by Brondos, Pam
“Yes, they feel far away, but I can still sense them.”
Soris quickly dropped the poles into the river. The second pole rolled away until it was an arm’s length from the first pole. A thin material spread out between the long pieces of wood. Nat knelt and touched the shiny fabriclike surface. It hardened under her fingers, and she jerked her hand back in surprise. The fabric solidified, forming a narrow bridge that spanned half the river.
Annin clutched the leather reins and stepped onto the bridge, easing the horse behind her. “Ready,” she said to Soris.
He released a latch on the ends of each pole. A whooshing sound rose from the ground, and the ends of the poles extended to the other side of the river, creating a bridge across the entire waterway. Annin took a tentative step forward. Her feet dipped a few inches into the water, but the bridge held.
“It’s made from the guard hairs of a bastle,” Soris explained as Nat again ran her hand over the solid surface. “When it’s wet, it stiffens until it’s as solid as rock, but lightweight. Natalie, you can examine it some other time. Step on,” he said with urgency and glanced at the hill behind them. He tossed her the reins to their horse and she stepped uneasily onto the bridge.
Water coursed over her ankles and the wide hooves of Soris’ horse. She kept walking, not wanting to think what would happen if the horse stumbled or the unreal material snapped under her feet. She glanced up and saw Annin slosh across the end of the bridge onto the opposite bank. Nat looked behind her. Andris carried Emilia in his arms, and Soris led the last horse onto the bridge.
She could see Soris speaking to Andris and heard him say something about the Nala. Andris fixed his eyes on Nat and frowned before quickening his pace over the bridge. He probably thinks the Nala are looking for me, she thought as she tugged the nervous horse behind her. Her boots and feet were soaking wet when she stepped onto the dry ground of the bank. Her horse snorted when she pulled him away from the river’s edge.
“Move out of the way!” Andris shouted behind her. He lowered Emilia to the ground just as Soris and the final horse stepped onto the bank. Annin dropped down and touched levers at the base of each pole. The bridge retracted with lightning speed. Soris grasped one pole and Andris the other. They raised the poles into the air. Water sluiced down the solid bridge toward them. The poles retracted farther into themselves until they were no taller than the tip of the tree next to Nat. More water poured from the surface as Soris and Andris rolled the flexible poles together. Soris leaned the rolled-up bridge against the tallest tree, where it blended with the bark.
“Emilia, you will ride with me,” Andris said carefully, making it sound more like a request than an urgent command. Emilia let him lift her into the saddle without protest. Andris mounted the horse as soon as she had settled, and thundered off into the prairie.
“Two approaching from the south, Annin.” Soris clasped Nat’s arm and hauled her onto his horse.
Annin nodded in agreement and mounted her horse. “Nala in the far north, in the castle, and now out on the prairie.” She turned her horse, holding the reins tightly. “Their movements are unheard of. Pretty soon, the Meldon Plains will be the only place the Nala aren’t crawling through.” She kicked her horse and galloped after Andris.
Nat clung to Soris as their horse lumbered forward, building a slow steam before breaking into a gallop. She tried to focus on the sound of the pounding hooves instead of the voice in her mind telling her she was the cause of the Nala crawling all over Fourline.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Two nights’ ride since the river and no Nala, Nat thought, thankful the most recent bit of forest was far behind them. She stretched in the saddle in front of Soris. Her body ached, and she had sores up and down the inside of her thighs and calves from the long rides. Soris gently rubbed her shoulders with one hand while she held the reins of their horse.
“You have no idea how good that feels,” Nat said as he dug his thumb into her aching muscles.
“If my brother ever decides to take a break, you can show me,” he whispered in her ear.
Nat smiled, but her smile faded away quickly. I still need to tell him I have to leave. Between guard duty, watching Emilia, and riding at a breakneck pace, she still hadn’t found the right time to explain to Soris what she’d overheard in the Chemist’s garden. She glanced over at Andris, wondering if he’d listen to her if she asked him to pause. She wanted to look at Soris’ face when she told him she was leaving Fourline.
“Andris needs to stop,” she said to Soris and tilted her chin toward Andris and Emilia. “Emilia’s exhausted and he’s about to fall off the horse himself.”
“You know I already tried,” Soris said. “He’s determined to reach the merchant road south of Daub Town in two days.” He rotated his neck, ushering in a series of cracking sounds. “I’ll ask again once Annin returns from scouting,” he said with a yawn.
“Figure out something that will convince him quickly, because there she is,” Nat said and gestured toward Annin’s familiar figure approaching on horseback. “She looks like she’s in a hurry.” Nat sat up straight in the saddle, suddenly alert as she watched Annin’s horse crash down an incline blanketed with lichen-covered rocks. Sweat matted her horse’s coat. What now? she wondered.
Annin brought her ride to a halt in front of Andris and Emilia. “Guards ahead, at the base of the hill.” Her cheeks were flushed. “They have two children with them.” Her mouth formed a hard line.
“Duozi?” Nat dropped from the saddle.
Annin nodded, looking grim. Soris turned toward the distant outline of the forest south of the prairie. “Nala are close as well,” Annin said as she exchanged a look with Soris.
“The guards must be delivering the children to the Nala.” Nat felt a tightness, like a ball of anger, building in her chest. Annin’s expression mirrored her feelings.
“There’s nothing to be done about it. We’ll ride north and skirt around them,” Andris said. He gently lifted Emilia’s chin and poured water into her mouth. She swallowed lazily and her eyes closed from exhaustion. The three of them watched Andris without saying a word. He took a sip of water and lowered the flask slowly from his lips, eyeing each one in turn. “I know what you’re thinking and absolutely not.” He shoved the cap onto the flask.
“We can’t leave them.” Nat voiced what they were all thinking.
“I’m not risking Emilia’s safety for duozi,” Andris said, his jaw clenched.
“You don’t have to risk anything for the duozi, brother.” Soris sat rigidly in the saddle. His voice was low and almost cold. “The three of us will pick off the guard.”
“No,” Andris growled. Emilia’s head snapped up at the angry sound of Andris’ voice. He placed a soothing hand on her hair. “We are not engaging in a fight,” he said, forcing a calm tone.
“We don’t have to fight,” Nat lied, knowing saving the children might be her last chance to strike against the Nala and Mudug before she returned home. There was no way she was letting the Nala take the children. “If they’re meeting the Nala, we can spy on them and find out where they’re taking the duozi. It’s better to know where the Nala or the guard are going so we can avoid them.” Let Andris believe they would just spy on the guards.
“You don’t know the Nala are here for the children, Natalie.” Andris’ eyes narrowed into slits. “They could be after something else,” he said pointedly.
“It doesn’t matter why they’re here, Andris,” she shot back, knowing he was blaming her for their presence. “We have a better chance of avoiding them if we know where they’re going.”
“Leave the logistics of avoiding battles to me.” He thrust his hand toward his chest. He turned his horse and Emilia’s eyes fluttered open. Her face was ashen.
“The Nala won’t sense Soris or me if we stick close to the duozi children,” Annin said, joining in the argument. “If we move away from the children, there’s a chance they’ll know more duozi are in
the area. That won’t help your logistics, will it?”
“More reason to stay close to the children until the Nala approach,” Nat agreed. Andris’ features seemed to pinch together as he glared at Nat. “You and Emilia can hold back while we watch and see if there’s an exchange. She could use the rest.”
“Natalie’s right,” Annin said. “Emilia can’t continue at this pace. There’s good cover in the rocks, even a little rainwater pooled for the horses. There’s more risk to Emilia if we continue on at the pace we’ve been going with no break.”
“Excellent idea,” Soris concurred, meeting his brother’s grim expression with one of his own. “You can watch over Emilia and the horses while the three of us learn what we can.”
“I don’t trust any of you not to start something.” Andris eyed them suspiciously. Annin stroked her horse and Soris untied his water gourd. No one looked at Andris.
“We won’t do anything stupid,” Nat lied, already thinking one child could ride with Annin and the other with Soris and her.
“What are these?” Nat whispered to Annin. She pushed the wild pup off her leg. Its pointed nose sniffed her hand, scrambled back onto her leg, and chewed on the lip of her leather boot.
“Gunnel kits,” Annin replied, shooing away another ball of fuzz with her hand. “Something like your wolves or bears.” She crawled to the edge of the overhanging rock above the guards. Soris brushed two kits off his legs and inched closer to Annin.
“Wolf or bear? There’s a big difference.” Nat eyed the sharp teeth of one of the kits as it sniffed and bit Annin’s elbow. Annin hissed at the pup. It whined and scrambled toward the dark break in the rock behind them into what Nat assumed was their den.
“Doesn’t matter,” Annin said, rubbing her elbow. “Just be happy their parents hunt most of the night. The gunnel is one predator we can’t control.”
Nat glanced at the den one more time, then crept next to Soris. He pointed past the guards stoking a fire. Two small children huddled next to the rocks beyond the light of the building flames. Rope bound their wrists together.
“And there are the Nala.” Annin narrowed her eyes and nodded in the direction of the long grass. One of the guards yelled. Two Nala heads rose like malformed bubbles. The creatures crawled on their angular arms and legs, then rolled their backs until both stood upright. Shadows danced over their skin as they approached the soldiers’ fire. Nat breathed a sigh of relief when she saw their skin was blue and not white like the ones she believed were searching for her.
The guards drew their weapons and stood behind the fire. The Nala eyed the children cowering against the rocks.
One of the guards found his voice. “We were to meet tomorrow. Why are you here now?”
The Nala’s hands clicked together and the guards shifted nervously.
“One of our own has not returned from a negotiation with your Lord Mudug,” the Nala closest to the rocks hissed.
“I know of no meeting between Lord Mudug and your kind. We were told only to bring the duozi.” The guard lifted his sword.
“Perhaps you speak truthfully.” The Nala gnashed at the air, its sharp teeth striking against each other. The other Nala shifted its attention toward the duozi children and scampered across the trampled grass toward them. A girl, dressed in a thick woolen shift, shut her eyes and whimpered as the creature ran its hand over her shoulder. Nat felt Soris’ body tense next to hers. “But perhaps not,” the first Nala continued. “Tell your Lord Mudug that if the Nalaide’s messenger does not return in three days, his trade routes will suffer. And,” it added, “we await word of the capture of the Warrior Sister that invaded the Nalaide’s nest. The Nalaide knows she passes freely among you. Her scouts have sighted the Sister we seek north of your city.”
“I don’t know what you’re . . .” The soldier’s voice faltered. He backed away toward the fire and his arm shot out toward the grass. “Gunnel,” he yelped.
A growl arose from the darkness behind the Nala. An animal resembling a long-legged grizzly bear emerged from the grass. The firelight glinted off the gunnel’s sharp teeth, bared and ready to snap. It lifted its plate-sized head, and another growl rumbled from deep within its broad chest.
The Nala closest to the gunnel pivoted, and its eyes bored into the animal as if trying to control its movements. The gunnel paused a flicker of a second, then launched toward the Nala with a deafening roar. It slammed into it and bit off its blue arm in one bite. Another gunnel roared out of the grass and rammed one of the guards against the rocks. The uninjured Nala leapt onto the gunnel’s back and sank its fangs into the animal’s shoulder. The gunnel reared up on its back legs and crashed onto the ground, crushing the Nala beneath it.
“Time to move.” Soris grasped Nat’s hand, and they slid down the side of the rock to an overhang above the children. Rocks skittered around them and tumbled down near the children. The girl glanced up just as Soris dropped his knife. The short blade landed near her feet. “Cut the ropes,” he said to her in a loud whisper drowned out by the gunnels’ roars.
She grasped it with her fingers and pressed the blade against the rope binding the boy. Free of the rope, he flexed his hands, grabbed the dagger, and sliced through the rope binding the girl’s hands. The children crept into a split in the rocks and climbed with bare feet onto a narrow ledge to the left of Soris. They tossed him his knife. He gestured hurriedly for them to keep moving, and the children scrambled higher up the rocks.
Soris and Nat each lifted a child into their arms and carried them over the boulders. A hissing scream echoed behind them. Two fewer Nala in the world to worry about, Nat thought as she shifted the boy who clung to her with a fierce grip. Her foot caught in a narrow split in the rocks and she tumbled forward, slamming against her shoulder. Annin pulled her upright.
“You’re a duozi,” the boy said in wonder as Annin took him into her arms. Nat glanced behind her to make sure nothing was following them. Smoke and the tip of flames licked the far end of the rock formation they’d fled moments ago. Nat could still hear the enraged roars of the gunnels.
“Yes, and I prefer to be the living kind, so hold tight,” Annin said, seeing the smoke and hearing the roars. She scaled another boulder with the boy clinging to her back. Nat clambered up after them and pulled her orb free from her cloak. The sphere skimmed over the plateau. She ran with it to the rock outcropping hiding Andris and Emilia. She heard Andris yelling and wondered if she was safer back with the gunnels.
“I knew this was going to happen!” Andris lifted Emilia into the saddle. Her pale eyes flashed as she looked nervously at Soris, who was already on his horse with the girl clutched to his chest. Andris’ neck muscles bulged and his face looked dark red in the light of Nat’s orb. “Sister, if something happens to Emilia because you disobeyed my order for them . . .” He pointed to the children.
“My oath supersedes your orders!” Nat yelled.
“It was my idea to bring the children, not hers,” Soris interjected from atop his saddle. His horse high-stepped and snorted.
“I knew she’d addle you,” Andris barked, keeping his eyes locked on Nat.
“Save the family fight for later,” Annin said, boosting the boy into her saddle, “when we’re far away from the gunnels.”
“Gunnels?” Emilia lifted her head.
“We have gunnels on our tail,” Nat answered. She took Soris’ extended hand and climbed onto his horse, settling into the space behind the end of the saddle.
“The Nala and now gunnels are after you? You’re quite the magnet, Sister!” Andris yelled. “What’s coming next? A legion of Mudug’s guards?”
“We don’t want these children anywhere near a gunnel,” Emilia remarked as if Andris had said nothing.
“Well said, Emilia. Don’t you agree, Andris?” Annin asked with feigned politeness. She grasped her saddle horn and swung herself onto the skittish horse behind the boy.
“Two days’ ride, Sister,” Andris called out to Nat
with fury in his eyes. He gripped his reins with one hand and clasped Emilia around the waist as he sat high on his horse. “Then you are back through that wretched hole to your world, if something, including me, doesn’t kill you first!” He dug his heels into the animal’s flanks. The horse shot up the rocky path.
Annin clutched the boy and kicked her horse into motion. The horses climbed out of the wide overhang and galloped into the night. Nat shifted her weight and clung to Soris while Andris’ words rang in her ears.
“Something you want to share with me, Natalie?” Soris yelled over his shoulder.
Nat tucked her head next to him and swallowed. “Yes,” she finally said, knowing it was past time to tell him the truth. The story of what she’d overheard in the Chemist’s garden tumbled from her mouth as the wind whipped around them and the dark night descended.
The long night’s ride seemed like a bad dream as Nat sat in the barn where they’d taken refuge after their ride. She smoothed the sleeping duozi girl’s hair away from her thin face and thought of Soris’ reaction to everything she and Andris had overheard after they’d rescued Emilia. He’d listened quietly, interrupting her only twice to clarify what the Chemist had said about the Warrior Sister the Nala were searching for and what Mudug had said about the duozi slaves in his mines. When they’d arrived at the deserted hay barn before morning, Soris told Andris he’d take first watch and disappeared without another word to Nat.
She glanced outside through the door. Annin and Soris were saddling the horses, readying them for the next ride. I need more time, she thought. She felt a small hand in hers and looked down at the girl. Her eyes were open; she stared at Nat’s markings. The light filtering through the windows of the barn highlighted the light-blue skin on the girl’s arm and neck.
“I’ve never met a Sister.” The girl held the tip of her pointed hand to Nat’s markings.
“You’re going to meet plenty of them soon. They’ll take good care of you.” Nat looked up at the sound of creaking wood. Soris walked into the barn, kicking up dust that floated into the air.
