Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “Kinda,” and wondered what his mom had in mind. “Why, what are we going to do?”

  She gnawed her bottom lip, eyes concentrating for a moment. “Fulvio left us a map to the valley. Since it’s to be our new village, I think we should pack up and meet them there.”

  “But I thought Dad and Ennis were checking it out first?”

  “I know Fulvio plans on settling off the mountain. Them traveling back and forth will waste valuable time. And it’d save weeks if we headed that way. We may as well gather our goods and start moving. Don’t you think?”

  “Are you serious?” he said, disbelievingly. “You’d do that?”

  “It’s been months of recuperation and wallowing.” She swept her hair into a ponytail. “They went to the city for salvaging purposes, and if we were to meet them, we could help. Right?” She looked into his face for confirmation.

  “Brilliant.” His heart pounded for the adventure to begin.

  “No. Stupid idea.” Her entire body seemed to shrink.

  “I bet everyone’s ready to get moving. I think it’s great idea.” Fabal held her hand shedding an animated smile. “We can do this. You’re right. Why should we wait here when we could meet them and get things started?”

  “Really, you think so?”

  “I know so.”

  ***

  It began as a blissfully sunny day, and Smelt in his typical style was the primary complainer. “Fulvio, I’m no horse’s ass. Hauling and heaving these darn bricks can wait till everybody git’s here.”

  “We need to unload so we can travel back and transport provisions and peoples from the mountain,” Doogan responded, thirsty and sun-drenched.

  “Where’s Gus?” Sullen, Smelt eyed Doogan with disapproval. “How come he’s not helping?”

  “His arms throbbing.” Shirtless, Doogan wiped fingers over his upper lip. “He needs rest and more than likely an antibiotic.” He readjusted stone and bricks that were balancing on his arms and chest and legging it to where Fulvio was sorting their goods, and tumbled them on the ground.

  “I thought we hauled bags of medication and stuff from the city? And almost got killed in the process.” Smelt dipped grimy hands into his back pockets and scuffed his foot over the weedy yellow grass.

  “You’re right. Haven’t had time to go through those yet.” Lines of fatigue and worry seemed to ebb on Doogan’s face. He chucked Smelt on the shoulder. “I hope there’s something in there for Gus.”

  “I’m good fer somethin’” An unpretentious Smelt stubbed a toe into the dirt.

  “I never thought to bring antibiotics?” Fulvio said, overhearing their dialogue while rolling his sleeves past his hefty biceps.

  “That was my oversight, not yours. Let’s get this mess organized so I can go through those sacks and see what we got.” Doogan glimpsed over his shoulder toward the helio. A scraggly teenage girl huddled on the edge of the warm craft. Ennis then blocked his view of the girl as he offered her a ration of water. “The girl’s come around, a slight concussion and shock. She refuses to speak, and Gus keeps trying to make her talk. I’m worried she might take off to look for her people.”

  Fulvio swept hair from his perspiring face and scratched filthy fingertips into his beard. “That can’t happen. I doubt anyone survived, besides, she’ll get lost or killed traveling alone in this countryside. I tried explaining to her that we were lucky to make it out of the city alive.”

  “Hey! Am I the only one working here?” Smelt dumped a stack of bricks. “Looks like Gus decided to lend a hand for a change,” he added, “Make that three hands.”

  They turned to watch Ennis stacking supplies into Gus’s outspread arms. Doogan hastily headed to the near empty truck and heard Smelt’s comment. “Fulvio, looks like Tallas did a number on your boy.”

  Fulvio stared at his son’s glistening back, welted scars stretched over sinewy muscles. “He bore every lash with stubborn bravado,” he said to Smelt. The deplorable sight drew an uneven and heartfelt breath. He’d forever blame himself for Doogan’s stripes.

  “I’d be crying like a baby and pleading for mercy after one.” Smelt appeared to assess Doogan anew. Visibly admiring the strapping man’s humility. His lips compressed and bubbled with a nod of respect. “Why’d they do it?”

  “Not my tale to relinquish just now, Smelt.”

  ***

  Not desiring anyone’s pity, Doogan grabbed his bloodstained shirt and slipped it on while striding toward Ennis and Gus.

  “How’s the arm?” he asked.

  “It feels hot and itching like crazy.” Gus staggered, weighed down with salvaged supplies. He spoke to Fulvio, “Where’d you want these?”

  “Over by that giant willow, my boy.” He gestured to a clearing.

  Doogan followed Gus and assisted with the cargo. “Fulvio was right,” Gus said. “This valley is perfect, isn’t it?”

  “I hope so.” Doogan stood erect, inspecting the lush valley. Currently in the throes of autumn, stocked with sycamore, pine, willow, and ash trees. And on the southern bend of the region, a reflective lake hopefully a domicile for schools of fat fish. With an arm shielding his eyes from the sun, he peered east. “This region might’ve been a national park or possessed by someone very wealthy. I see remnants of a manor situated on that rise of land.” He poked his chin designating the manor’s location. “We should check it out.”

  “You want to check it out now?”

  Doogan shook his head. “No, it can wait.” Then kneeling and using his hand like a spade collected a handful of dirt. Mashing and sniffing the dirt, he said, “Soil’s excellent for planting and once we design a layout for a village we can start building.”

  “Sounds complicated doesn’t it?” Gus winced, linking his arms behind his back.

  Clapping earth from his hands Doogan then cleaned them on his jeans. “Life is complicated.”—and noticed a masking flush on the young man’s cheeks. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Fine.” When Doogan brought a hand up to touch Gus’s forehead he retracted a step. “I’m fine really.”

  “Don’t lie, Gus. You have a fever. I can see it in your eyes and your face.”

  “It’s just hot today, that’s all.” He blotted his face on his shirt. “A couple of days ago we were paddling in snow and today it’s hotter than Hades.”

  “It’s probably hitting sixty degrees. I wouldn’t actually call that hot.” With a critical eye, he scrutinized the boy. “Are you hot or do you feel chilly? Tell me the truth?”

  “Well, sometimes I’m hot like now.” Gus ran fingers through his hair. “And then I get the shakes like it’s freezing.”

  “Fever.” Doogan tsked through barred teeth. “Let me look at your hand.” Remaining under the shade of a denuded weeping willow, a reluctant Gus revealed his swollen hand. “Holy shit, not good.” He examined the pinkish ballooning arm. “Your arm’s burning. C’mon, I need to talk to my father, you need complete rest. You’re in no shape to be working.” He headed to the group of men.

  “Doogan, wait—” Hugging his bad arm to his chest, Gus scuffled alongside him. “Who’s going to drive the truck?”

  “Ennis.” He offered a perfunctory answer.

  “But...but who’s going to fly the...whatchacallit?”

  “I’ve been observing Ennis.” He talked while keeping a brisk pace. “And it’s pretty simple. I can fly the heliocraft.” Happy to see the truck and wagon emptied of its contents, he strode toward Fulvio. He was in the process of searching in his camo pants and numerous pockets, his father appeared vexed. “Lose something?”

  Fulvio’s furrowed brow amended into a look of relief. “Ah-hah, here it is”—and withdrew the cellular. “These solar powered devices are amazing. And a good thing, we don’t have electricity yet.”

  “So you’s gonna turn that thing on now and alert Tallas where we are.” Smelt caught a gleam of enamel and came closer to the teaming men.

  “What’s going on?” Ennis ask
ed, nearing the team.

  “It’s long overdue to check in with my informant in Tallas.” Fulvio polished the cellular over his shirt, cleaning smudges. “See what’s transpiring in that neck of the woods.”

  “We know who your informants are,” Doogan said with a sarcastic lilt. “You can say Goshen and Paniess.” He recollected only too well the curves, taste, and feel of his childhood flame.

  Months ago he’d been informed his beloved wife, Keeyla, had been shot and fell off a cliff to her doom; he came within a breath of reigniting his passion with Paniess. When they had been rescued, he’d begged Paniess to fly away with them. She’d rejected him, saying her mission was in Tallas, and someday Fulvio would explain.

  “Who’s Paniess and why do you need to talk to her?” asked an inquisitive Gus.

  “It’s inevitable that we’ll have to borrow—” Fulvio stroked a crafty eyebrow. “Indispensable provisions from Tallas. At least until we get ourselves established.”

  “I knew it! I knew it!” Smelt spanked his kneecap for effect. “We’re all gonna git kilt.”

  Ennis raised a surrendering hand. “Not all Mediators are ruled by their cancerous laws. Pomfrey’s a wack job, and citizens are finally revolting. Isn’t that right, Fulvio? That’s what Paniess’s last message said?”

  “Um...yes.” His finger sought the button on the cellular. “I want you all to be aware that I’m turning it on. The signal may or may not reach Tallas, but harboring a guess, Headquarters will detect it, which might put Paniess in grave danger.”

  “Then why do it?” Gus said. “Can’t the Mediators pinpoint our location too?”

  “Their navigational components are somewhat skewed and outdated, and we’ve traveled a significant distance.” His eyes looked toward milky skies with cerulean blue sneaking here and there in the clouds. “It depends on Pomfrey’s resolve.”

  “What’s that mean?” Smelt’s nose flared.

  “How far will Pomfrey order Mediators to travel?” answered a methodical Doogan. “How insane is he to get his hands on deformed people for experiments and, how desperate does he want to capture Fulvio.”

  “Pomfrey wants me only out of pure malice, to watch me hang for treason. You, my son, he needs you.” Fulvio dropped a fatherly hand on his broad shoulder and added pressure. “You’re one of Tallas’s erudite physicians.”

  “Citizens are in good hands with my friend. Rooney’s more than competent.” He brushed off his father’s compliment. “I’m not worried except that he needs help and not from those butchers being trained below the Infirmary.” He speared fingers into his hair sending it into a disorderly riot. “Make the call.”

  Fulvio pressed a button and scrolled a thick finger over the black enamel. “I see Paniess has left a few voice mails.” Unfamiliar with those present, except for Doogan, he fiddled with a procedure and held the cell in the palm of his hand in front of him. “I put it on speaker phone for all to hear.”

  “It’s been three weeks since you left, and the Mediators have suppressed bouts of rebellion.” A hushed female’s voice radiated from the device. “But teenagers are getting bold, and the lashings are almost daily. It’s bad, very bad. When things died down, I heard rumors of Mediators heading south for a reconnaissance mission next week. I’ll keep you informed. Send message time and date. We’ll talk.”

  Prudent expressions decorated the men as they looked at the rectangular device speaking to them. Fulvio said, “Here’s another message.”

  “Eight weeks since you’ve left. Dr. Sese died of pneumonia, leaving ancient Dr. Merkle, who’s on his last legs. I’ve been banished from working at the Infirmary. Obtaining guarded information is almost, but not entirely, impossible. Pomfrey promoted Coot Henshaw to take Basta’s position as Head Mediator. Yesterday, Tallas had its first hanging since Gerbe; the man was accused of treason for breaking into the Infirmary and stealing drugs for his dying son. His son received eight lashes for attacking a Mediator and came down with a horrid infection. Two more citizens have died from infection after being whipped. It’s been chaos and...”—the line went dead.

  “Gentlemen, it looks like Paniess has left us one more message, let’s listen.”

  “Ten weeks—My source said the Mediators recon mission tallied two mutants. They’re being detained below the Infirmary, Doogan remembers that area well. No hope for those poor souls. Three moles have drowned in a quarry. Also beware, supposedly found traces of your trail on a mountain passage. Don’t know how far Pomfrey will voyage to recover people to butcher. Between salvaging and recon and patrolling, the Mediators are wearing thin. A blight destroyed some of the crops and food rationing is at an all-time high.”—static and a pause—“A detrimental side note, two heliocrafts are in the air. Watch your backs and the skies.”

  “First, if we all agree,” Fulvio said, gazing into the eyes of his men, “I will try to call Paniess. If she doesn’t answer, I will leave a brief message, but will not relay where we’re settling. Are we agreed?”

  “Don’t tell her nuttin’,” Smelt groused. “She doesn’t have to know where we are, or what we’re doing.”

  Doogan countered, “We’ll need her help when the time comes.”

  “Come for what?” Smelt’s dark eyes glared at him.

  “Smelt, I explained earlier.” Fulvio’s chest swelled and blew an exasperated breath. “We’ll need to steal into Tallas for medicine and remedial supplies. And we need Paniess and my old friend, Quigley Goshen to help us.”

  “What the fuck—” Smelt’s face reddened. “I thought we just talked about all that medicine crappola. We got tons of it right here.” He jerked his arms in anger.

  “Those meds might not be any good.” Doogan sounded iffy. “We’ll definitely need more.

  “I’m making the call.” Fulvio alerted, bringing their interest to the cellular.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Not everyone thought Keeyla’s idea was brilliant. Among forty-five people, eighteen decided to venture from the security of their mountain toward their future in the valley. Those remaining were handicapped, requiring the conveyance of the helio. And person’s just not willing to follow Keeyla and would wait for Fulvio.

  Keeyla stuffed the last garment, a hand-me-down hoodie in her knapsack and then gazed longingly over the small niche that she shared with Doogan. The bed, a tangled weave of shabby sleeping bags, held passionate memories of being reunited.

  It seemed like yesterday, but it transpired months ago when they’d fled Tallas. Doogan had sacrificed himself and was recaptured by Mediators, giving Keeyla and Fabal a chance to escape into the wilderness. Once captured, he’d been told she was dead.

  Delicious pangs of desire upped her heart rate, remembering a night of vehement hunger. Doogan’s heated breath whispered in her ear. “I thought you were dead. And then in the blinding sunshine I see a resplendent angel riding on a horse over a swell of land toward me.” The nerve-wrecking sojourn apart had enkindled a fire that couldn’t be doused.

  Now, she rolled a sleeping bag for their intended exodus. Then gutted the candle and slipped it into her sack. She grudgingly walked into the main cave where people were packing and saying their farewells to those staying behind.

  Quantities of storage containers and barrels had been divided. Tibbles had been yoked and harnessed to a rather heavily built cart. They looked like a gang of refugees or wandering nomads as they again pulled up stakes. Meager possessions they owned were carried in blankets, knapsacks, and anything transportable.

  An early morning rain shower had dispensed leaving in its wake sludgy clumps of thawing snow. Gripes of sodden feet and clothes were hard-pressed as Tibbles carting a surplus of supplies took the lead. Riding on the beast’s backside, Knox displayed a starched smile. Fabal had witnessed him flinch. It appeared his friend was hurting, though, Knox wasn’t a whiner, and stubborn. He’d tell his mom Knox needed something for pain without causing a scene.

  “The snow’s melting,” Fabal said s
kipping alongside the cart. “It was fun while it lasted.”

  “The weather’s been so weird. It normally doesn’t snow until December, not in October.” Swan plunged a hand into the slush and threw it at him. He dodged the onslaught, giggling.

  “I loved when it snowed in Tallas. Sometimes a few feet.” Fabal looked to Knox keeping him in the conversation. “We’d have a blast after our assignments in the fields building forts and bombing each other with snowballs.”

  “Come January,” Knox said, “the mountain has tons of snow,” Fabal noted for a second time his friend wiggling with a scowl on his face, probably trying to find a comfort zone to ease his sore shoulder. “What are assignments?”

  Swan answered her brother’s question, “Assignments are like chores.”—then looked to Fabal—“Right?”

  “Yep,” Fabal said. “I liked the barns and the animals, but it was stinky mucking the stalls, especially in the summer.” His face screwed up and fanned his fingers in front of his nose like trying to rid a bad stench. “The best was picking berries in the fields. I’d sneak handfuls.”

  “I heard you were going to be trained as a mole and hunt mutants?” Knox raised his right arm splaying ten fingers though grinned. He spiked those fingers into his lengthy hair and flipped it over his shoulder. “And did citizens really believe people like us have contagious diseases?” His tone paired with irony.

  “Knox,” Swan said, chagrined. “We already talked about this. He didn’t know—”

  “Moles are just little kids,” Fabal chimed in, “that can squirm into tiny holes to search for water. At least that’s what I thought. I really didn’t know about them hunting for people with …” He didn’t know what word to use, then said, “Disabilities.”

  “Disabilities—!” Knox slashed the air with a flippant arm. “That’s a new one. Citizens call us diseased mutants.”

  “That’s absurd.” Eavesdropping and out of breath, a rifle-touting Keeyla had sprinted the yardage to issue the children a caveat. “Not all have that preposterous mindset.” Catching her breath while still walking she warned, “The guys are taking the lead. We’re heading into the woodlands, and we don’t know what to expect. Just be on the lookout for any strange creatures.” For the first time, she touched the bears dense pelt to get his attention. “If you smell anything funky let us know.” Tibbles inelegantly snorted and bobbled his head in reply; bumbling Knox enough that his arm jet forward, ten fingers circled the yoke for stability.