“It’s a twin hulled boat. Very fast and quiet.” Jarryd looked excited at the prospect.
I didn’t relish the idea of another boat ride, but we had to get to the island.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” One corner of Kaaluk’s mouth lifted slightly.
“I said thank you.”
“You’re welcome, little one.” His finger stroked my flushed cheek.
Jarryd’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at me. I lifted my chin in challenge until he shrugged. With a bemused grin, he joined Kaaluk and the revelers.
Leika slid onto Jarryd’s seat. “Kaal senses something special in you.” She grinned and I looked away. “Don’t be embarrassed. I noticed only because I’m his sister. You’re special to him. Please don’t hurt him.”
“How could I hurt him? I hardly know him.” Her remark puzzled me. It seemed improbable that someone like Kaaluk would be affected by anything I did.
“Forget I said anything.”
How could I forget her remark and ignore the tiny tingles playing over my skin.
“I wish I could go with you to your island tomorrow,” she continued, genuinely concerned.
She’d become like a sister. I’d miss her, but she was a warrior with responsibilities and priorities. I knew she was determined to join the attack force against Prince.
“I’ll be fine with Jarryd.”
“Yes, he’s like Kaal in a way. A strong leader.” Admiration filled her voice and her gaze drifted to the two men. “He’s more than a friend. We’ll miss him.” There was a wistful tone to her voice that suggested something deeper.
“I hope you’ll come and visit me on the island when all this is over.”
“Of course I will. You and Jarryd are special to me and I’d like to meet your mother.”
“Where will you and Kaaluk go?” I dreaded her answer, hoping she’d remain nearby.
“Definitely not Hypor City,” she replied. “Our home is in the Windlands northwest of Nuvega City. Our people, the ones who survived the Rising, settled there. We’re only a small group, so we have to stick together and try to rebuild our community.”
“I thought you were from Hypor. How is it that you ended up here and part of the rebel group?”
“Premier Delio’s father betrayed our people. In exchange for valuable minerals, he promised them safety during the flooding. When the oceans swelled, most were unable to escape. He broke his word and let them die.” Her sad eyes reflected ancestral pain. “Sound familiar?”
“I’m sorry.” I remember reading about the horrific number of deaths during the Rising and what followed. “Is that why you came to live in Hypor City—to find Delio?”
She nodded. “My father was the leader of our tribe. Upon his death, Kaal took his place and continued the promise of revenge for our people.” Her nostrils flared and fierce pride flashed across her face. “Delio is dead, but Prince stills lives.”
Sadness filled my heart. Revenge and death. There was a weight to carry when you took a life. It was something I now understood.
“Enough about Delio.” I shook my head to shed my heavy mood. “You haven’t told me how you escaped from the laundry.”
“And you haven’t told me how you won Steepchase.”
I laughed when Leika’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline. “You first. I insist.”
“Okay.” She took a breath. “Once Steepchase started, Kaal led a group of rebels and invaded the laundry. Pig had only assigned three security guards to watch the area. They were easily overpowered. I left with Kaal, but our men stayed to protect the women in case things went sideways.”
“An easy escape then.”
“Yes, but not for Pig. Once Delio’s intentions were exposed in the video at the Steepchase arena, Pig rushed back to the laundry. I guess he thought he’d be safe in his office. But the twins were waiting for him. One of our men told me that four women pitched Pig into a washing vat and started it up.”
I winced, imagining what the metal agitators would do to a human body.
“A fitting end, but I’m glad I didn’t see it. I prefer simpler methods.” She patted the side of her boot where she kept her knife. “Now your turn.” She stretched her legs and crossed her arms. “Tell me how you won Steepchase.”
The aroma of hot food hit my nostrils. “Let’s eat first. I promise to tell you in private after dinner.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” she promised as we followed our noses.
An hour later, we left the kitchen and headed back to the women’s section.
Leika sprawled across one end of my bedding while I sat cross-legged at the other. “Don’t leave anything out.”
As I regaled her with each Steepchase challenge, she probed for details, but went silent when I described the guard’s attack on Ruby. She agreed that Pig probably ordered the men to kill her, then she looked puzzled. “How did you escape the guards? Why didn’t they attack you?”
Her final question was the only one that mattered and the most difficult to answer. How could I explain what I didn’t fully understand?
“I think I killed the guards with my voice.”
She didn’t look surprised, just curious. “Our elders said that singers were healers.”
“That’s true, but somehow my voice is different. My high notes have an unusual effect.”
The rest came out fast. I told her about the drone in the forest. I was certain now that my voice had something to do with it veering away. Also, Weyland’s reaction to my high notes. “Using my voice underwater against the swimmers was an act of desperation. Self-protection.”
“But it worked.” Leika sat up. “Is that why you’re having nightmares?”
“Yes, I keep seeing their bodies.” I wiped my hand over my eyes.
“Your voice is a weapon, a powerful one.”
Leika’s words troubled me. I’d been trained as a healer yet the truth was that I’d used my voice to defend myself. My actions had resulted in two deaths.
Heavy footsteps approached along the hall. Jarryd appeared in the doorway. “You’d better get some rest, Bryn. We have to be up in a few hours.”
“Okay,” I answered automatically.
“Does Jarryd know about your voice?” she asked when we were alone again. “It’s a good advantage to have.”
“He’s worried about Marta and Weyland. We haven’t had an opportunity to discuss Steepchase.” I scraped my lower lip with my teeth. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to tell him about my voice. It’s been a secret for so long.”
Leika nodded, then stood and strode to her bed. From a leather satchel, she removed the diary and tossed it into my lap.
“You’d better have this back; you might need it.” She gave me a final hug. “Look after yourself tomorrow.”
27
The Second Diary
As the night progressed, the glow of a full moon filled the metal-walled room with eerie light.
The soft rhythmic breathing of the other women didn’t dispel my unease. I dreaded the dream that might come but sleep eluded me. Instead, the underwater scenario replayed incessantly in my brain, always culminating in the image of Ruby’s inert body.
I was still awake when morning light brightened the hideout. Pushing aside the images that had plagued me during the night, I focused on my purpose.
Leika had placed some clean clothes and a comb by my bed. After dressing, I pushed the diary into my boot and joined Jarryd in the kitchen. I expected we’d be alone, given the early hour, and was surprised when Kaaluk strolled into the room.
“You look better today. More rested than yesterday.” He grinned as he spoke and Jarryd laughed.
I felt the blush and decided not to reply. When he sat beside me, my body grew hot and tense.
“Do you have a safe docking area on your island?” he asked Jarryd.
“There’s a beach near an abandoned mill. It’s a short walk to our house. Bryn can do a quick check of the house and meet me
in the village. I’m sure that’s where Mother will be.”
“No.” Kaaluk shook his head. “Stay together. We still don’t know where Prince has gone.”
“I doubt he’d come near here,” insisted Jarryd. “He’s probably hundreds of miles away by now.”
“Some of his guards might be nearby.” Kaaluk grasped Jarryd’s arm. “We’ve all lost family members. You mustn’t take chances with Brynna’s life.”
Jarryd stood abruptly, bristling at the warning. “Don’t worry. I can take care of my own.” He stowed his breakfast dishes in the sink and moved to retrieve a weapon.
Kaaluk remained at my side. His soft breath caressed my neck as he leaned toward me. “Don’t let your brother’s confidence overwhelm your instincts. I trust Leika’s and you should trust yours.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks when I heard the concern in his voice. I looked up into warm green eyes.
“Take care of yourself, little one.” He rose from the table, leaving behind a cold emptiness.
My throat clogged with sadness. Would I ever see him again?
“All aboard,” Jarryd joked as I stepped onto the swaying deck of the cat, having braved a creaky descent in the outside lift.
“How long will it take?”
“About half an hour, then we’ll be on home turf.”
Our progress was smooth on the still ocean. The boat’s speed was impressive and I made the journey without feeling queasy. My heart swelled when the verdant profile of my beloved forest rose in the distance. Jarryd pulled alongside an old dock near the deserted beach on the far side of the island, in the shade of a flank of tall oaks.
Jumping onto familiar soil, I felt a surge of strength and courage. I jogged into the forest and inhaled the clean comforting air.
“Maybe Kaal is right. Maybe we should stick together,” said Jarryd.
I wondered about my brother’s change of mind until I saw him searching the sky.
“There might be drones nearby. We can check the house together then go to the village.”
Being home made me bold. “It will be faster if we split up. I’ll check the house and meet you in the village. It shouldn’t take long.” I didn’t wait for his reply but set off along the path to the greenhouse.
The familiar trail gave me confidence and I quickened my pace, but when the structure came into view I stopped. Shielding behind a tree, I noticed a broken window pane, then another. From my vantage point, it appeared that most of the glass was either cracked or broken, whereas they’d been previously intact.
My pulse quickened as I crouched and ran through the vegetable garden toward Mother’s sanctuary. I squatted along one wall, hoping to hear her hum or her voice as she spoke to her plants, but there was only silence. A searching peek through broken spears of glass confirmed that the greenhouse was empty.
Fear for Mother urged me toward home. I froze when I spied the charred remains of my childhood home.
The back door, usually familiar and welcoming, hung haphazardly on its hinges, splintered and open. Again, there was only silence as I crept over the kitchen threshold carefully avoiding broken shards of pottery. Anger filled my chest when I recognized shattered pieces of Mother’s favorite stewing pot.
The fire had consumed the walls and roof. The acrid odor of destruction tainted every breath. Bits of furniture poked blackened fingers among the debris. Nothing had survived the brutal assault. I prodded piles of ashes, thankful to find no human remains, all the time praying that Mother had found refuge in the village.
I left the deserted house. Where was Mother? Was she dead? Then I thought of Circe. Panicked, I headed for the mews, terrified of what I’d find.
A weak squawk filled me with hope. Inside the dim shed, I was horrified by the sight of Father’s bird who hung headless and broken from the wire mesh. Frantic, I searched for Circe.
Wild eyes watched me from a wooden crossbeam at the peak of the enclosure. Thankfully, she was alive. I retrieved the old water bottle that hung on the wall, pleased to hear a swish. I hummed and pulled on a gauntlet. Circe hesitated then fluttered from her perch and landed unsteadily on my arm. She meekly accepted the water I dribbled into her beak. Her trust filled me with joy that our bond was still strong and with relief that my falcon had survived.
Leaving the mews, I took one final glance at my past, wondering if I would ever return, then sped toward the forest. There was one last stop I had to make before rejoining Jarryd.
I settled Circe on a low rocky point then bounded up the familiar path toward my favorite perch. I didn’t stop at the top but shimmied along the tiny ledge toward the cave opening. Inside, nothing had changed except perhaps for an added layer of dust.
I had to find the second diary, but without Weyland’s help, I wasn’t sure I could. Experience told me to concentrate on the area around the bed where he’d located the first diary. Time was precious, but I moved my hands slowly over the pile of books, hoping I’d feel something. I was about to give up when my knee nudged the side of the bed. The thin mattress slid sideways, revealing a faded red corner. I gently tugged the diary from its hiding place.
This time, the impression on the cover was more distinct. I ran my fingers around the outline, identifying the same circular pattern. I flipped the book over. On the back cover was a clearly defined falcon.
I stiffened when a faint shriek penetrated the cave entrance. I recognized Circe’s danger warning. I thrust the diary into my right boot, then crept toward to the cave entrance. I now had both diaries, one in each boot, but they were only of use if I could avoid detection. There was only one way out—and in.
In cautious silence I approached the bright opening, sliding my body along the cool stone wall. I leaned forward to view the ledge. From a crevice on my right, one gloved hand thrust from the darkness and covered my mouth, another grabbed my hands.
I was trapped.
Fighting against the vice-like grip was futile. I twisted in an attempt to identify my captor but all I could see was his helmet. He dragged me from the cave onto the thin ledge. I struggled but froze when he stopped and thrust my body over the cliff edge. All I could see was the terrifying drop below. I stopped writhing. He pulled me back and we continued down the path.
At forest level, I struggled against my captor, kicking his shins relentlessly. He wasn’t fazed so I tried a different tactic. At the first opportunity, I bit hard into his hand. That got his attention.
“You hell-born babe,” he yelped in pain and shoved me away from him.
Another one of Delio’s guards grabbed my arms and bound them.
“Let me go.” My predictable demand yielded predictable results. The man held me tighter.
“Bring her over here,” a bald man ordered. “Commander Delio will want this one.” His leer resembled one I’d seen on Pig. “If he doesn’t, I know what to do with her.”
A harsh squeal ripped the air.
Claws extended, Circe swooped down and raked his scalp.
“Kill that bird,” he screamed, mopping at the blood that trickled into his eyebrow.
I forced a whistle through dry lips and watched my falcon soar in response. She was quickly out of range of their blasters.
“Gag her,” Baldy commanded.
I lunged sideways, avoiding the hands that reached for my head.
Another guard threw off his helmet and surged forward. “Leave Princess Bokk to me.” It was the malevolent one I’d encountered with Calia on the seventh floor.
“You— “
“Yes,” he sneered. “Your Father’s dead. We burned your house and we’ve got your Mother. She’s on her way to Prima Feminary. Now it’s your turn.”
Weakened by the truths he uttered, I stumbled back. Mother’s words resounded in my brain. ‘Your voice is your power’ triggered an impulse I couldn’t ignore. I dreaded using my voice again. I didn’t want to kill, but it was my only weapon. I inhaled deeply and let my voice soar. The tone was high and clear.
; One by one, the men stumbled, dropped their weapons and lifted their hands to their ears. Six pairs of eyes rolled back in anguished faces as they screamed. Like dominos, they crumbled and fell, their bodies splayed awkwardly on the ground. The nearest one had a red halo starting to form as blood seeped from his ears and eyes.
I slowly surveyed the bodies scattered on the ground. There was no movement. The face closest to me was twisted in grotesque agony. Blood flowed sluggishly from ears and eyes. Clenched fists hung from contorted limbs. His skin was spotted with red dots as if blood had penetrated every pore
Farther back, the other men’s faces appeared less tormented, but their limbs jutted unnaturally from their sides as if reaching for ears now caked in blood.
Retrieving a knife from the nearest body, I freed my hands. I turned away from the carnage. Sick with horror, I doubled over and emptied my stomach. When the retching stopped, I wiped my mouth.
Exhausted, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to rebuild my energy. I knew I had to go, run, find Jarryd and Mother and get off the island, but I was paralyzed by the enormity of what I’d done.
The first time underwater had been an instinctive defensive reflex. I hadn’t anticipated killing two men. This time, my actions had been intentional, fueled by fear and revenge. I’d killed six men.
My stomach roiled again. Had they deserved to die?
Compassion left me conflicted until I remembered my father’s fate and the burned-out shell of our beloved family home. My back stiffened as I accepted responsibility for what I’d done.
Circe’s cry alerted me to danger.
“This way,” a man yelled from the woods on my right. “Check over there near the rocks.”
The harsh male voice sent blood pounding in my head. How many more guards were there? I crouched and headed into the forest toward a hollowed oak tree. Hiding inside, I waited, trying to determine my best escape route.
“Bodies over here,” one guard’s voice cut through the trees behind me. “Looks like they’re all dead.”
“This ugly-faced brute definitely,” called another man. “Never liked him.”
The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Page 21
