by Erica Rue
After a while, she heard his voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Who was he talking to? Had he found his father?
In another minute, Dione entered a small clearing. Dew glistened in the trees on the opposite side, illuminated by the moonlight. The sweet fragrance of some tropical flower hung heavily in the stagnant air. She could make out Brian on his knees in front of a rock, still talking. He was crying, too, and didn’t seem aware of her presence. The scene was eerie, and it made her pause long enough to hear what he was saying.
“I thought I’d never find you. You’ve been gone so long that I didn’t think you were even in there anymore.” With that, he hugged the rock, confirming Dione’s suspicions.
Brian was hallucinating. The moss’s venom must have been more than agonizing. It had shown her the sunset of her life, and it had caused Brian to see or hear something that had drawn him away from the shuttle into the jungle. Now he was lovingly embracing a rock that he thought was a person, his long-lost father from the sound of it.
She didn’t want to startle him into flight, so she approached slowly, pausing a few meters away until he caught sight of her. His eyes went wide with confusion, and he looked around.
“Where—? Dione? Where did she go?”
She? Who had Brian been talking to, if not his father? “Brian, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Dione took another step toward him, her arms outstretched. “You were hallucinating. You might still be seeing things.”
“No, she was here. Everything was fine. Until you showed up.” Brian abruptly got to his feet and backed away from her across the clearing. Behind him, dewy branches glowing in the moonlight began to move strangely in the breeze.
“Brian,” she began, turning her focus back to him. “Wait. Listen to me. The moss—” Dione glanced back to the trees. There was no breeze. They shouldn’t have been swaying like that. The higher branches were curling in.
“Drosera,” she whispered. A sundew. The recognition was immediate, though she had never seen, or imagined, one this huge before. The branches were wide and flat like tentacles, covered not in dew, but sticky balls of digestive enzymes, ready to trap and wrap their prey. The plant must have caught some bird or bat, and as Dione glanced back to Brian, she realized it was about to snag something much bigger. “Brian, don’t move.”
He ignored her and continued to back away. He was shouting at her, but she wasn’t listening. He was getting closer and closer to the trap the massive sundew had laid. She charged toward him, hoping she could catch him in time, but it was too late. He stepped on one of the tentacles, feet sticking enough to trip him. He landed right on another tentacle, and with a thick, wet smack, it curled around Brian’s torso, pinning his arms to his body in seconds.
“Argh! No! Let go!” Brian’s shouts did nothing to deter the organism. The Drosera could not be startled into dropping its prey like some creatures could. Its leaves curled in response to physical stimulus, and a plant, even a monstrous one like this, did not have free will.
Brian’s weight seemed to hinder the sundew’s motion, but it steadily rolled him inward, activating a third sticky tendril as his legs and feet dragged across them. With the added support, the terrible plant lifted Brian off the ground as its leaves curled inward.
Dione stopped her advance only long enough to draw her machete. There was no time to think. She maneuvered her way toward the base of the tentacle that had trapped Brian’s feet and began hacking. She had to time every movement perfectly in order to hit the moving target in the same place each time, but after a few thwacks, she severed the tentacle. Brian dipped half a meter lower toward the ground, the remaining tendrils struggling under his weight. One down, two to go.
But no, Brian’s change in altitude had dropped his neck right onto another small tendril. Dione wasn’t sure if it could crush his windpipe outright, but she was certain it would apply enough pressure to suffocate him. The shouting she had been ignoring turned to coughing and sputtering. She needed to be quick.
As she repositioned her body to get a better angle on the neck tentacle, she narrowly avoided stepping on one herself. The dodge sent her off-balance and she fell, the bulk of her body missing the tendril. However, her arm—the one wielding the machete—landed on something sticky.
Immediately, the tendril closed around her wrist. How is it so fast? She knew that the sundew was simply responding to stimuli, curling around whatever touched its sticky triggers, but she found herself imagining a dark, hungry intelligence at the center of the outstretched leaves. She fought the tendril, fought to keep her grip on her only weapon, but her wrist began to ache. She would not be able to pull it free. Fortunately with only one point of contact, the sundew was not strong enough to wrap her up like Brian.
Brian. He was running out of time. She had to free herself. Pulling against the sundew with all her might, she reached with her left arm and took the machete from her right.
Using her off hand was challenging. She couldn’t aim properly, and the harder she came down with the blade, the more difficult it was to line up her strike.
Many smaller blows eventually freed her good hand, though the tendril still stuck to it like a slimy bracelet. Her skin felt warm beneath it, and she realized with horror that it was probably the digestive enzyme in the goo getting to work.
There was no time to remove it, though, because Brian was still trapped. She switched the machete back to her dominant hand and cut the tentacle around Brian’s neck. She couldn’t tell if he was still breathing, so she hacked away at the two tentacles holding his body off the ground.
With a slash through the remaining tendrils and a quiet thump, Brian was back on the ground. Dione dragged him out of range of the giant sundew, careful not to trigger any more leaves.
He wasn’t moving. Please don’t be dead. Please. Another prayer to a deaf universe. She didn’t think she could bear it if he were dead. She tried to feel for a pulse, but her hands were shaking. Instead, she stared helplessly at his chest in the darkness, willing it to visibly rise and fall. She couldn’t tell. Tears welled up in her eyes. She cared about him more than she wanted to admit, and now that he was lying before her unconscious, she thought back to their last exchange. It had been awful. She couldn’t leave it like that.
At last, his chest rose with a deep, unmistakable breath, and she sighed in relief. She carefully removed the sticky leaves from his neck, torso, and legs. Once she removed the leaf from her own wrist, she could see, even in the moonlight, that her wrist was red. She quickly grabbed one of the blankets from her pack and wiped the abrasive goo from her wrist and Brian’s neck and legs.
His clothes were a mess. Brian’s shorts were fine, but his shirt was covered in Drosera slime. She lifted his shirt to check his abdomen, and sure enough, a light pink mark marred his chest where the sundew had gripped him.
Careful to keep the caustic slime contained, she clumsily cut off his shirt with her knife and tossed it aside. Once she had washed all affected areas, she covered Brian up with the second blanket.
Throughout her ministrations, he had stayed unconscious. Dione hoped it was just another side effect of the nematocyst poison, because she hated being out here alone.
Once the task was complete, she sat a moment and thought. They were too far from the shuttle to go back in the dark. She looked over at the monstrous sundew, its unharmed tendrils still glistening in the moonlight.
This might be the safest place for them tonight. The sundew had a good chance of catching anything that approached from that side, and if something did attack, she might be able to use the sundew just like she had used that angler worm to trap a Ven a couple of days ago. Of course, that was assuming whatever was coming didn’t kill them both in their sleep.
Her fears struggled to keep her awake, but they were no match for the post-adrenaline fatigue that weighed her down. If I’m going to die on this island, she thought drowsily, in my sleep might be the best way to go.
11. LITHIA
“She trusts you,” he replied, snapping her back into the conversation.
Lithia suppressed a snort. “Yeah, she shot me a few days ago because I lied to her. I don’t think trust is the right word.” She stepped out of the way as Theo led a pair of machi, creatures that looked like large tapirs, to the group of waiting riders, who wore loose white shirts and brown harem pants in typical Aratian style.
“Well, I do. She listens to you now. She looks up to you. You have to see that.”
Lithia’s playful smile slipped away. He was right. Ever since the battle—no, the Matching—Cora had looked at her with new eyes. “Even if you’re right, why should I help you? Cora doesn’t want to marry you.”
“I know. That’s not why I want your help. Cora just lost her father and Will. She needs a friend.”
“She’s got me.”
“And having another couldn’t hurt. You’re new here. You don’t know how isolated she was, growing up as the Regnator’s daughter.”
Lithia bit her lip. That almost reminded her of Dione, growing up as the child of a powerful man, protected to the point of isolation until StellAcademy. Cora didn’t have anything like that here. Maybe Jai had a point.
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“If she sees that you treat me as an equal, I think it would go a long way.”
That was easy enough. “You promise this isn’t some ploy to seduce her or something and become Regnator?”
Jai looked at her quizzically and laughed. “I promise. Cora’s not really my type.” He glanced past her, and Lithia heard someone coming.
She turned to see her cousin approaching. “We’re almost ready,” Cora said. “Theo is getting the last of the machi ready.”
Cora spoke as if Jai wasn’t there. She refused to acknowledge his existence with even a glance.
“Good,” Lithia replied. “I was just asking Jai if he had any ideas—” She broke off and looked up. Her ears were attuned to catch the hum of the Flyers, and for a moment, she was back at the Ficaran settlement, death and destruction creeping in on all sides. Suddenly the hum of the Flyer sounded more like screams and growls and gunshots.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Both her shoulders. “Lithia?” Jai gave her a little shake, and she snapped out of it. He and Cora were looking at her, brows furrowed in concern. That was one way to bring them together.
“Are you okay?” Cora asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out for a sec.”
Before Cora could ask her any more questions, Lithia’s manumed buzzed. It was Bel.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, eager for a distraction.
“Colm and I are here with a few other Ficarans. We want to help you find the Green Cloaks, and thought you might want some company, especially if you run into the Vens.”
“We’re at the gate,” Lithia said. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” Bel replied. “We already cleared it with Benjamin. See you in a few.”
Lithia turned to Cora, but she was already on it. “Theo,” she called, “prepare a few more machi. We’ve got more volunteers on the way.”
Benjamin appeared and beckoned to Cora. It seemed he wanted a few words with his niece before she left. She walked off, leaving Lithia and Jai alone again.
“I see what you mean,” Lithia said. “I’m sure she’ll come around eventually. Why do you care so much, anyway?”
“I know the whispers about the Vens,” he said, “and how some are saying the Farmer wasn’t really a god, but I was matched with Cora for a reason. If not to marry her, then to help her in some way. I can’t explain. It’s just this feeling I have.”
That sort of plea might not have swayed Dione, the queen of needing proof, but Jai’s intuition struck a chord with Lithia. She had felt almost the same thing last night before volunteering to join Cora. It was decided then. She would help him.
Dione kept popping up in Lithia’s thoughts. She saw her friend’s shadow in every situation. She was worried about her friend. Best friend. It had been a while since Lithia had sent her a simple, one-word message: Update?
Dione had not replied yet, but she would. That nerd had figured out how to save her from the angler worm without an instruction manual. She would be fine, even on a nightmare island.
Lithia’s thoughts were interrupted by soft chatter. The Ficarans had arrived. Colm’s bulky form dwarfed Bel’s thin frame as she walked closer. Bel’s long hair was pulled back into her typical braid, and something in her expression reminded Lithia of an ancient warrior goddess whose name she had forgotten, but that Dione would have remembered.
Colm headed straight for Benjamin and Cora. Lithia saw Bel scanning the area for her, so she waved her friend over.
“Have you met Jai?” she asked after they got the initial pleasantries out of the way.
“Not officially,” she replied. “I’m Bel.” She extended a hand, which he shook.
“He got matched with Cora,” Lithia explained.
“Oh,” Bel said. “Umm… it’s nice to meet you.”
Time to change the subject, Lithia thought. “What inspired you to join us?” she asked.
“The Vens are still out there, and I have a feeling we’ll cross their path,” Bel said. She held up a hand. “And before you ask, I’m good now. No more crazy risks.”
Lithia nodded. “Got it.” She’d heard about Bel’s refusal to leave the Ven ship while she was downloading the datacore. It had nearly cost Bel her life. Dione had been horrified, but Lithia? She understood. She finally got it. Something had happened during that final battle, and any hint of mercy she might have felt for the Vens had been snuffed out. No, replaced. Something inside her felt clenched and hot, and not even her flippant jokes could provide any relief. The only time she felt any reprieve was when she was focusing on something else, like helping Cora.
All three were silent for a moment, which allowed them to overhear the loud—and growing louder—conversation between Cora and Benjamin nearby.
“Now is not a good time for this,” Benjamin was saying. “People are uneasy, the Matching is on hold, and now the presence of Ficarans on your team? It’s unbecoming.”
“You approved it,” Cora said.
“Because I thought it would help keep you all safe! You can still step down and leave this expedition to Theo. People are whispering.”
“People will never stop whispering, uncle. Never. And I’m sick of this. The only way you can get me to stop is by forbidding me to go, as the Regnator.” Cora lowered her voice again, but Lithia was still close enough to hear. “And you won’t do that, because it weakens your position.”
“Cora, you can’t just do whatever you feel like. There are rules. Traditions.” Benjamin lowered his voice so that Lithia could barely hear him. “Our claim to rule is weak at the moment. You don’t understand—”
“I do understand your objections. I just don’t care. If our claim is weak, then maybe we should step aside.”
“So you want the chaos of a power vacuum? Have you forgotten your studies?”
“I want revenge. Nothing more, nothing less. Power, interregnum, the Matching, all of it is an indistinct blur. The only thing that looks clear when I imagine the future is this: hunting down the Green Cloaks and avenging my father. Saving our people from internal rot. That’s what a ruler does, right? Protects her people?” Lithia could see the fire in her cousin’s eyes.
Benjamin sighed. “Don’t let your anger consume you, child,” he said. “I can’t stop you. You’ve forced my hand. At least listen to Theo. Your father trusted him.”
Cora turned her back on her uncle and beckoned to Lithia, Jai, and Bel
. “Let’s join the others. I need to speak to everyone before we leave.”
Lithia smiled at Cora. The change in her cousin probably seemed incredible to some, but Lithia knew the truth. Cora the Leader had always been in there. She had looked up to her father’s example for years, and she had Miranda’s blood in her veins. She was strong and stubborn, just like Lithia. All she had needed was a catalyst, though Lithia would have preferred something other than the deaths of her father and boyfriend to spur her forward.
Cora mounted a beautiful, solid black maximute, a giant dog that the researchers had programmed to respond to musical commands. Theo was perched atop a brown one by her side. Theo’s men from the cavalry were also on maximutes. All the others, including Lithia and Bel, sat atop machi.
“We’re heading to Raynor Farm,” Cora said. “If the Green Cloak we recovered is telling the truth, that’s where the remains of their group are hiding. We should arrive tomorrow by late morning if we keep a good pace. You all volunteered, and if you’ve changed your mind since last night, I won’t hold it against you if you back out now. Our mission is dangerous.”
Cora paused, and Lithia glanced behind her. No one budged. The two young women who had seemed uncertain last night now looked resolved. One reached out and squeezed the other’s hand quickly before dropping it. Reassurance. The kind she had given Dione a number of times.
That sign of friendship stirred up the fear she felt for Dione in the back of her mind, but that fear was soon replaced with a sardonic smile. As worried as she was that her best friend had gone off into the jungle on nightmare island, she didn’t have room to talk. She had spontaneously joined this crusade, and as much as she told herself it was to earn enough clout to borrow the Aratian Flyer, she knew deep down that it was to satisfy her thirst for revenge. She hoped they would come across a few Vens she could kill with her borrowed pila blade. They were sharp, thin, and flexible. Perfect for slipping between Ven carapace plating.
“The outsiders Lithia and Bel have decided to help us, as well as Colm and a few Ficarans,” Cora said.
