Panic squeezes my chest.
Don’t think about it, I command myself. We’re going to get Jarosh to the Halves’ lands. He’s going to be fine.
“Son of a—” Jarosh growls as I lift him off the ground.
“Not in front of the children,” Ry wags a finger at him.
“I’m not a child!” Wokee throws a wild punch behind his head that comes nowhere near Ry.
I brace myself against Vlaz’s stomach as I reach Jarosh’s body over my head. Ekil and Ry manage to pull him between them with only a few curses and groans from Jarosh.
Ekil explains the directions for finding his lands, which I quickly translate for Wokee.
“You sure about this?” Ry asks Wokee.
“Positive,” Wokee replies. “Just don’t pull any of his feathers. He really hates that.”
“We definitely wouldn’t want to upset the hyenair,” Ry mutters.
“Be careful,” I warn as Wokee leans over Vlaz’s side to say something into the hyenair’s ear.
“Don’t worry.” Wokee pats Vlaz’s neck. “Nothing to fear except mind blowing speed.” He gives me a superior smile. “He might be even faster than you.”
I can’t help but grin back.
“Hang on, everyone!” Wokee calls.
Ekil turns back to look at me, and it is only when the fear in his black eyes meets mine that I realize what a terrible idea this is. What were we thinking? But before I can give voice to my concerns, Wokee lets out a single sharp whistle.
My stomach lurches into my throat as Vlaz rises from his crouch. I cling to the hyenair’s sides with my legs, but he’s too wide for me to wrap my legs around him, so I have to grab fistfuls of fur to keep from sliding off.
“We’re all insane,” I hear Ry mutter as Vlaz begins to move.
“It’s been nice knowing you all,” Jarosh says in a weak voice.
Aunt Jadem is saying something to Wokee, and Ekil is gesturing in the direction we need to fly. The cords of Vlaz’s muscles ripple and churn beneath me. He begins to beat his wings, and Ry is thrust back against me.
We’re too heavy. He’ll never get off the ground.
Vlaz rears back, and it’s all I can do to keep from sliding off as Vlaz lurches into the air. The ground drops away. Wokee whoops.
A ridiculous urge to shut my eyes comes over me. Instead, I stare down at the ruins of Tanguro below.
The fires the Duskers set are still smoldering. There is a crater between the two buildings where the Duskers’ explosives collapsed the tunnels. The orderly grid of trees in the courtyard has become a charred, scattered mess. Somewhere below is Brice’s grave and the bones of hundreds of soldiers who died for…what? Tanguro is destroyed, and we’re no closer to freedom from the Duskers than when I was a scared little girl hiding in my father’s Subterrane.
What made me think I could give the men and women who fought with me what they wanted…that I could save them?
I look down at Tanguro, where I’ve left a part of myself. I look until Vlaz changes direction and the colors below start to melt into each other. Luminous greens, purples, golds, and pinks blend together and leave spots on my eyelids.
When I first entered the Wild Lands, the colors were too bright, the sun too strong. A flower with an intoxicating scent nearly lured me to my death. Even the insects wanted us all dead, and a fair number of them were large enough to do it.
In mere months, though, this place became more home to me than anywhere I have ever been. And now I’m leaving it all behind.
Wind crashes in my ears and lashes the strands of my hair across my cheeks. A scream sticks in my throat as Vlaz rises and my stomach drops.
If I had time to think about it, I would have expected riding a hyenair to feel the way it looks: fluid and graceful. But Vlaz’s body pitches up and down with the invisible currents of the air. Every time he pumps his wings, the whole chain of our company is thrust backward onto my lap. Wokee shouts something, but I can’t make out his words over the rushing wind. I grit my teeth and cling to Vlaz as we rise higher.
By the time I grow semi-used to the motion, the crest of the mountains is below us.
I echo Ry’s scream when, without warning, Vlaz folds his wings and dives. I grab for a handhold and clutch Vlaz’s fur until my knuckles turn white. Just when I’m sure we’re about to crash nose-first, Vlaz’s paws hit the ground with a jolt that rattles my bones. He gallops for a few paces, sending a spray of dust in our wake.
My body is shaking so violently I don’t know for sure when we stop moving. I’m dimly aware of Wokee’s shouts of woohoo, and Jadem congratulating him on getting us here alive.
I fall more than slide from Vlaz’s back onto jellied legs. The others follow, looking more or less the way I feel. Ry’s face is redder than her hair, which is sticking rebelliously out from the hood of her blue cloak.
Vlaz stands beside us. His purple tongue is hanging out of his mouth and his sides are matted with sweat, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing nearly as hard as the rest of us.
Aunt Jadem passes down an unconscious Jarosh. It takes both Ekil and me, with our wobbling legs, to support his weight. Wokee slides to the ground and bows.
“See?” he gloats. “I told you.”
“You’re a marvel,” Aunt Jadem agrees.
Wokee beams.
“Yeah,” Ry grumbles. “Thanks for not letting us die.”
“Any time,” Wokee replies, giving Vlaz’s leg a rub.
A crude wall of rocks marks the beginning of the Halves’ lands. Just ahead, standing sentry at two shriveled, dust-covered trees, is a stooped Halve. The long wisps of black hair make me think this Halve is a female, but it’s impossible to be sure. The Halve takes one look at Vlaz, shrieks, and runs away on all-fours.
“Flying beast stays away,” Ekil says.
“Just a minute,” Aunt Jadem raises a finger as soon as I have finished translating. “We need him to get back to the fortress.”
“Don’t worry,” Wokee says. “He’ll be back whenever I call for him.”
“We don’t have time to dally,” Aunt Jadem presses.
Dally? I stare at my aunt. She couldn’t possibly mean that stopping for Jarosh could be dallying, could she?
“But Jarosh….” Ry echoes my thoughts as she gestures to our friend’s limp form. “We have to get him healed first.”
“Of course, of course,” Aunt Jadem says, but she isn’t looking at Ry. Her attention is on the horizon to the south, in the direction of Solis.
Wokee whispers a few words into Vlaz’s ear, and the hyenair pumps his powerful wings. We shield our faces as a cyclone of dust threatens to engulf us. And then Vlaz is rising again.
“He might have gotten us here,” Ry says rubbing her backside, “but I’m not getting back on him any time soon.” She narrows her eyes at Wokee. “Unlike you, I value my life.”
As soon as Vlaz is gone, Ekil puts two fingers to his mouth and makes a shrill whistling sound. In less than a minute, two Halves appear out of the haze of dust. Their bare feet stomp the ground with so much force I can feel the vibrations beneath my boots.
“They take your friend to our healer.” Ekil gestures to Jarosh.
The two Halves reach to take Jarosh’s limp body from me.
“That’s alright,” I say, shifting Jarosh away from them. “I’ll take him.”
“They take,” Ekil insists. “You come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Show you what humans have done to us.”
“Um, Hemera?” Ry asks, giving the two Halves a pointed look. They’re filthy and wear nothing but rags covering their lower body.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Ekil.
The Halve nods. “They take care of him.”
Reluctantly, I let the Halves take Jarosh from me. “Be gentle,” I warn them, as one grabs Jarosh around his waist.
Jarosh looks too small and frail in the Halves’ arms. He looks more like a child th
an the imposing soldier I know him to be. The sight of him like this makes my eyes sting with unshed tears.
When the Halves, and Jarosh, have vanished back the way they came, Ekil motions for us to follow. We fall into a line as a narrow footpath appears through the shriveled weeds.
After living in Tanguro for so long, the land on the other side of the mountains just looks…brown. There are hardly any trees, and the ones that have managed to grow in this parched land are thin and barren. There is an outcropping of rock not far away, but even the rocks are brown.
Divots in the earth that wind and curve across the dry land hold the memory of water. We follow Ekil down a steep ravine, of what used to be the Banished River, which is now bone dry.
“You really weren’t joking,” I tell Ekil. “The Duskers took away your water.” Until now, I don’t think I actually believed what he had said.
“What’s joking?” is Ekil’s only reply.
We pass the skeleton of some large animal beneath the shriveled remains of what must have been a towering script tree before the river went dry. Now, the tree is just a mass of leafless branches.
The Duskers did this.
“Do you think they have anything decent to eat?” Wokee asks as we walk.
“Judging from what we’ve seen so far,” Ry says, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Wokee’s next question is drowned out by a raucous shouting.
At first, I can’t see anything through the dust cloud hanging over whatever is making the noise. The cries get louder as we make our way closer. The path ends in front of what looks like a large wooden pen surrounded by dozens of Halves. Every movement sends a new plume of dust into the air. Ry, Aunt Jadem, and Wokee are all coughing and rubbing their eyes, but the Halves don’t even seem to notice the pollution.
“It’s because of the river,” Aunt Jadem says between coughs. “Without the water and plant life, there’s nothing to hold the dirt down anymore.”
Ekil leads us through the mob of Halves, who are jeering as they stare transfixed at whatever is inside the ring. A chorus of rumbling, guttural calls erupts; the Halves stomp their bare feet with so much force the ground trembles. We’re absorbed into the thick crowd, pushed and jostled from every side, until we find ourselves pressed up against the fence. There is a mob of Halves at our backs. Ry grabs my arm as one of the Halves nearly knocks her over with an excited wave of its arm. He’s so much bigger than Ry I doubt he even noticed her standing right beside him.
Inside the pen are two of the biggest Halves I’ve ever seen. Standing at my full height, I’d probably only reach their midsections. Their chests are broad and muscled, and their flexed biceps are as thick as my torso. Their gnarled fists are clenched and their crooked, yellow teeth are bared. Rust-colored blood streaks their faces and bare chests. They look every bit as savage as I grew up believing Halves to be.
The two Halves circle each other. One of them lunges, but it’s too slow. The other pivots out of the way and lands a vicious kick at the first’s kneecap. The Halve lets out a pained shriek, which is quickly drowned out by murderous shouts from the Halves surrounding the ring.
Before the injured Halve can recover, the other has him on the ground.
He presses one enormous foot on the other’s chest, who writhes as he tries to free himself. Layers of muscle ripple across his bare, scaly chest as the winning Halve flexes his arm. Ry’s gasp echoes my own as the Halve brings his fist down on the one lying in the ground with a sickening crunch. The Halve on the ground spasms.
My first reaction is a desperate urge to cover Wokee’s eyes, but he’s out of reach, and the Halves pressed against the fence are making it impossible to move an inch.
The winning Halve raises his bare foot and brings it down on the other Halve’s head. Brown blood flies through the air as the Halve’s body jerks for several seconds before stilling.
We need to get out of here.
“What in the sun is happening?” Ry’s voice is filled with revulsion. She fingers the feathered end of an arrow, even though there isn’t enough space in this crowd for her to draw her bow.
The victorious Halve leaps out of the ring, almost landing on top of another Halve in the crowd. He doesn’t even notice as we all scramble out of his way as he pumps his thick, scaly fists in the air. There is a feral look in his black eyes.
One of the Halves on the outermost edge of the circle shoves another. With a roar of anger, the offended Halve swings his fist in a wide arc, hitting two others on the way to his target. As more join the fray, a full-on brawl erupts. I shove the Halve beside me to keep it from barreling straight into Wokee.
A firm tap on my shoulder makes me whirl around.
“Ekil.” I’m almost dizzy with relief. “What’s happening?” I have to shout to be heard over the bedlam.
“They fight.” Ekil nods.
“I see that.” The little patience I had is fast waning as chaos explodes around us. “Why are they fighting?”
Ekil moves one of his shoulders in what might be a shrug as he carves a path for us out of the bedlam. “To practice.”
The path takes us past stagnant pools covered in a brown oily substance that wafts a foul odor. Beside it, a Halve crouched on all fours is gnawing on a bone. With a shudder, it occurs to me the bone might not be an animal’s. I swallow hard. Have I sentenced Jarosh to death by bringing him here?
From the looks on Aunt Jadem and Ry’s faces, I know they’re having similar thoughts.
“Practice for what?” I ask.
The look in Ekil’s eye makes me cold with dread.
“Kill the humans,” Ekil nods his head up and down, “and the land will be ours.”
CHAPTER 6
The Halves are going to kill the Banished.
Pain gouges my stomach as I realize what the Duskers have done. By redirecting the river, they’re forcing the Halves and Banished to kill each other over fast-dwindling resources. The Duskers won’t need to come anywhere near here to do battle—their enemies are doing their work for them.
And I promised Ekil I would help.
“What am I supposed to do?”
I only realize I spoke the question aloud when Aunt Jadem answers.
“If you can convince the Halves to come back to the fortress, I could call a council with the Banished leaders.” She purses her lips, making the scar across her mouth stand out in a thin, white line. “Perhaps we can help them see they have a common enemy, and it’s not each other.”
“Oh yeah,” Ry rolls her eyes. “That will go really well. Tell the Banished they have to sit at the same table as the Halves who have been stealing from them and killing them.”
“It’s not their fault,” I tell her.
“Of course it’s not,” my aunt says. “It’s the Duskers’. And the sooner we can make both the Halves and the Banished realize that, the better for us all.” She rubs at her one good eye, and for a moment, her exhaustion is obvious.
“We can’t fight the Duskers on our own,” my aunt continues. “We need the Banished and the Halves to help.”
“The Halves will never agree to fight with the Banished,” I say.
“And vice versa,” adds Ry.
“If either wishes to survive, they may not have a choice.”
Ry and I exchange a look before I turn back to Ekil. “Will you come with us to the rebel fortress?”
Ekil regards me with his black eyes. “We will not live with humans again.” He shivers, and I know he’s thinking about the time he spent as my father’s prisoner.
“Tell them there’s lots of good food at Jadem’s,” Wokee suggests, reading the expression on my face.
I translate Wokee’s offer, which Ekil considers.
“They help destroy the gray cloaks?”
“Yes.” My answer comes without hesitation.
Ekil nods once. “I will ask them.”
“And you’ll stop attacking the settlements until then?”
Ekil nods again
. “If you will promise we get our land and river back.”
I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make.
“I’ll do my best,” I tell him.
We follow Ekil away from the fight to an above-ground hut, which is the only structure the Halves built on the Outside aside from the fighting pen. The white specere leaves thatched around the hut’s outside remind me of Tanguro. An ache I’m beginning to be familiar with nestles deeper into my gut.
By now, the pen where two new Halves are fighting is out of sight, but their jeering is still audible. Wokee’s face is pale, and I know he must be thinking about the Halve crushing the other one’s skull with his bare foot. A wave of guilt washes over me. I never should have brought him here.
Ekil pushes open the rickety door, which is taller and wider than any human door, and waves us inside.
“I hope we don’t find Jarosh roasting over a spit in here,” Ry mutters.
The grunts of the Halves still fighting fade as soon as we step into the hut.
The inside is more spacious than I would have guessed. It’s also cleaner. The fat candles burning in each corner give off a strong, but not unpleasant, scent. Large, crudely-made earthen bowls filled with various powders and dried herbs are lined against the wall. Hammocks stitched from dried leaves hang between wooden poles on the far side of the hut.
Everything is twice as large as it would be in a human-made cave, from the earthen pots to the hammocks that could easily fit four humans on each. It makes me feel tiny and helpless, like I’m a little kid surrounded by grown-ups.
A Halve leans over the first hammock, where the blue hood of Jarosh’s cloak is just visible over the top of the Halve’s head. At the sound of the door creaking shut, the Halve stands up and turns to face us.
“Camike is our healer,” Ekil says by way of introduction. “She will help your friend.”
“This one looks different,” Wokee observes.
Like Ekil, this Halve is much less stooped than the others. Her skin is still rough, but it glistens like she has covered it in some kind of oil. She is also smaller than the others, both shorter and less stout. She’s easily the height and girth of a full-grown man, but standing beside Ekil, she looks almost dainty. She has made her hair look fuller by weaving brightly colored feathers among the strands. Instead of the filthy loincloth the others wear, she has an animal hide dress that covers one shoulder and is tied around her waist with a leather belt.
Halve Human Page 4
