by DC Little
“Like a boy being raised by the enemy rather than his own father?” She spat the words out. “You don’t think he has suffered enough at the hands of your leadership?”
Her fists dug so hard into her hips, she knew she would have bruises tomorrow, probably also on her palms from her fingertips being clenched so tightly. Her mind flooded with the idiocy of the leaders, leaders she had relied on, that she saw as wise and worthy of their position. What was wrong with them?
“What happened to Orion is unfortunate. There was nothing we could do.” Her dad lowered his gaze, staring into the fire, his eyes clouding over in memory. “If he had stayed, we would have been able to protect him.” He raised his head once again to meet her eyes. “He made his choice. Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait to see the coalition’s next move.” Arland spread his hands out in a helpless motion.
“Wait? He’s in trouble! I can feel it as if he lives in my soul!” Her anger made any embarrassment from the admission disappear. It no longer mattered. The only thing that she cared about was rescuing Orion. He was hers to protect.
“There is nothing we can do without jeopardizing Zion,” Arland added.
“We can fight! What have we been training for, if not to rescue one of our own?” Mercy looked at each of them pointedly. “We have the skill.”
“There is more than skill needed in war, Sweet Girl.” Her dad’s pet name jolted her out of her rush of emotion. “Once you take a life, you can never return it.” Her father’s intense gaze bored into hers. “You will forever see their faces, carry the burden of knowing that their life ended because of you, and you will constantly question yourself as to the necessity of what you have done.”
Mercy held his gaze, letting his words penetrate the shield of anger she wielded. She knew the pain of killing, though animals were not the same as human life. She could imagine the sadness she felt in taking a deer would magnify exponentially when taking a person’s. Killing a deer meant her family survived. That’s why she did it.
“If I have to take a life so my family can survive, so be it,” she said, turning to walk out of the Hub, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Before she stepped through the door, she turned one last time, pleading with them. “Orion is my family. He is worth that burden.”
“We will consider your words and find a solution that is best for everyone,” Tyler said, his eyes imploring her to wait for their decision.
She nodded, hopeful she could move at least one of them enough to consider a rescue.
She didn’t wait, though. During that day’s training, she outwardly spoke of the fact that Orion had put himself in harm’s way to keep Zion safe, and their leaders would not hear her pleas to rescue him, to beat back the intruders. Instead, they asked her to wait. If, or she should say when, her father found out, she would work the latrines for an entire season. She didn’t care. Her insides twisted, knowing that Orion was being hurt. She didn’t know how she knew, but he was, and he cried out for her help.
After training, Owen came up to her, shifting his weight. “If I,” he cleared his throat, “if I had seen him, I would have stopped him. I wouldn’t have let him try to face them alone.”
Mercy dropped her hand on his shoulder and gave him a nod. Darius glared at her from afar, and as she passed him on her way toward her dwelling, he hissed, “You don’t deserve to be a Chantry.”
Her steps didn’t falter, but the blow struck her like an arrow in her back, sharp and fiery. Resolve filled her, pushing back the hurt. It didn’t matter if they wouldn’t help her, she would save Orion herself.
That night, as soon as Tucker’s breathing showed he slept deeply, she slipped out of the tent, her bag already packed, her quiver filled with every arrow she owned, real and blunted, and she escaped into the night. She had thought about sneaking out through the waterfall but feared she would slip on the wet rocks in the dark. There was no choice but to try her luck at sneaking out the way Orion had.
Her dad had switched up the guard, taking Owen off the night watch and putting Tyler on duty at the point and Ethan in the passageway. Stopping in the shadow of Arland’s dwelling, the last one before the entrance, she watched Tyler stretch and move toward the fire. It would blind his sight with the fire between him and her, and she took this advantage to sprint silently to the passageway.
The night sounds slowly replaced the rushing of her own heartbeat as she listened for Ethan’s movements. A soft scratch of a moccasin on dirt carried from further inside the passageway. He would meet her head on in the middle where the rocks squeezed tight, where Orion had busted Darius’s nose.
Ethan’s kind eyes pushed into her memory. She didn’t want to hurt him. Best to go up and around. The night held a tension, a feeling of providence, and a wave of goosebumps traveled across her skin. She tucked a stray wisp of hair back into the cover of her hood and eyed her ascent by moonlight.
She counted the steps, knowing that the only thing that would keep her from being caught was speed. She sucked in a breath, and without further procrastination, she lightly bounced from boulder to boulder until she squatted on the top of the jumbled rock. Wishing she had Orion’s skills, she made her way across the boulder field as nimbly as possible, keeping to the shadows and tight against the cliff.
The going was slower than she would have liked, with darkness obscuring where she could safely land. How had Orion done this so quickly? Finally, she made it to the edge, out of sight of the point, and safe from detection.
Just as she breathed out a sigh of relief, a voice broke her reprieve.
“You looked amazing up on those rocks,” Ethan said.
“How...How did you…” Mercy sputtered, disbelief and horror filling her.
“We know you better than you think.” Ethan shrugged, an amiable smile on his lips.
“We?”
“Yeah. Tucker and the others will be along shortly.” Ethan glanced back toward the entrance.
“Ethan, you’ve got to listen to me,” Mercy pleaded.
He held up a hand. “We have listened, and we are responding.”
“But…” Mercy glanced at the quivering shadows spilling forth from the entrance, then longingly toward the way Orion had traveled. “You really think that highly of me that you need all those people to keep me from doing what is right?”
Ethan cocked his head, studying her, his eyes dark shadows in the moonlight. “I have learned a long time ago not to stand in your way when you have set your mind to something.” He took a step forward, lowering his voice. “This time is no different.”
Mercy’s head spun. She glanced from the group slowly approaching and back to Ethan. “Wait...you’re not stopping me?”
“No. We are joining you.”
Relief sent Mercy squeezing Ethan in a hug. She stepped back, her hands still on his arms. “Thank you.”
Even in the moonlight, she could see the flush on Ethan’s cheeks, but elation made her not pay attention. Instead, she turned to greet her brother, whose sheepish grin melted her heart.
“You did this?” She brought him into her arms.
“No.” He stood back and looked deep into her eyes. “You did. I just told them when.”
“How did you…” She glanced at Ethan then back to him. “Never mind. Thank you.”
She scanned the group, seeing Ryan, Owen, Mason, and four others. There were ten plus her, a good number. “This mission is not a drill. The weapons will be real. If caught,” she swallowed, “it could mean the end for us.”
They nodded solemnly, holding her gaze when she met their eyes. “We are rescuing one of our own. He may have been raised elsewhere, but Orion is Butler’s son and deserves to be free of the coalition.”
“Which is why I am joining you,” Butler’s voice, heavy with worry, came from the forest as he joined them.
Mercy nodded. She wouldn’t expect less from the man she called Uncle. “We don’t know how many we are up against. We do
n’t even know what types of weapons they will have, but we are skilled fighters. We have been training our entire lives for this.” She raised her arm. “Faith. Honor. Hope.”
They whisper-yelled alongside her, “Faith. Honor. Hope.”
“For Zion!” she cheered quietly and took off at a jog.
An hour in, she scaled a hill, the others following her to the rise. “Water break,” she said, then turned to scan the land before them. Finding a campfire this far away would be difficult, it would be easier to see the smoke during daylight. “Tucker,” she called.
He was by her side in an instant. “You’re a natural.”
She spun to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You lead as if you have always led.”
She rolled her eyes and looked back out in the distance to where she thought she saw a glow. Pointing, she asked, “Could that be a fire?”
Tucker squinted into the distance and shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to tell at this distance, Little Sis.”
She nodded and pulled out her own water, taking small sips to not unsettle her stomach. “Everyone good?”
Grunts of affirmation sent her on her way, following the rise and being led by her heart, that deep pulsing of a beat not her own.
Ethan jogged up alongside her after another mile or so. “How do you know which way to go?”
“I don’t know. I feel it deep inside, like I did the day I found him. Like he’s in my soul, reaching out, crying out for help,” Mercy said.
Ethan’s eyes clouded over, though his face remained expressionless. He gave her a curt nod. “Lead on then.”
She didn’t have the time or mental space to think about Ethan’s response. She had to focus on the pulsing within her, the call that would lead her to Orion, hopefully in time. Every once in a while, she would stop, pause to breathe, and reconnect before taking off again. She knew she pushed them at a grueling pace through the rest of the night and into the next day, but time ran short. The sun shone straight down upon them, well, as straight as it could get at the end of winter.
That’s when she smelled it.
A faint scent of a fire made her nostrils flair. She raised her hand, pausing everyone. Used to drills where silence was of the essence, each member trailing her quieted his breath. A gentle breeze blew her hood, tantalizing her senses with the smoke and a soft murmur of laughter.
She turned back to the group that watched her in expectation. “It’s not far now. We will go in silent, collect intel first. Watch for scouts. Remember, this is real. Once attacked, they won’t stop until they can no longer move.”
“Are you giving kill orders?” Ryan narrowed his eyes.
“Do you think they will just give up when we say, I hit you or I won?” Butler stepped beside Mercy. “This is a real life war. Fight like your life depends on it, because it does.”
Mercy saw several of the guys swallow and stiffen their stances. “My hope is we can subdue them with minimal force, but our lives come first. Orion says most of them don’t carry long distance weapons, though some might have crossbows.”
Mercy sucked in her cheeks. She did not know how to lead a battle. She glanced at Butler, then Tucker, but they both deferred to her. The pull from Orion burned inside of her chest.
“Watch for sentries. Protect each other’s backs—” Mercy froze as a distant scream sent a chill of fear running down her spine. “Look for my signals. We are silent from here on out.”
She took off at a run, slowing her pace as the sounds of camp reached them more clearly. Movement in the bushes to her right had her lowering into a squat. She looked back, ensuring everyone had followed suit. Through the bushes, a sentry fiddled with a knife, throwing it up, watching flip, and trying to catch it, mostly failing and stooping over to pick it up.
Her stomach twisted in knots. She didn’t want to kill men...even if they were bad. Were they bad? A strangled cry of pain from the direction of the camp hit her like a blow to her chest. There was no time.
Tucker met her eyes, motioned for her to breathe. The last thing she needed were the birds to give them away. She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. When she opened them, she was fully focused and ready.
She motioned for the others to wait while silently swinging wide around the guard and planning her course of action. She made it behind a tree only feet from the sentry, her heart rushing in her ears and stomach threatening to lose its contents.
She dare not look back at her brother or other companions. Instead, she focused on the wiry man whose potent smell didn’t help the nausea threatening. He flipped the knife up, went for the catch, swiping his hand out of the sharp blade’s path right at the last second.
When he bent over to retrieve the blade, Mercy sprang from behind the tree, jumping on the guard's back, she wrapped her legs around the man, one hand over his mouth and nose and one around his neck, hoping she made the right decision.
Killing an unknowing man did not sit right with her.
The man’s hands grabbed at her arms, doing his best to yank her off him, but she had been fighting guys twice as strong for her entire life. She knew the tricks to keep from being ripped off. Her arm around his neck tightened, and her hand on his mouth and nose felt less force of air. He scratched her forearms, leaving ripped flesh even through her cloak.
In a last effort, he rammed her into the tree trunk she had hid behind, knocking the breath from her lungs, but she did not let go. The man wavered under her weight and from lack of oxygen. She didn’t release her hold, not even a bit, but held all the tighter as he stumbled to his knees. Her feet hit the ground, but still she did not let go. Even after his head sagged against her arm, she waited a moment more, just in case.
Finally, gasping for breath, adrenaline pricking her chest, she laid him on the ground, his head lolling. With one hand, she checked his pulse while the other landed reassuringly on her knife. Still alive, but out cold.
A grim sense of satisfaction filled her as Tucker, crouching low, came beside her. “You could have just knocked him out,” he whispered.
Her face felt fiery hot as she glanced at the others, but their eyes did not hold judgement, only admiration. Ethan nodded with a look that seemed to say, told you I wouldn’t stand in your way. Ryan and Butler kept eyes on the camp.
Butler turned to her with a nod. No signs the enemy had heard them.
She glared at her brother before creeping toward the trees edging the clearing that housed the camp. Men sat around a fire, lounging and laughing as if the sounds of brute force coming from the tent sitting at the far end didn’t bother them a bit. The sounds sickened her as she fought through her rage.
Her vision clouded as she pushed down the urge to loosen all of her arrows on the men and rush into the tent to save Orion. She turned, leaning back against the tree, doing her best to breathe in calm and create a plan when her eyes met Tucker’s. The dream flashed through her then, leaving her breathless and gasping. Tucker’s brows creased, but his eyes showed understanding.
The dream she had right before she had found Orion had been a vision. Now she wished she would have finished the dream to know how it played out, what her next move should be. The knowledge that she should be right here, right now, eased the rage. They would do this.
We’re here, Orion. It’ll be over soon.
>>>—ORION—<<<
Orion didn’t even have the energy to brace for the next blow. The sick sound of knuckles meeting flesh preempted the pain that shortly followed. His eyesight blurred as he did his best to make the two swirling commanders into one again.
“This tactic isn’t working, Commander.” Mulroney’s voice was thick and spoken through gritted teeth. “Maybe we should try something different?”
“You’ve gone soft on the boy, haven’t you?” The Commander sneered. He shrugged, squatting on his haunches in front of Orion. “Not that I disagree. He’s uttered nothing except his whining to stop and take him to his Old Man.”
>
“It’s not a bad idea,” Mulroney reasoned. “Meyers always gets what he wants out of the boy.”
“Well,” the Commander’s voice took on a sickly sweet tone, “I don’t get my end of the bargain if I don’t have everything when I return.” He leaned forward and squeezed Orion’s battered cheeks in. “So, I need you to tell me everything. Where is the camp? Did you kill this guy, Chantry? Did they follow you?”
“I know the kid,” Mulroney said. “Give me a few moments alone with him. I’ll get him to talk.”
Orion spat out the blood that pooled in his mouth, except his swollen lips weren’t working, and he could feel the leftovers dribbling down his chin. It tickled the bruised flesh, but with his hands tied behind him, he couldn’t even wipe it from his face.
“I think not,” the Commander said.
Orion didn’t know the man’s name, didn’t need to. He had experience with men like this. There was no fixing someone so demented. They left a trail of pain and death behind them.
His mind whirled as he slowly fought against losing consciousness, living between worlds it seemed, because he swore he heard Mercy calling to him. Telling him to be strong. To hold on. He clung to the image of his red-headed, fiery angel, felt her hand soothing his battered skin, and dripping small sips of water into his mouth.
“Mercy,” his voice rasped.
“Oh, you’re asking for mercy now.” The Commander’s voice filled with satisfaction.
Orion pulled himself back to the present, opening his swollen eyes as wide as he could so he could see the man in front of him. The Commander’s grin didn’t reach his empty eyes, reminding him more of a predatory animal than a human.
The man glanced around the empty dwelling, then he grasped Orion’s broken nose and twisted it hard. Orion bit back the cry that tried to choke through his swollen throat.
“You see, boy, if I complete this mission to your Old Man’s satisfaction, I’ll get your lovely little sister.”
Orion jerked back. Shock like a fiery rod pierced him, deep and menacingly, bringing him fully into the moment.
