I look back at the man again. He's not moving.

“We need to go,” Isi says. I turn my head and watch him hurry back to the riverbank. He kneels and lifts Nico up, setting him on the forest floor a few strides away from me.

Nico's face is white, his eyes wide and terrified, but he's stopped crying. He looks at me as if he doesn't know who I am.

I can't get my feet to walk to him. Can't reach out a hand. Everything moves so slow. That rage is gone. It's gone, and there's a sickness crawling up into my throat, making it impossible to speak. Everything is hazy, like some terrible dream.

“Ceril?” A voice calls through the trees.

My dream state shatters. I see Isi's eyes now. Wide. Looking at me. He snaps forward, grabs Nico, and hoists him on the horse. He beckons furious at me and makes a loop with his hands to help me climb up. I settle on top of the beast
and wrap my arms around Nico, biting my lip against the sudden reappearance of pain in my wrist. Isi leaps up behind us and reaches around me for the reins.

“Ceril!” the man calls again. Close. Too close. I look back—can see a shadow coming through the dark trees.

Isi puts his heels to the horse. It leaps ahead with a jerk.

I press my face into Nico's little neck as we crash through the forest.

Will myself to wake from this nightmare.

“YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE LEFT DANIEL,” ISI SAYS
for the thousandth time. He stomps alongside Lucky, his eyes scouting the brush ahead. Daniel is draped over the neck of the horse, his legs stretched to either side of her bulging belly, asleep.

Nico lolls against my chest, his head bobbing along with the soft rhythm of the horse's footsteps.

I don't answer. Strange thoughts filter through my head like sunlight through the boughs of the trees above: bloody footprints, bodies peppered through with dark red holes. I see Rebecca with her hands and feet hobbled, like that mare—about to give birth. My hands are numb. An hour ago all I could feel was the knife tearing into that man's face, the shard of pain running along my wrist. Now I feel nothing at all.

Now I'm thinking back on that moment from a strange sort of distance. Thinking: I could've been shot. Thinking: if I hadn't surprised that man the way I did, I'd be dead. But that idea doesn't scare me.

In that moment, everything spun away. There was nothing left but anger. Nothing but that fiery need to harm. It's like Isi said:

You are death
.

“Em.” Isi's voice breaks my thoughts. I focus on his face. He looks at me hard. “Stop thinking about it.”

“I wanted so bad to be out here,” I reply, but my voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. “Since the moment I found Matisa last fall, I wanted to be out here.” I wait for the icy feeling in my chest, but it doesn't come. I'm outside myself, looking in. “But look what being out here's done.”

Isi frowns and looks away.

We continue in silence until the dark becomes blue light.

Daniel wakes, rubbing at his eyes and messy hair. Isi stops and steadies him as he sits up and looks back at Nico and me. His eyes widen with delight, like they did when we found him last night. He was singing that Almighty-lovin' rabbit song and feeding Lucky handfuls of grass, and when he saw his brother, his face shifted into a mask of sheer relief. He asked about Kane, but I couldn't respond. Couldn't speak. In that moment, I felt nothing.

Now Daniel points to his brother. “Nico's still sleeping!”