Blood Rain

by Nancy Gray

  The fever was on her within the hour. She set the compass into the saddle and split her attention between the compass and the jungle floor beneath her, making sure that they were following the path. Her thoughts were abstract, and she jumped at every sound. Even though she could no longer hear anything flying after her in pursuit, she kept thinking she heard a snuffling snort close by. She felt claws pulling at her clothes, only to find that her cloak was simply caught on a low hanging branch of a tree.

  As Mercy concentrated on the path, her hallucinations lessened. The forest dwellers had designed this back path so that travelers would have a hard time locating it, but other forest dwellers could find it if they needed too. They liked to know when traders were coming, so they always had someone watching the main road. The back paths were only for use in emergencies. The rocks were arranged in a subtle way that made them seem random, but they were in a pattern that only others of her tribe knew.

  Also, some of the trees were marked as though they had been scratched by a behemoth, but the scratch marks were made from bottom to the top, instead of top to the bottom, a subtle but important difference. Behemoths marked territory by stabbing a tree with the horns on their faces and then sweeping down to pull them free. The marks on these trees were lighter as they went up, but most people would think they were behemoth markings and leave the trail alone.

  Mercy shivered and pulled her fur cloak closer as the rain continued to pelt her. The temperature was steadily going down, but she knew most of her cold was coming from the chills caused by the fever, not from the cool night air or the blood rain. She felt herself falling asleep in Nightsong’s saddle, leaning forward and waking up just as she felt the sensation that her body was sagging and could potentially fall.

  And so it went, until she could see daylight creeping up on the horizon.

  She said aloud, “One day is over, Nightsong. Just try to make it through two more. We’ll be there soon.”

  The rain wasn’t as heavy as it was during the evening, but a drizzle of red droplets continued to fall, coating everything in a bloody mess. Mercy took another vigor ash root from the pack and ate it, then chewed on some dried rations, forcing herself to eat even though she didn’t feel very hungry. She crushed another root into the feed for Nightsong and then attached the feed bag to his face and allowed him to walk slowly while they ate.

  Mercy felt tears welling up in her eyes. The vigor ash root would keep them both awake, but with Nightsong’s injuries, it was very likely that without rest, he could die. He had lost more of his lifeblood than she had, and he already was moving with the exhaustion that only came from the aftermath of a painful injury. With every step, Nightsong released a reedy whistle, and she could feel his pain. Though the vitula didn’t have the same depth of emotion as a human, she could also feel something underneath it, a sense of irritation and even some repressed anger. Mercy was pushing him too hard and he didn’t understand it, and since he was only an animal she couldn’t explain it to him.

  Mercy thought, “Damn you, father! Why did you make me do this?”

  They walked the rest of the day at a slow pace until night fell, and then she made Nightsong run again. The rain also became worse, and it became another thunderstorm of blood and purplish red lightning. The trail was increasingly difficult to follow as the land around them began to change. Instead of the large forest trees, the terrain became thick with small jungle plants and smaller trees, and the soil became sandy. Thankfully, the path was still clear enough for her to see. A strange signal began to shine in the sky. It wasn’t the same as a flash of lightning, but a bright patch of light shining on the low hanging clouds.

  Mercy paused. “That light. What is it, Nightsong? I think it might be coming from Concord.”

  Nightsong chirruped in a way that seemed to tell her he was simply happy that they were stopping for a moment. Mercy sighed and patted his side, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. The vitula was exhausted. His antennas were sagging, and the deep wound on his side was bleeding again. She hadn’t realized that his leg was simply dragging along the trail behind them, wounded to the point of being useless. It was amazing he was still able to run at all.

  “We’ll stop here, Nightsong. I don’t care what father said. I’m not going to make you run until you die.”

  Mercy dismounted and applied more bandages to his wounds and then gave him more to eat. Nightsong pushed at the ground, as though trying to find a place to burrow and immediately fell into a sound sleep. Mercy fought against sleep, afraid she would sleep a full day if she succumbed. She sat in the saddle so she would be ready as soon as she saw the beacon in the sky again. But, even sitting up, she was too tired to stay awake. She slumped over in exhaustion, the way she had after she flew on him as a child for the first time all through the night.

  Mercy slowly opened her eyes as she heard a deep throated growl in the tree next to her. She looked up into the branches and saw a creature that resembled a large blue-gray cat with two eyes on the front of its face and one on its forehead glaring down at her with predatory interest. Its three front legs and two large powerful hindquarters were poised to pounce, and she knew she only had one instant to move or be trapped beneath the powerful middle arm of a render.

  Mercy cut the saddle strap from her waist and leapt out of the way, right as the render landed on Nightsong’s back, where she was only a moment before. It slammed its body into Nightsong, knocking him off balance. As soon as the vitula was on his side, the render quickly climbed back on top of him, holding his thorax still with its middle appendage, and raking down his sides with its claws. The render wouldn’t be able to claw through the chitin, but it could rip it off with its fangs.

  Mercy screamed, “Nightsong! Hold on!”

  Nightsong’s pain and terror was tangible in Mercy’s mind. She reached for her bow, but her body was shaking so much that she could barely hold it steady. The arrow grazed the creature on the shoulder. It snarled but continued to tear at Nightsong’s body. As she readied another arrow, another render casually walked out from behind a nearby tree. It was slightly smaller than the one on top of Nightsong, but it quickly leapt onto his head and sunk its fangs into the chitin on the back of his thorax. Mercy heard the chitin pop under the pressure.

  “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

  Mercy shot the arrow into the second render’s flank. It snarled in pain and staggered away. Its mate looked at Mercy and laid its ears back, baring long white fangs and getting ready to pounce. Mercy had the arrow ready as the creature sprang towards her. She shot it in the chest, but the creature’s dead body landed squarely on her shoulder, knocking her down. The other render limped towards her swiping at her face. She rolled out of the way just in time as the creature’s claws got stuck in the folds of her cloak, ripping it away from her. She pulled the knife out of her belt, slicing the thick fur of its middle leg as she leapt up. It howled in fury and pain and then scrambled into the forest.

  Nightsong thrashed in agony. His antennae were flailing wildly, and Mercy realized that he was barely even alive. The chitin on his sides was mangled and the chitin protecting his back had popped open entirely. Mercy knew that she should put him out of his misery, that every second as he bled out would be painful and frightening. She took her knife and raised it above him, and then felt it tumble from her hand uselessly.

  She thought, “I can’t do it. He doesn’t deserve to suffer, but I just can’t do it…”

  Mercy forced herself to look at Nightsong as he began to make a pitiful keening noise.

  She hugged him around his head and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me. I love you.”

  She sat by him and went through the motions of treating his injuries. It seemed to comfort him slightly.

  “Mender of Spirits wanted to teach me that I can’t save everyone. I already knew that. I can’t even save my own vitula.”

  Tears streamed from her eyes as she heard the last sound that escaped her mount and f
riend’s throat. It was a woeful sound like a bow drawn across a violin. Nightsong was singing one last time for her. Even though it could’ve been her imagination, she thought she felt resolution to his fate and even relief from him as he sang.

  As Nightsong died, Mercy collapsed onto her knees. Tears blurred her vision, and she released a horrified howl up to the sky. She didn’t have time to mourn her loss, and that made it hurt even more. All she wanted to do was to curl up into a ball on the ground and wait until her exhausted body stopped shaking.

  Mercy thought, “I can’t give in now. Just concentrate on walking forward. Don’t think of anything else. If I give up, Nightsong died for no reason. One more day, just one more day…”

  Mercy forced herself to stand and quickly ran down the trail, leaving Nightsong and the dead render behind her. She had been running for nearly thirty minutes before she realized she only had her bow, the arrows, and her backpack of supplies. She wished she could at least go back to retrieve the sack of trade goods. But, she knew better than that. Mercy was still wounded and other predators would be drawn to the dead animals. She also couldn’t bear even the thought of looking at whatever remained of Nightsong and callously rummaging through his saddle for supplies.

  Mercy took one last glance behind her and bolted further into the forest. She took another vigor ash root from her backpack, chewing on it as she ran. Her chest was heaving with effort and her legs were burning. The unpleasant sensation of the cramps in her legs became dull as she began to feel the effects of the root.

  Mercy thought, “I have to stop eating these roots, but if I stop eating them, if I take a break even for a minute, I’m going to collapse. If I can keep pushing myself, only one more day and night, I’ll still reach Concord in just a little over three days. If I can get there before the storm ends, maybe I’ll find some sort of clue…”

  Her heart felt as though it was beating out of her chest, and everything seemed to blur around her with every small motion. She no longer felt any pain from the wound above her collarbone or the scratches from the tree branches. She looked down and saw that she had somehow lost her shoes during her run, and her feet were torn and bleeding, but she hadn’t even felt it. Running without shoes, especially in the puddles left by the bloody rain, would probably mean a dangerous infection. However, at the moment, she didn’t care.

  The rain started to lessen. Far off in the far distance, she was starting to see the edge of the clouds. She felt sure it would rain one more night, and then the blood rain would stop. She sighed. She wouldn’t reach Concord before it ended. Mercy walked the rest of the day. She tried not to think about Nightsong, or her potential addiction to the roots, or anything else, simply staring at the trail ahead of her. She no longer had her compass, so the trail of light in the evening sky was the only hope she had of staying on course. Loneliness was also starting to close in on her, like the vines and foliage that were making it difficult to follow the trail.

  As it began to get dark, Mercy leaned up against a tree for a moment taking inventory of her remaining supplies. There were still a few dried rations, which she immediately ate. There was one more bladder of water, which she used more sparingly. She wouldn’t find anymore fresh water after the blood rain. There were still plenty of silk bandages and the raw silk she had taken from Nightsong before she left, so she replaced the bandage on her neck. Even though she couldn’t see the wound, she could tell that it was inflamed because the skin around it felt hot. She also bandaged her feet so that the soles wouldn’t be torn up any further by the rocky trail.

  She missed her stone knife, but she still had her arrows. At least, that meant if she got desperate for food she could hunt. Mercy leaned her head back for an instant closing her eyes and thought about how to proceed once she got out of the forest. That one instant was all it took for her to drift into a very deep sleep.

  Mercy was awakened by a sharp pain on her neck. She reached for her neck but felt too weak to swat whatever was biting her out of the way. She could just barely recognize that it was twilight, and she immediately realized that she had slept through the night and most of the next day. Her first conscious thought was that she had lost a day of travel time, but she couldn’t remember why she was in such a hurry.

  She could hear the light rain thudding gently on a large leather blanket draped over her body. For a moment, as things were coming into focus, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It looked like a man with reddish brown hair, kissing her on the neck. Then she saw his pointed ears, which were becoming more and more pronounced as she stared at him, and she realized it wasn’t a blanket draped across her, but one large elongated wing.

  4

  Terror nearly overwhelmed Mercy as she realized that one of the Blood Wings was drinking blood from her neck. She recognized him as the bat creature that had tumbled into the forest after she knocked him off balance, the one with reddish brown hair that had bitten Nightsong’s leg. Mercy screamed and it looked up, but its eyes were rolled back in its head. It shrieked and bit her on the forehead, draining more blood that began to run down her face. Mercy instinctively reached for her knife, only to find that it wasn’t there. Her bow had been tossed a few feet away, but her quiver of arrows was still on her back.

  Mercy grabbed an arrow and yanked the beast man’s head back by his hair, then stuck the tip of the arrow into his eye. Even though he was in blood frenzy, he shrieked in pain and surprise and Mercy staggered to her feet. She ran over to her bow, but fell down abruptly as the creature yanked her ankle out from under her, and pulled her closer.

  The beast creature crawled onto her back, biting into her unwounded shoulder. She screamed. The pain was so acute that everything seemed to slow down for a moment and all Mercy could see were black and green dots in front of her eyes. Either the beast man no longer had any venom left, or it wasn’t bothering to dull her pain. Either way, it felt like four sharp knives were digging into her flesh, about to pull it off of her. She reached out desperately for her bow, trying to concentrate. Mercy could feel the wood of the bow on the tips of her fingers, but one wrong move would mean she would push it out of her way rather than pulling it back.

  She managed to curl one finger around the bow, and that was just enough. She pulled it towards her, grabbing an arrow from her quiver, and rolled over so that the bat creature was under her and she was lying on her back on top of it. She pushed up from the ground, screaming in pain as the flesh that was inside of its mouth came off. But, she was free from the beast man’s clutches. She turned, nocked the arrow into the bow, and shot the creature in the chest while it was still struggling to stand up. Its large, red eyes flipped downward and it looked at her for a moment in surprise, and then the glowing red light left his eyes. They looked as brown and lifeless as the scratched surface of a well-used glass marble.

  Mercy nearly collapsed in exhaustion, but then she saw the path of light in the sky much closer than it was before. She hobbled toward it, feeling more tired than she ever had in her life. She finally broke through the jungle foliage and saw the black sands of the beaches close to Concord. The black sand was a pleasant contrast to the red earth she saw fleeing from the jungle. At least here she couldn’t see the blood on the ground. The lighthouse in front of her, once clearly a vibrant white stone structure, was now slicked with a red splattering of blood.

  Mercy stared ahead of her, and two men were silhouetted by the mirrored flare from inside of the lighthouse, and upon seeing them she realized that she was reliving the memory of her journey over and over again in her dreams…

  Mercy’s first conscious thought was, “I asked the spirits to help me remember, and they did. I know why I’m here now. I came to find out what caused the blood rain. I’m still alive. Those two must have saved me.”

  5

  Mercy’s eyes shot open. The room she was in was dim but lit well enough that she could see. It was modest in size, with a writing desk, wardrobe, and some sea themed paintings adorning the walls al
ong with a large mirror. There was also a bedside table and a warm, small bed that Mercy was lying on under some freshly laundered sheets. On the bedside table, there was a bowl of warm broth, a teacup and a kettle of tea, along with a damp cold compress resting next to a bowl of water.

  Mercy tried to sit up but quickly laid back down as pain coursed through her body. She got enough of a look at herself in the mirror across from her to notice that she had been bathed recently, and all of her wounds were bandaged. The one on her forehead was stitched up. She was wearing a long, man’s tunic and some loose fitting trousers. The fresh, yet strong smelling, soapy scent of the sheets was similar to the smell of her clean skin. Mercy blushed realizing one of the men must’ve bathed her. Even though it wasn’t necessarily looked down upon for one of her race to wear nothing on her top, bathing would require her to be totally exposed. She thought of the Ashen man and frowned, wondering if he had taken advantage of the situation. The fact that she was dressed hinted that they probably didn’t abuse her.

  The bowl of broth smelled delicious. She was so hungry and thirsty it was agonizing, but she remembered her father’s warning and wouldn’t reach for it. She glanced at the door to the room and saw the flickering shadows of two men sitting at a table from somewhere close to the doorway. The shadows were created by an oil lamp on the table between them. They were speaking quietly in the language of the Ashen People. She stayed completely silent, listening.

  The man with the unusual accent said, “But, Pyron, we can’t just leave her here by herself.”

  “I’m not suggesting that we do, Beryl. But, my contact isn’t going to wait. Do you know how difficult it was to arrange a meeting with one of his kind? I was lucky to do it at all.”