“It’s anything but beautiful.” Dayne’s tone breaks the spell, and I turn to look at him.
“How could you say that?” I ask.
“Listen here.” He points a gloved finger at me. “This place is evil. Don’t touch anything. Try not to even look at anything for too long.”
“I think you might be getting paranoid in your old age,” I try to tease.
Dayne doesn’t show even the hint of a smile.
“I take it you’ve been here before?” Ry asks, hearing our conversation.
“A long time ago,” Dayne says without elaborating.
To the rest of the company, he says, “Stop gawking. We’ve still got a ways to go.”
Dayne doesn’t look north toward Tanguro, though. His eyes are fixed on my hand. His frown deepens.
Dayne glares at me before turning back to the expectant company. “From here on out it will be more dangerous.” He pauses. “Tanguro is wilder than any place you can imagine. Everything here is made to thrive in the sunlight and is more powerful for it.”
We look down at the sprawling, tangled colors before us.
Dayne squints his eyes against the brightness below. “Halves are not all we have to worry about in this territory.”
The slope down the mountain is less treacherous than the incline. But the moment we begin our descent, the temperature rises. Impossibly, the sun is even hotter and brighter here. I glance at the others, who labor under their heavy cloaks. Heat presses against us from all sides. The air shimmers from it.
There is so much to see my eyes don’t know where to turn. Sparkling silver birds with eight wings perch in copper-colored trees. Fish that have a different color for each scale on their bodies swim in purple-tinged pools nestled into the mountainside. The fish leap five or more paces into the air to clamp their jaws over the birds on which they prey. When I shut my eyes against the brightness of it all, colored spots dance across my vision.
I see now what Dayne meant. Everything here is more intense, fiercer—from the magenta script trees to the two-headed lizards that hiss and bare their inches-long fangs as we pass.
“We no longer have any choice of avoiding the North Road.” Dayne breaks into our silent awe. “It will be used by Halves, but the alternative would mean facing a forest more perilous than any you have ever encountered. Everything, from the flowers to the creatures, has a taste for flesh.”
But not even Dayne’s gloomy words can keep energy from surging through me. We’re almost there. I’m coming, Brice.
The forest is more brilliantly colored than anything I could have imagined. Still, there is something sinister about this place. Bright eyes gleam at us from holes in tree trunks. Strange, unfamiliar sounds surround us. Even the branches and shrubs rustle at our passing as though resentful of the interruption caused by our presence.
I take the map out of my pack. The thick stripe of the North Road cuts through the forest in a straight path from the mountains to Tanguro. Every detail on this map, from the angles of the mountain’s peak to the bend in the river, is perfect.
For the hundredth time, I wonder how Brice came by this map, and why. Even as a scout, he never travelled far enough to know these lands in detail. There must be an easy explanation for how it wound up in his possession, but still, the feeling that something about it all is not quite right continues to nag at me.
We stop just shy of the North Road to make camp for the high day. There are no caves on the map, but the tree branches overhead are lush and tangled enough that no sunlight passes through. Even so, the heat is almost unbearable.
“There will be no stopping once we step onto the road,” Dayne says as he sharpens his axe blade against a stone. “It will be a hard march.” He seems to be the only one with energy to spare in this heat.
I rest my hand against the trunk of a purple-leafed tree. At my touch, a vine wrapped around the trunk begins to quiver. I stare, transfixed, as brilliant yellow flowers unfurl before my eyes. They waft an inviting scent.
Dayne’s warning echoes through my head, but almost against my will, I move closer. They’re just flowers, what danger could they be to me?
I breathe deeply. A lazy sort of stillness comes over me. My feet feel leaden. Transfixed, I watch as the petals peel away to reveal a dozen or more sharp fangs, each as long as my index finger.
Flowers don’t have fangs, I think.
And then the leaves leap toward me. Snapping, biting, tearing. Their fangs click together as they search out its prey. I have only an instant to realize that prey is me before the flowers’ teeth sink into my shoulder.
I cry out and try to tear at the vine.
Angry hisses come from the plant, and I have just an instant to wonder whether I’m losing my mind before the vine slaps a violet hand-shaped leaf over my mouth, cutting off my shout.
But then that intoxicating scent returns, and I’m calm again. I don’t want to move away from this place. Not even when more of the flowers are on my neck, clicking their fangs together. A floral tongue darts out, and I could swear I hear the flowers repeating the word tasty.
The next thing I know, Dayne is beside me, hacking at the vine with his axe. When the vine recoils, still snapping its teeth, we’re both dripping with blood. The petals make a slurping noise as they close back up and the shredded vine settles back against the tree.
“What was that?” I gasp, squeezing my right hand over the torn flesh on my shoulder.
“It’s called a Love Bite,” Dayne replies.
“It’s a what?”
“Try not to touch anything else,” Dayne says, inspecting the wounds in my arm that are already beginning to heal.
I take the first watch, since I know I’ll never be able to sleep. This place is too strange, and I’m too close to Brice.
“How’s your mark healing?” Wade joins me as I stand surveying the land.
I look at the back of my right hand. It’s been less than a day, but all the pain has disappeared. There’s not even a scratch left from the dagger’s blade. All that remains are the intricate swirling rays of the sun.
Just the sight of it makes me feel strong.
“You are really something,” Wade says, looking straight at me.
✽✽✽
I dream I’m back in the cave behind the waterfall with Brice.
“I love you, Hemera,” he whispers. His body is molded around me, and his heart beats against my chest.
Brice’s lips meet mine. A shiver runs through me as he runs a hand down my back. I breathe in the woods and mist from the waterfall. Brice’s scent.
I open my eyes. Desperately, I stretch my mind to hold onto the memory of Brice’s face and the feeling of his touch. Too soon, his face is swallowed up by the eerie lights of the Tanguro forest. But I haven’t lost the feeling of Brice’s hand in mine. It’s warm and strong and fits my hand perfectly.
As I awaken, it's clear it is not the phantom of Brice’s touch, but someone’s actual hand I’m holding. I follow the arm linked to mine to Wade’s familiar outline.
I wrench my hand back as I scramble into a sitting position. To my relief, Wade’s chest continues to rise and fall in sleep. I must have reached out to him as I dreamed about Brice.
“You okay, Hemera?” Wade mumbles.
“Fine, go back to sleep,” I whisper as I reposition myself farther away from Wade and wait for my heartbeat to settle.
✽✽✽
The sunlight is different here. Its brilliant orange, red, and pink rays blaze with an intensity the likes of which I’ve never felt. Many of the soldiers are getting Burn blisters even beneath their cloaks. I feel the blazing heat, but even though I wear nothing over my blue silk cloak, no blisters appear.
Dayne’s mouth is set in a deep frown as we walk. He hasn’t said a word since we broke camp.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Scouts left hours ago,” Dayne mutters, almost to himself. “They should have been back by now.”
&
nbsp; “We’ll bump into them once we’re out on the main road,” I try to reassure him.
I can’t be worried when we are so close to Brice and the other prisoners. Every step brings us nearer.
We hack our way through a tangled mess of trees that shift their branches to block our path. It takes hours to cut away enough leaves to pass through. When we do, we stumble onto the North Road.
We all draw our weapons, ready for an attack. But the road is empty as far as the eye can see. Everything is quiet.
We have walked for almost an hour when a solitary figure appears in the distance. I grip my sling, ready for Dayne’s signal.
“Scout,” Ry says, lowering her bow. “Hold your fire.”
As the scout comes into full view, it’s obvious something is wrong. He’s moving too slowly and seems to be dragging one of his legs. Dayne runs forward and catches the man in his arms as he collapses. His cloak is covered in blood.
“Halves,” the scout manages to gasp.
The man tries to speak again, but only manages a gurgling sound. Blood spurts from a wound in his neck. Dayne presses his fingers over the wound, and his hand is instantly covered with blood.
After a few moments, the gurgling sound stops. Dayne takes his fingers off the scout’s neck and lays him down on the road. A cloud of dust rises from the North. The ground vibrates.
The Halves are coming.
CHAPTER 33
There must be more than a hundred of them. They move fast and are soon in full view.
“They’re coming for us.” Dayne grips his axe in both hands.
Without waiting for a command, I take down two with my sling as the others draw their swords. The beasts are on us in seconds.
I draw both of my daggers and slash at the Halves’ legs and stomachs. These Halves are different from the others I’ve fought. They’re taller, wider, and their hides are thicker. They carry stone clubs instead of wooden ones. They know how to fight. The beasts duck away and use their clubs to block our swords.
A scream, Ry’s, makes me turn away from the Halve I’m fighting. Two Halves are closing in on her. Her sword is on the ground. I clutch the hilt of my dagger and throw it.
One of the Halves falls. I put a stone in my sling and wind the ropes to bring down the other. I take a step forward but am blocked by a Halve standing in my way.
I meet the Halve’s black eyes. The coppery scent of blood fills my nostrils. The Halve wraps one of its scaly arms around me and lets out an earsplitting roar.
Blinding anger fills my insides. These beasts have taken everything from me.
I elbow the Halve’s sunken chest. The Halve stumbles backward, falling onto the ground. I dart away from its flailing legs.
Leaping into the air, I throw my arms around a Halve that holds a club in each of its deformed hands. With an almost feral shout, I yank the beast back, away from the others.
There’s no time for me to move before it collapses on top of me. I’m caught underneath the beast’s swollen midsection.
I have barely managed to shove the body away before five Halves surround me. I’m dizzy with the scent of their rotting flesh as they close the gap between us. I fight off two of them, but four more take their place. There are too many of them for us to defeat.
Despair starts to close in on me, but then I remember the Solguard tattoo now emblazoned on my hand. The others aren’t going to stop fighting, and neither will I. My fury at the Halves overcomes my fear. I fight for all I’m worth.
It takes seven Halves to drag me across the road as I continue to kick and claw at their thick hides.
The Halves throw me forward onto the ground. I leap to my feet, but I’m surrounded. Other Solguards are pushed into the space beside me. None of us have weapons.
I feel arms around me, but this time, they’re human.
“You’re alright, you’re alright!” Dayne’s voice is raspy from the heat.
Wade appears beside me. He grasps my arms in a vicelike grip as though to reassure himself I’m really there. Ry stumbles toward us. There are festering welts across her cheek bone.
“Halve blood!” she gasps as she reaches a hand to me.
Ry screams as I press my palms over her skin to absorb the searing poison into my own hands. A hissing sound erupts from the place where my hands meet her skin.
The red spots on Ry’s cheek are the only evidence of the sores that had been there moments before. My palms are covered with deep welts that are already beginning to heal. Ry throws her arms around me.
There isn’t time to marvel over what I have just done.
Two other Solguards were touched by the Halve blood, and I heal them, too. Dayne stays beside me like he’s afraid I might disappear in the sea of Halves surrounding us. When there are no others to heal, Dayne turns his attention to the anxious faces waiting for his orders.
“Not much to be done now, I’m afraid,” he says. “My guess is they’ll march us to Tanguro to join the other prisoners. Best not to aggravate them just yet. For now, focus on staying alive.”
A question echoes in my mind that I don’t dare ask out loud. Why haven’t the Halves killed us already?
The Halves move forward without warning. One-by-one, they each grab a soldier by his wrists and drag him away. Four Halves take hold of me. There is one on each arm, one in front, and the other behind. Together, they drag me out of the circle. Despite Dayne’s warning, I twist away from their repulsive touch.
“Get away from me,” I snarl.
The moment they sense my resistance, the Halves throw me to the ground. The wind is knocked out of me by the force of the fall. I lie gasping for air until the Halves lift me up again.
Hatred simmers deep in my bones. I’ll kill each and every one of you, I vow.
Once every member of our company is in the grips of his captors, we’re forced to march northward.
✽✽✽
The Halves move quickly. Whenever my pace lags, they drag me forward by my wrists. Their weight on my arms is more painful than the effort of jogging between them, so I push myself on.
Lowest day passes. The sun climbs. The weightless silk of the cloak Wokee made for me invites what little breeze there is to cool my skin, but the others don’t have this luxury. Every time I try to turn to see how the others are faring, the Halves shove me forward.
I’ll kill each and every one of you. The promise is my only comfort as we’re pushed, dragged, and yanked forward long after our strength has dissolved.
It is not until the Halves slow our pace that I’m able to look down to see the mud that has been making my steps even heavier. Through my exhausted haze, my brain makes the connection. Water.
As soon as the Halves release me, I drag my aching body to the streambed. I plunge my entire face into the cool, clear water. The sounds of tramping feet and ragged breaths vanish as I submerge my head.
After we have drunk from the stream and refilled our waterskins, the Halves push us off the road and under a thick canopy of blue trees. The branches are so dense no sunlight reaches the ground. The Halves make a tight ring around us as everyone peels off their sweat-soaked cloaks.
I lie on the ground, too exhausted to move. Wade and Ry collapse beside me.
A gap between the Halves’ bodies is wide enough for me to see the road ahead of us. In the distance are two white, shining structures that seem to melt into the sky. I’ve never seen anything like them. In Subterrane Harkibel, the only above-ground structures were small wooden sheds used to store farming tools. But these reach up as far as the eye can see.
Maybe Brice is inside one of them.
A chill—of excitement or fear, or perhaps both—passes through me. We’re so close now.
If we could just escape from these Halves.
CHAPTER 34
Two Halves drag me to my knees. I must have fallen asleep as I was walking. I didn’t even know that was possible. Panic grips me as I try to recall where I am and how I got here. Focusing on the
white structures ahead, which are almost blinding against the bright orange sky, makes my memory return.
As we close the distance to Tanguro, more of the surrounding area comes into view. The two white structures are bordered by a stone wall. The wall is twice as high as the one surrounding Subterrane Harkibel. Both sides of the stone wall meet at tall wooden gates, which loom before us at the end of the North Road.
My sore feet resist the pace the Halves set. Every muscle in my body screams in protest. But the Halves leave me with no choice but to keep up.
The two Halves working either side of the wooden gates are churning the cranks, but the gate is slow to creak open. Our captors, too eager to get us through, are pushing and shoving the prisoners. There’s a bottleneck as too many people are forced through too small a space. The Halves shout and grunt in their guttural language, but it doesn’t help us move any faster. I’ve lost sight of my companions; unfamiliar prisoners from other lands surround me. They all look as exhausted and beaten as I feel.
A Halve shoves me, and my captors lose their grip on my shoulders. For a moment, I’m left unguarded.
My heart thrums in my chest. If I’m going to slip away unnoticed, now is the time. Even as I start to separate myself from the crowd, an image of my father comes unbidden into my mind.
You abandoned him to the Halves, a voice in my head says. Are you going to leave your friends at their mercy, too?
But if I can get away now, I can be of more help to them. Instinct tells me I won’t have another chance to slip away.
Before I can lose my nerve, I crouch low and sneak between the Halves, bumping against their disgusting, scaly hides. They are too focused on getting everyone through the gates to notice me. Besides, they seem more concerned with keeping the prisoners from getting out to notice one slipping in. I squeeze through a narrow opening between the outer part of the gate and the stone wall.
Once inside, I find myself in a courtyard of sorts. The open space is bordered by rows of the strangest-looking trees I’ve ever seen. White leaves spring up from the trunk and spill all the way down to the ground. The branches sway back and forth even though there’s no wind.
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