by Moira Young
Her face scrinches in misery. Torn between duty an friendship. I cain’t tell you, she says. It’s only important to him, nobody else. I made a blood swear I’d never say.
Swearin in blood, that’s serious, I says. Must be pretty important.
Only to him, she says. Nobody else, honest.
I’ll be the judge of that, not you, I says. What was it? Tommo ain’t got nuthin of value.
Shows what you know, she says. Then she clamps her lips tight.
Now we’re gittin somewhere, I says. He’s had it hid away, huh? Somethin Ike gave to him?
I ain’t sayin no more, she says. I ain’t doin this to be contrary or vex you. I’m doin what’s right. Lugh’s told you his secrets yer whole lives an I’ll bet you never told one of ’em, not ever.
Where he hid Pa’s whisky, Pa’s gun, Pa’s knife. Lugh an me had a blood-sworn promise I’d never tell. Not even to spare him a beatin. So I never did tell. Not once.
If you make a promise, you gotta keep it, says Em. I learned that from you. You always keep yer promises, no matter what. An so do I. You can torture me if you like, I still won’t tell!
She pretends to lock her lips an toss away the key. I swear, the mulish defiance of her chin invites a swift kick to the seat of her britches. But she looks so tragic that my lips twitch as I slip Hermes’ bridle over his head. I could always ask Peg, I says.
Go ahead, waste yer time, she ain’t no blabber, says Em.
Don’t smart off with me, I says. I’m outta time fer this, Em. You gimme yer word—yer sworn word it ain’t important—an we’ll call it quits. Jest this once, mind. All else, you gotta tell me.
She dumps Nero an scrambles down the junkheap. You got my sworn word, she says. She holds out her hand an we shake.
I hang on to it. We gotta be able to count on you, Emmi, I says. Know that you won’t let us down. That means you follow orders at all times. When the day comes that you’ve earned our trust, that’s when you’ll have some leeway. Till then, you do as yer told, no questions, no fuss.
I’m sorry, she says. I should of gone back on watch when you said. I was jest so happy to see everybody back okay, but I know I acted like a little kid an I ain’t that no more. I’ll do better, I promise.
Yer a warrior now, a Free Hawk, I says. You got comrades who died becuz they believed that all people should live free. You an me an Lugh, we know what it means to lose our freedom. An you bin prisoner not jest once but twice. When they caught you an took you to Resurrection.
She meets my gaze, steady on. They kept me in chains, she says. Like they kept you in chains at Hopetown.
You acted the warrior then, I says. Yer my sister, Em. That means you got courage to spare. Yer strong an yer smart. We’re gonna win this fight. We’re gonna honour them that died fer freedom. Our pa fer one. Who else?
Maev an Epona, she says. Ike an Bram an Jack. All the Free Hawks an Raiders at Darktrees.
Well, you jest think of them—our friends an Pa, I says. An you’ll know how to rightly conduct yerself.
I will, she says.
Y’know, you an me, we’re a lot alike.
She blinks in surprise. We are? How?
We act first an think later, I says. But if we’re gonna win here, if we got any chance, we gotta think first an then act. So. From now on, you an me keep cool heads, okay? Can you do that? Can I do that?
Yes, she says. We can. An we will. An I’ll never let you down agin, never. She throws her arms around my waist. I love you best of all, Saba.
It always takes me by surprise. This hot, fierce love that rushes through me. Fer the sister I shunned so long. Denied to my blood so completely. I kiss the top of her head. Happy birthday, I says. Go have a dance.
She scoops up Nero but she don’t go. While I make a last check of Hermes, she’s givin it the old Lingery Lou. Some pretend fuss with her belt an general slormin around. She’s clearly wantin to say somethin. Back at the party, Peg’s playin Halleluja, I’m a Bum as everybody sings along. Slim’s raucous bellow drowns out the rest.
Yer missin the fun, I says to Em. I’m pullin on my metal clad jerkin. I fasten its buckles snugly.
She says, I guess Auriel’s probly on her way to the Big Water, huh? Her an Meg an Lilith an … all them people that fled New Eden?
Now I do the armbands. Three small buckles on each one. It’s gittin late in the year, I says. They’d hafta git through the mountains before winter an it ’ud be a big caravan. I figger they’ll stay at the Snake till spring. How come Auriel’s on yer mind?
Oh, no reason. Emmi shrugs. Jest … y’know, I liked her.
She’s bein cagey agin. Uh huh, I says. I’ll see you in the mornin. Keep Nero close. Don’t let him outta yer sight. I swing myself onto Hermes.
Em grabs the bridle an blurts out, How I found him—Nero, I mean—I warn’t bein airy fairy, it was … the earth told me. She whispers the last few words, lookin at me with big owl eyes. Then she bolts. With Nero clutched to her chest, she runs back inside the shed.
I stare after her. Em’s inclined to be fey. Airy. A dreamer with her head in the clouds. Always feelin this an feelin that. What Lugh calls her mystical baloney. Sometimes it’s rubbish. Sometimes it ain’t. It’s as like to be one as the other. What that was about, I got no idea.
I click to Hermes an we’re on our way. We leave the lights an warmth an good cheer. We leave Starlight Lanes as the cold night rises an I set a course fer Weepin Water. The lodestone of New Eden. The bunker in the hill. The room with white walls where DeMalo sees visions at sunrise.
I still couldn’t say why I’m so certain we need to go there. But I am. I’m most certainly certain. Maybe I’m a bit airy myself.
He’d just lifted the bridle when a shadow fell over the stall. He dropped it back on the nail, careful not to clink the metal. He opened the gate and stepped into the yard, flooded by moonlight. It was Molly.
Oh! Her hand flew to her throat. You made me jump, she said. What’re you doin?
Checkin on the horses, he said.
She went to Prue’s stall to stroke her nose. No Hermes, I see, she said. I guess Saba’s gone to meet her contact agin.
He bit off his frustration. Seems so, he said. Go, he thought. Please, Molly, go.
But Molly was in no hurry. Fussing Prue’s ears, stroking her neck, she took in his coat with a quizzical look. Cooled down already? she said.
He had no hope of catching up with Saba now. He’d left it too late. Another chance blown. He shrugged off his coat and draped it around Molly’s shoulders. Don’t catch a chill, he said.
So gallant, she said with a smile. She smelled of warm summer roses. And, just like that, he was trembling. She always had that effect on him. Her smile, her smell, her beauty.
In a hot rush, he had her in his arms, pressed to the stable wall. And they were kissing. Touching. Hungrily. Breathlessly.
She pulled away. Put her fingers to his lips. Somebody might see us, she said. She was trembling now too. Oh gawd, she said, what you do to me. Every time. It ain’t seemly.
You taught me, he said.
A frown creased her forehead. I shouldn’t of, she said. We should never of started this. I never meant to, really, I didn’t.
I know, he said. I’m a boy, we ain’t in love, you still love Ike.
I want you to have what I had with him, she said.
Her breath brushed him sweetly. One of these days I will, he said. So I need to know how to please a woman. Yer teachin me. That’s all this is.
They stared at each other for a moment. A smile began to curve her lips. Lesson time, she said.
Then she took his hand in hers. And she led him away to the woods.
NIGHT SIX
ME AN HERMES COME AT THE BUNKER FROM THE NORTH. I ain’t familiar with this approach, so despite I’m on the lookout fer it, we come upon it sudden. So sudden that the shock hits me in the gut. We’re on top of a low ridge among some trees.
Here it is. The little
hill. In the middle of the sweetgrass meadow. It looks a hill like any other. You’d never think it held such a secret at its heart. The Wrecker bunker, deep within. The white room where DeMalo shares his visions of a long-fergot, long-lost world. The visions that I was witness to.
An here I am agin. I swing myself down from Hermes an look out over the meadow. Where he kissed me in a sudden summer rain. Where we ran through the grass, with my hand in his. Through the rain, through the woods, to his bed by Weepin Water. Where I gave myself to him. Took him fer my first. Where I lost myself in him an nearly didn’t come back.
The hilltop’s bin cleared of blackberry bramble. Gone, the rich fruit that smothered its slopes, that sweetened that hot summer day. The meadow’s bin cut. The ground’s hard with stubble, silvered an shaded by the moon. Shootin stars dash the night sky.
A nightpip kriks, quick an scratchy. Then it calls agin. Then, Saba! Over here!
I jump at the urgent whisper. It’s Jack. He’s crouched behind a bush not twenny foot away. He waves me to him, impatient. My cheeks burn as I make my way to him. Like he might of overheard my thoughts. The heartstone’s warm. I didn’t notice.
I leave Hermes in the trees with Jack’s pony, Kell. He yanks me down beside him. What’s with you? he hisses furiously. Yer stood there like a stooky an I’m pippin my damn head off. Shh! Guards comin.
As he speaks, two Tonton grunts lead their horses around the hill, one from each direction. They meet at the bunker entrance. A sturdy metal door set into the side of the hill, partly hid by a stray tangle of bramble. They take up position in front of it. They’re armed to the teeth an then some.
I says, Tell me you brought yer Tonton gear.
Jack gives me the look. Did-I-jest-hear-you-right? You told me, he says, you never wanted to see me wear that agin.
Typical, I says. You never do what I tell you. The one time you shouldn’t do what I tell you, you go an do what I tell you. Dammit, now you even got me talkin like you. Gimme that thing.
I snatch his long-looker from him.
So … I’ll dress Tonton next time. Or not. He shakes his head, bemused. By the way, he says, I like the fightgear. It’s very, uh … it’s very.
I squint, tunin the looker. Oh yeah, I fergot, I says. You got a weakness fer violent women.
Only one, he says. I’m most particular.
The guards come into clear view in the looker. Hello, boys, I says.
They’re too shadowed by the hill fer me to see their faces, but they’re stickin close to each other, almost shoulder to shoulder. Rattled by the fallin stars, judgin by how often they look at the sky. Maybe keepin count of the unquiet souls on the move, like Pa used to do with us. Their horses sense their mood an shift in restless unease.
Tell you what, says Jack. Middle of nowhere, middle of the night, two guards with full hardware … DeMalo’s got somethin in there he wants to keep safe. Well, there’s only one way in an only one way to git in. He picks up his bow from the ground beside him. I’ll take out the guy on the right, he says. You bag Lefty. I’ll count three.
Wait, I says. A bird, starkly black, crosses the white face of the moon. It sails towards us. Nero, I says.
My gut tightens with irritation. Emmi. She’s done it agin. She cannot be depended on. So much fer all her big promises.
Nero seizes the chance to buzz the guards. He knows an hates the blackcloaks. He drops silent from the night, straight at their heads. They cower with cries of alarm. As he swoops off, they huddle aginst the bunker door.
Guess they ain’t animal lovers, says Jack.
They’re afeared of him, I says.
Nero lands in a tree behind us. He drops on Jack’s shoulder an beaks my head.
Hey! I jerk away. Okay, I’m sorry.
What’s got him miffed? says Jack.
I’ll tell you later, I says. I lift the looker agin. As I watch, one of the guards steps from the safety of the doorway. He checks the sky, firestick at the ready, probly to see if Nero’s still about. I study his face, lit by the moon. He’s young. An he’s fearful. He says somethin to his mate. They’re both well jittery.
Let’s git on with this. Jack’s loadin his bow.
No, I says. We don’t need to shoot ’em.
An jest how do you think we’ll git in there? he says. Ask ’em nicely? Look at ’em, Saba, they’re trigger happy.
No, you look. I shove the looker into his hands. They’re afeared, Jack, I says. You can see it. They don’t wanna be here. They don’t like the starfall, they’re spooked by the crow, they’re out here alone an they’re young an green.
I see what you mean, he says. Maybe they heard the stories goin round about you. The fearsome Angel of Death an her miraculous escape from Resurrection. She killed ten men, twenny—no—thirty. It’s all bin hushed up an she’s still in New Eden. No, I heard she died in a blaze of fire. I met this guy, he seen her ghost with his own eyes. Ridin the night with her wolfdog an her crow, seekin vengeance on them that took her life.
It’s you that’s bin plantin them rumours, I says. I should of known.
I only fed what was already there, he says. Word spreads like wildfire in this place. The Angel of Death has a strong hold on people’s minds. The unbeaten fighter who killed a king an destroyed his kingdom. Powerful stuff. We gotta use every advantage we have.
Jack? I says. I feel a haunt comin on me.
It’s a waste of time, he says. If you don’t wanna kill ’em, I will.
No. We’re doin this my way, I says.
They’re in such a high state of nerves already. So close to real terror it seems cruel to push ’em over the edge. I feel kinda sorry fer ’em. I feel kinda bad about doin it. But not so bad that I don’t.
Jack sets the guards up. Unner strong protest, but he does it. Startin with wolf howls that—to my ear—barely pass muster, but they shake the guards pretty bad. As he does the wolf thing, he moves in closer, chuckin stones to rustle trees an bushes all around ’em. They’re panicked to such a frenzy of gunfire, it’s a wonder he don’t git shot. But he keeps his head down an stays on the move. Meantime, me an Nero an Hermes make our way behind the hill an sneak into a good position right on top.
We don’t have long to wait. Nature piles in on our side. She picks three of the brightest stars from the sky, loads ’em on her bow an lets fly. All three at once, side by side. In a show of unspeakable wonder, they scorch through the night like three small suns, their tails burnin fury behind them. The sky lights bright with their flash of fire.
Now. Go now. I throw Nero in the air. I haul the reins sharply. Hermes rears an squeals with his front legs flailin. Nero screams as he wheels above us.
It’s the Angel of Death. Back from the dead. Flung from the sky as a fiery star.
The guards stare, mouths open, frozen with fear. Then their guns hit the ground as they rush fer their horses. They stumble an trip an yell. In a panicky scramble, they race off pell-mell. The drum of their hoof beats fades to silence. An that’s it. They’re gone. We dared an we won.
Jack took a shot through the seat of his pants. He tells me next time I hold a target shoot he ain’t available. Then he picks the padlock an we go through the door in the hill.
I let Jack find DeMalo’s white room. I let him lead the way, with his rushtorch held high. After all, I’m s’posed to of never bin here before. I follow him down the steps, into the ground, through the long, narrow rooms with the bunks set into the walls. Each room leads on to the next one. Our torches splash shocks of orange light over the rough, packed-earth walls, roof an floor.
It smells jest the same as it did that summer day. Musty an earthy an cool. It feels jest the same as it did that day. Heavy aginst my skin. I hate unnerground. My brow wets with sweat. An I’m back in our Silverlake storm cellar.
That eight by eight hole in the ground hacked out by my folks with pick an shovel. Their first home when they settled at the lake. Where they lived while they built the tyreshack. Then it was o
ur shelter from wild weather. Bad enough we had to fret out the storms in there. But on scorch days too—when the sun flays the earth an all that cling to her—that cellar was our only refuge. It never bothered Pa or Lugh or Em. But it surely did bother me. I felt I was buried alive. I take a deep breath. I ain’t buried. I’m fine.
This was a Wrecker bunker, says Jack. I seen somethin kinda like it before. It was a lot smaller’n this one, though.
I cain’t tell him what I know about it. That DeMalo found ten skellentons here when he discovered it an opened the door. Lyin on the bunks where they died. Probly shelterin from some calamity. One of the many that ravaged their world. If it was anybody else, you’d pity ’em their plight. Not the Wreckers. No pity fer them.
Jack says, We must be near the centre of the hill by now.
We are. We’re in the tight little corridor. It squeezes us towards the white room. We’re at the closed door. Jack opens it with caution an peers inside.
He says, Nuthin beyond here. You think this is it?
Must be, I says.
We’re talkin in whispers. Like there’s somebody here besides us. An there is. DeMalo. This is his special place. I got this crazy notion he’ll be able to tell that we was here. Maybe right now, this moment, wherever he is, he knows that I’m in his vision room. It’s foolish, I know. Impossible, how could he? But still. My heart’s thumpin hard.
Well, yer the one with the feelin, says Jack. After you. He bows me through the doorway.
I step inside. Close it behind you, I says.
The darkness here is deep. Our torches dash at the shadows an retreat as we play ’em around the room. It’s completely different from the rest of the bunker. Smooth white walls with rounded corners. Twenny paces across each way. A smooth white floor with a domed ceilin. It seems much bigger’n the last time I was here. Mind you, as well as DeMalo an me, there was a dozen Stewards an two Tonton guards in here.
