Mercy Rising: The Prophecy

by DC Little

  Mulroney shifted his weight and pressed his snarly lips together. Finally, he met Orion’s eyes in a determined stare. “You got my word.”

  “Good. Then, I’m going to climb that monstrous tree.”

  Orion walked back up to the tree, laying his hand on the bark as if to ask for permission. He didn’t know where that thought came from, only that it came in a tone that didn’t belong to him, but a voice that seemed to always be within him. He shook his head. He didn’t have time to play the mind games this would lead him on.

  Grasping the tree with fingers deep in the bark grooves, and putting one foot on the trunk and then the other, he used the counter push and pull to make his way slowly up the trunk. The first tentative steps granted him confidence, and soon his body movements synchronized, and he felt like a bear climbing a tree. Not that he had ever seen that happen, but he had read about it.

  Twisting his head so he could see above him, he realized he had already made the first branch. Knowing he couldn’t let go with one hand for too long without throwing off the counter balance and falling, what he now realized was more like fifteen feet rather than ten, he focused on what he needed his body to do. The branch had no leaves and was cracked at the end. Yet, the junction looked strong.

  Even in the cool air, sweat ran down his head, chest, and armpits. His muscles, taut with exertion, prompted him to make a judgment call. Fifteen feet wouldn’t kill him. With a grunt, he launched himself toward the branch, catching it with both hands.

  He didn’t wait to see if it would hold him. With the speed he knew meant safety over death, he pulled himself up and to the next branch, climbing the tree like an unwieldy ladder. Once he stood upon the springy live branches, he leaned against the trunk and allowed himself a quick reprieve.

  The ground below him spun as it always did this high up. Mulroney nodded grimly, and Big Al watched with the same impassive expression.

  “Doesn’t anything impress you, Big Al?” Orion called down.

  The big man’s face didn’t even twitch but continued to watch him like a man would an ant trying to carry a burden too big for him.

  Mulroney mumbled something that Orion didn’t quite catch, but he swore he heard the word crazy. He looked back up the tree, deciding another ten feet would give him the view he needed. The tree swayed gently in the breeze, and for a moment, Orion wondered if maybe he was a little crazy after all.

  Focusing on the task before him, he kept his eyes only on the tree as he climbed. The trunk gradually narrowed, now bending more as the wind picked up with his elevation. A sense of self-preservation nagged within him. Here. Here was far enough.

  Wedging himself between a cluster of branches, he finally looked out to the land beyond. The view knocked the breath out of him. The overhead sky faded into a dull, purplish grey, but the mountains to the east glowed pink and majestic. A memory floated up, pulling on his heart.

  His mom had taken him to the roof when he was ten. He had just had an awful fight with the Old Man and anger filled him at the injustices of life. His mom, still a semblance of herself then, had pulled him into her arms and pointed at the sky turning a brilliant orange. “That right there, my son, is proof that something powerful is out there, watching over us.”

  She never taught him about God or Allah or any religion, but she helped him notice miraculous aspects of their world. Those mountains before him now reminded him of that powerful force.

  “Do you see anything?” Mulroney called, his voice sounding distant and distorted, as if coming from a different world.

  “Oh, yeah,” Orion whispered. “I see.”

  Reluctantly pulling his eyes away, he swept the forest under him, looking for signs of human life. No smoke curled into the air. No areas looked cleared by man. Trees...a sea of trees. Birds flew to roost in their tops, squirrels chattered while finding their nests, but he saw no signs of large creatures or humans.

  He had seen the wrinkled, aged map Mulroney handled every night around the campfire. They headed northeast, toward the mountains. His eyes scanned that area, though they pulled farther north than east as if a siren called to him from the sea of trees, a siren who sang in words only he could hear.

  Before beginning his descent to report his findings, he took another moment to soak in the magic of the view. His heart filled, and he swore he wasn’t in the tree alone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  >>>—MERCY—<<<

  Mercy scanned her side of the dwelling in the dim firelight, intent that she would not forget something vital for her hunt. A shiver ran through her. Normally, she wouldn’t have let Darius get to her like this. He had wiggled under her skin, burrowing deep within and unearthing all of her insecurities.

  “You’re really going to do this?” Tucker watched her, looking calm and regal sitting on top of his furs.

  With a quick glance, she saw the fire blazing in his eyes and knew the outward calm only hid the fervency building within him. She pulled her eyes away to double check the gear in her pack and stuff another chunk of jerky into it.

  “This is ridiculous.” Tucker pushed to a stand, leaving his peace on his furs. His fists squeezed and released over and over.

  It was ridiculous. Tucker only stated the obvious. She paused mid-movement. Why did she insist on seeing this through?

  “There’s a storm coming. You feel it, don’t you?” Tucker eyed her, grabbing her arm.

  “Yes.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. The heaviness in the air, the oppressive cold, she could feel the storm building. “I have to go.” The words left her mouth though she had not meant for them to.

  “Why? Is your ego really too big to handle ignoring that idiot?”

  Why did she have to go? She pondered the question again as she rolled up the bear fur she slept in every night in winter. The fur would be heavy to carry, but she couldn’t survive a winter storm without it.

  Darius irritated her, but knowing that he openly spoke what others inwardly felt bothered her more. She had seen the transition happen with the few girls ahead of her. After Choosing Day, even though her Dad insisted everyone train and take part in the drills, the women slowly pulled away from hunts and other excursions that somehow they deemed for men only. They grew soft and eventually kept to camp with pregnancy or children to care for.

  All of Zion seemed to expect that from her...and her once-friends now wanted to lay claim to her. No one owned her, and she planned on keeping it that way. If it took proving herself capable, even more capable than a stronger man, then so be it. Better dead in the wilderness than seen as nothing more than a breeder.

  She tied the leather thong around her fur roughly, feeling her frustration burn.

  Tucker laid a hand on her shoulder. “Sis, you have nothing to prove.”

  She flashed her narrowed eyes toward him. “Easy for a man to say.”

  Tucker took a step back, his brows furrowing. “A man?”

  Mercy grunted in reply before turning to tie the fur to the bottom of her pack. “Do you really think—” she stopped before she released a floodgate. Opening up now would mean taking time for an in-depth discussion with Tucker.

  She hadn’t stirred this hornet’s nest with her brother for a reason. Would he even understand the change...the pressure that sat heavy upon her? And that’s without the whole prophecy thing...if their friends knew about that mass of trouble, maybe they wouldn’t be so eager for her to choose them.

  She shook her head, trying to clear out the fuzziness. She needed this trip. Nothing better to clear out the garbage swirling in her head than being alone. Her last solo hunting trip had been at the beginning of autumn. Too long ago.

  She shrugged on her pack, her shoulders protesting. Experience taught a person many things, and she knew the discomfort would slowly work into a numbing as her body grew accustomed to the extra weight. At the door, she turned back toward Tucker, his eyes now filled with worry more than fire.

  “Please tell Mom and Dad I love them. If
I go myself, he might not let me leave.”

  “Then maybe you should tell them yourself. You know Mom hasn’t been feeling well.” Tucker crossed his arms.

  “Mom will be okay. She’s just...tired.” Having to say goodbye would just add more stress to her mom. The healers were taking care of her. She probably was just working too hard.

  “If I didn’t know you would return, I’d tie you down myself.”

  “See,” she said with a smile as she squeezed his arm, “you don’t have to worry.”

  “There are worse things than death, you know.” His grumbling voice told her everything she needed to know. It wasn’t a warning. He was only trying to get his way...to keep her in the safety of camp.

  “I love you, too, Bubba. Be back in a couple days, hopefully with a bear in tow.”

  “We always return to each other.”

  She glanced back at him, her heart softening for a moment “We always return to each other.”

  Mercy escaped into the crisp pre-dawn. The sting of her first inhale of icy air told her all she needed to know. The storm approaching would blanket their world in white.

  She shrugged. A storm would only prove her capabilities further. With a held breath, she glanced at her parents’ dwelling. A burst of smoke pillowed above the hole in the top. They were up. Tightening her pack to her back, she sped as silently as her newly oiled moccasin boots allowed, escaping through camp and the hidden entrance.

  Even as she passed through the opening and dragged a branch across her tracks leaving the granite boulders, she glared at Darius on watch and warily watched behind her. Trust only ran as deep as the situation allowed, and if Tucker really thought her in danger, he would have told her parents the moment she left.

  The thought bristled within her and quickened her steps until she realized the absurdity of it. If Tucker really thought her in danger, he would do exactly as he said...he would prevent her from leaving himself. The two of them had grown up knowing how to stand on their own two feet. Being the children of the leaders, they had to prove their own worth and not ride the power of their father’s influence. No, Tucker wouldn’t have run to Dad. He would have taken the situation on himself.

  She drew in a deeper breath, her lungs already acclimatized to the frozen air. The sky slowly lightened in the east beyond the mountains and into the land unknown. No one had traveled that far since they settled Zion. She traveled toward the light, a beacon that called to her.

  The day passed quicker than she realized as she walked almost in a trance, observing her surroundings and finding gratitude for the beautiful life that surrounded her. Out here, alone in the forest, she felt truly free and at home.

  She wondered if she would cross paths with Butler and Ryan. They had left the day before on a long scavenger trip. Butler liked being alone, too. The day they had all been held in Meyers’ camp seemed to have bonded them. Even if Mercy couldn’t remember the events herself, there was something she always felt missing. She knew Butler felt it, and now she wondered if it wasn’t what was making her mom sick.

  Standing on a rise as the sun sank behind her, she realized she had passed farther east than she ever had before. The east woods called to her, a low rhythmic sound that pulsed like the beat of the earth itself. It came as a deep, ancient voice, steady with promise. Mercy could almost taste it, earthy, moist, and primal, as she swallowed her excitement.

  Somewhere in this area was First Camp. It didn’t matter that no one would think to look for her there, a place beyond the borders of the Forbidden. All that mattered was the call, the pulsing that drove her forward.

  A crow cried out a greeting as he hopped from branch to branch, keeping her company as she weaved through pines, firs, and the occasional, naked dogwood. She cocked her head and clucked in a realistic imitation. The intelligent bird cocked its own head, studying her.

  Mercy let out a laugh, a gentle sound that blew on the breeze. The sound made her acutely aware of her feminineness, and the thought caused her to pause. A slight wind brought the scent of water, snow-melt wetness. She ducked a low branch and stood in awe.

  A hidden jewel sparkled before her, a streaming waterfall nestled between granite and woodlands. The pulsing eased as if in a sigh of contentment at her arrival.

  At the water’s edge, she shrugged out of her pack and knelt to drink the fresh snowmelt. She had been taught, like everyone in Zion, to boil drinking water that didn’t come directly from the spring. Yet, her father had also taught her the safety and deliciousness of snowmelt water.

  It tasted crisp, as if she were drinking the purest liquid on earth. She closed her eyes to savor the life-giving water before reaching into her pack for her canteen. The metal bottle didn’t have one area that wasn’t dinged or bent, but she treasured this container from the World Before.

  Movement to her left had her in position, bow drawn and ready to release in mere seconds. When the fluffy brown head of a rabbit poked out of the brush, Mercy laughed out loud and lowered her bow. That is one difference between her and the guys. They would have shot the cute animal on sight, a perfect dinner for a night under the stars.

  She glanced at the clouds darkening above her. The slow-moving storm grew more threatening by the minute. There would be no stars to see tonight. She let her disappointment process while turning back to watch the rabbit munch on some leaves, its ears flickering one way and then the other.

  Easing herself into a sitting position, she let her mind wander while absently watching the rabbit. Fluffies. That’s what she had called them as a child. Tucker retold stories of how she wouldn’t let him shoot her fluffies. A smile teased her lips.

  Far off rumbling had her looking into the foreboding sky once more. Definitely no stargazing for her. In fact, she should find shelter. Even though the thought hung heavy on her, she didn’t move. Stargazing made the nights alone not so lonely. She would miss staring at Orion’s constellation tonight.

  A thrumming built up inside her. Orion. She took in her surroundings once more. Somewhere around here First Camp lay in ruins, which meant that Meyers’ camp wasn’t far either. A shiver went through her. Her parents didn’t talk about it much, the night held a darkness they didn’t like to visit, but the storyteller often told of the attack, including her and her mother being kidnapped.

  Mercy was too young to remember, but the times when she had heard the stories, her skin would rise in goosebumps and a strange longing pulled within her. Every once in a while, her mom still would wake up, calling Orion’s name. The boy she couldn’t protect...Butler’s son.

  Something unseen had tied them together that day, and when she looked up at the stars, seeing the belt, the club, she wondered where he was. It always made her feel closer to him...a boy she couldn’t remember. Yet, she never questioned if he still lived. Somehow she knew he did...probably in the chaos of the cities her dad had forbidden anyone from Zion to explore.

  Orion stayed on her mind as she collected branches, creating a lean-to shelter under a grove of trees a few yards from the snowmelt creek. Ideally, she would have been further into her journey before making camp, but she felt the storm descending upon her. Sure enough, as she topped her shelter with live cedar branches to protect her from the precipitation, the first snowflake landed on her nose.

  By the time she had dug the trench above the top rise of her shelter, the snow made a fine blanket over the pine-needled forest floor. A chill traveled across her. Tonight would be cold, cold and lonely, and long. Though, the only person she craved to be near belonged to a pair of eyes that she didn’t even know truly existed beyond the imaginings of her mind.

  >>>—ORION—<<<

  Orion woke shivering. His entire body shook as he looked around their dark camp from the protection of his moth-eaten blanket. The snow had smothered the fire, leaving only a hump as evidence that it ever existed. Other, larger bumps showed where his companions slept...if they actually slept.

  He ducked his head back under the blanket,
stuck his fists under his armpits and tucked his feet as close to his rear as he physically could. Living on the streets brought chilly nights, nights he thought he would die from exposure, but nothing had prepared him for this.

  When the first flakes had fallen, he had caught one on his tongue in childish glee. He had heard the stories, but never had he experienced snow himself. That excitement still lived as he marveled with the blanket that covered the land. Right now, though, he would feel no loss if he never saw snow again.

  His teeth chattered so loudly he swore it would wake the others, not to mention break a tooth. After a torturous amount of time, he peeked out of the blanket, sure that it must finally be dawn. A faint glow lit the cloud-filled sky, light enough to see the snow continuing to fall.

  The early light was enough for him. Keeping the blanket around his shoulders, he sat up, pumping his fingers and toes to bring back the circulation. He had seen the coalition men the Old Man had sent out on a fool’s errand during winter. The ones that had survived returned with black, solid toes, fingers, and even noses.

  Orion hesitantly reached up to touch his frozen nose with his stiff fingers. Surely, he would feel if frostbite had begun. The thought sent him scurrying to the fire lump. He dug out the bowl they had lined with rock, finding logs next to it. Who had fire-duty last night? His mind fumbled with what to do before it finally landed on the need for dry tinder...and wood.

  With a silent groan, he stood and scanned the area for a tree with low, dead branches. The big fir to his right looked the most promising. Under the snow-laden branches, he found not only some dead and dry branches but also a few clumps of bright green, mossy-looking lichen. He plucked it and broke the branches off, hoping it would be enough to get the fire going.

  The Old Man had been foolhardy once again, sending them out in winter to do his bidding. Why now? What had changed that he finally decided to enact the revenge he had been promising for the last eighteen years?