Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Tanya, appearing frazzled, spindly hair sticking out every which way, said to Keeyla, “We should’ve taken Fulvio’s route to the bottom of the mountain instead of this way.”

  “You’re right. I think Garth and Clayton are making a big mistake.” Keeyla called over her shoulder, “Hey, Garth.”

  The two men had been handing out orders in the rear and slowly sprinted in line with Keeyla. “Yes, Mam. What can we do for you?”

  “We both think it’d be better if we stay the course.” Keeyla expressed; brow rumpled. “Fulvio made that map for a good reason. We should stick to it.”

  “That’s because he was making a course to the city, remember. We’re cutting the trek in half by crisscrossing this side of the mountain.” Garth shouldered his rifle. “Fulvio essentially charted the exact location of the valley. He was explicit, and it seemed somewhat rudimentary.”

  “What’s that? Rudimen...” Tanya said.

  “Rudimentary means simple, easy.” Keeyla double-stepped to match their strides. Peering hard at the men, she said, “I don’t like it.”

  “Whatcha mean, you don’t like it?” Clayton used the length of his forearm to wipe his dirty face.

  “I just feel that if Fulvio wanted us to cut across the mountain, he would’ve mapped it out that way. I sense…” She hesitated. “Danger.”

  The men harmoniously chuckled.

  “You women are all alike.” Garth patted his rifle. “We know how to use these firearms. Don’t we Clayton?”

  “Yes, sir.” Clayton agreed. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads.”

  “Fulvio mentioned—” Garth itched his neck, seemingly pondering. “Go past the final jagged cusp, take a direct right and head north. You can’t miss it.”

  “That’s what we mean...” Tanya swept a finger along the rim of her nose. “We’re not following his route; we could bypass it. And we don’t know the lay of the land like he does.”

  Keeyla’s eyes skirted past Tanya to the sky above, giving a heedful nod. What she hadn’t foreclosed was Fulvio’s cautionary diatribe of atrocious things that would more than likely follow them wherever they settled.

  “After we pass through these trees we’ll take a break and regroup,” Clayton said. His linear markings of white and black and ropes of curlicue hair in similar fashion jittered as he talked. “We have to get our bearings. We can’t get lost.”

  “I hope you’re making the right decision,” Keeyla said, her tone tenacious. “Fabal means everything to me. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  Unzipping her hoodie, she heard a giggling shriek and uncontained laughter. She pirouetted in place and browsed the mangled nomads traipsing in a caravan configuration. “All that noise will bring hungry creatures I’d rather not see.” Neither aspiring to provoke dissension among the ranks or to arouse certain arcane beasts prowling in the woodlands, she said to Tanya, “Go tell them to be quiet. Any reprimanding coming from me might be taken the wrong way. And ask the men to head up front just in case we need them with this cart.”

  An indignant, Arrff, Arrff—exuded from Tibbles like help was the last thing he needed.

  “They know better,” Tanya said, the creases across her forehead became more pronounced than usual. “All these years hiding like common mice, they shouldn’t be tramping through the woods like trumpeting elephants.”

  “I’ll go and ask everyone to keep quiet.” Fabal dunked his hand into his large pocket and juggled rocks he’d been picking up along the way.

  “I’ll go with him,” Swan chirped.

  “We’ve already discussed being prepared for all kinds of weirdness.” Keeyla shuddered recalling their first journey through the wetlands and the gigantic three-headed serpent. Its yellow eyes with black starburst pupils and dagger-like fangs would be forever ingrained in her memory. She added an afterthought to her wandering son, “Make sure they have weapons ready.”

  Fabal’s eyes rolled high in their sockets. “Mom, I know what you’re thinking about—that snake.”

  “That was no ordinary snake.”

  “I’ll give you that.” He licked his lips and made circular motions on his belly. “But we ate pretty good that week.”

  “Get going you little minx.” She smiled and flashed a frivolous hand in his direction, then turned her sights to the implacable woodland ahead.

  Advancing into dire shadows, she felt instantly chilled. Glimpsing over her shoulder people hushed one another into tenuous silence. On the brink of crossing the threshold she sidestepped, letting Tibbles funnel a pathway.

  Leaving behind a slate-colored sky, they trooped onward deflecting viney thatches and rope-like vines. What first struck her was the putrid odor of stagnant, decomposing timber. Defeating the purpose of furtiveness, Keeyla recoiled with the clamorous swishing and snapping of twigs and whatnot, penetrating layers of gloom.

  She wondered why the beastly bear had slowed and detected the sporadic clunk, clunk of the carts wheels. Trundling over an amalgamation of roots, making passage laborious. Did her eyes deceive her? A gnarly root threaded the wheel spoke, coiling like a snake.

  “Stop!” She raised her rifled arm as a forewarning.

  A progression of people rustling and speaking in low undertones terminated as they crowded around the cart.

  “Sh-h-h...” Tanya hissed.

  Like diverse effigies, no one moved, except for their eyes, ping-ponging from tree to tree and person to person. When nothing was seen nor heard breaths of relief buzzed around them.

  “What do you hear?” Keeyla cranked her head to Garth, who flanked her left side and then looked toward the rear end where Clayton was standing.

  “Nothing,” Garth’s tone hushed.

  “That’s odd don’t you think?” Keeyla whispered. Swerving her head to examine the silent forest. “Where’s the birds? Where’s the animals? We’re intruding their turf.”

  Transitory relief dissolved into qualms of tensing body language. Feet shuffled as people canvassed the area.

  “I hear something-like-like a crackled slithering,” Clayton said. “Do you hear it?”

  “Look at the wheels.” Keeyla gasped in awe at the encasing roots. “I’ve seen this happen before, at Three Rocks.”

  “They’re alive.” Fabal wrung his hands, noticing the problem. “They’ll tie you up if you’re not careful.”

  Keeyla saw Fabal tremble. He must’ve been remembering his violent struggle through an underground tunnel to rescue Knox, an undertaking that almost claimed her son’s life.

  “Hack the roots,” Fabal said as he retrieved his jackknife. “We have to keep moving.”

  A siren wailed from above. A warmonger with a huge wingspan lunged and twirled. The curved beak parted, emitting a second numbing screech. It appeared to be targeting Knox. When suddenly a thistle vine whipped and lashed the warmonger. The spiraling vine stunted a strangled protest, gobbling the fowl whole.

  “What in tarnation was that?” someone exclaimed.

  “C’mon, cut the roots holding the wheel. Hurry!” Extracting her ten-inch blade, Keeyla knelt to the ground. “Garth, you almost got my finger. Watch it.”

  “Sorry, Keeyla. These roots are tough buggers.”

  She spied her son cutting vines on the opposite wheel. “Fabal, be careful.”

  A resonating squeal had Keeyla springing to her feet. And witnessed one of the mutants, a three-legged lady being garroted and winched upward, her legs thrashing. The thistle vine acted like a crane, propelling the woman faster and faster toward a ravenous void. Vanishing in the foliage, her besieging cries dwindled and those watching, panicked.

  “Whoever has a blade get them out, be ready,” Clayton shouted over terrorized cries. “Stay in a close-knit circle. Don’t run amok They’ll pick us off one by one.”

  Too late of a suggestion, a teenage boy went hurtling to locate the sun. “Trank! Trank! Come back!” An unrealistic spectacle developed as the boy was latched upon, swinging to and fro and di
sappeared into the heavens.

  Tibbles roared, knocking them to their senses. Plowing claws into the root ridden ground, he tugged and pulled, juddering from the exertion. Astride the mighty bear Knox angled forward, urging him on. “You can do it, boy. C’mon Tibbles, you can move this sucker.”

  Men and women bellied up to the cart and pushed from the rear and the sides. Sounds of strained physical force emanated from their mouths. Red soaked faces bloated to a bluish-purple, veins bulged, and shoulders heaved. Rewarded for their toiling labor, roots splintered liberating the wheels.

  The cart jolted in a release, instead of taking off like a bat in hell, Tibbles hesitated. His immense neck curved to look behind him; beady black eyes seemed to be searching for something or someone. Innate guttural grunting spewed from his muzzle, “Roorth. Rrarth...”

  “I’m here. We’re coming.” Fabal and Swan broke through the maze of people. Several hands assisted them onto the bear. Swan knotted her arms around Knox’s waist, and Fabal bored fingers into blue tinged fur. “Ready. Go, Tibbles.”

  “Run—run!” Keeyla commanded.

  Hoeing paws into the ground the yoked harness bit into Tibbles neck and shoulders yanking his cargo. One final heave, the wheels shot forward fragmenting entangling roots, they were off. The children, hanging on for dear life watched for clinging vines. Those left behind observed the carts progression for a microsecond prior to following.

  “Stick together,” Garth yelled. “Be alert and don’t go swinging blades around and cutting off your neighbors head, understand?”

  Roots wrestled through the hard-pack soil like squiggly snakes, coiling onto anything and everything. A man’s high-pitched plea stopped Keeyla in her tracks. Belting around, she saw roots lassoing his ankles, he fell. Woody protrusions quickly wound the man’s body as his arms stretched, seeking help. A few noble people attempted to hew and cleave his bindings only to have snake-like roots invade their legs. The poor man would be entombed forever in a woody grave.

  Fear impaled them.

  Keeyla fled, dodging and leaping over predatory limbs. Her booted toe nicked a mushrooming root impelling her into a nosedive. Simultaneously a suspended vine swooped in to swallow her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Fulvio’s index finger danced over the cellular, keying in numbers, then held the device near his chin. Listening to a static ring, a beep sounded. “Unable to contact sooner,” he spoke into the cell. “We’re safe for the moment. No sign of Mediators. Will call tomorrow at high noon.” He touched the lighted screen and gazed into the eyes of his son. “Pomfrey wouldn’t publically punish his daughter.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past the bastard.” Doogan raked fingers over his chest. “He might. To prove he has no limits, intimidating and scaring citizens to comply to his will.”

  Fulvio didn’t have a rebuttal; he knew the Elite well. The egotistical dictator would go to great lengths to achieve his dreams. Changing the topic, he said, “We’ll need more cellulars for times like these when we’re parted from the rest of our party. Paniess will have to pilfer—”

  “If she gets caught stealing,” Doogan cut him off, “I doubt Pomfrey will turn a blind eye. Not a good idea.”

  “My son.” Fulvio granted him a satirical brow. “Paniess has been more than proficient over the years than you’ll ever know.” He palmed a hand in the air halting his son’s dissent. “I kept you in the dark for personal reasons.” He cleared his throat, not elaborating.

  Eyeing his father with remorse, his rankled dander abated. During his recent incarceration in the bottom levels of the Infirmary, Paniess had dissolved in a fit of tears and confessed an appalling truth. As hormonal teenagers exploring each other’s bodies, she’d become pregnant. She’d admitted to giving birth to a mutant, which her father supposedly killed.

  Ennis interrupted the rueful undercurrent, “Do we plan on bunking here for another night or what?”

  “I’d like to take a dip in that there lake before dark.” Smelt cuffed a handful of greasy hair behind his ears and looked toward the water.

  “We’d all benefit from a thorough bathing,” Fulvio said, “don’t you think?”

  “I’ll need to catalog the meds to see if one of them might help Gus,” Doogan said. “I’ll go later.”

  “I’ll stay too.” Gus sounded weak, slouching his shoulders. “The three of us can go later. I’m sure she’ll want to get washed up too.” His eyes signaled the girl.

  “Suits me jus’ fine. But who’s gonna drive the truck.” Smelt hiked up his pants. “I’m too tired to walk over yonder.”

  “C’mon, I’ll drive.” Fulvio slipped the cellular into his pocket and snatched his Glock from a mound of bricks. “Let’s go.” Over his shoulder, he said, “We’ll be back, keep a lookout.”

  Fulvio took the wheel with Smelt sandwiched in the middle and Ennis dangling an arm from the window. The blast of the engine frisked a grazing Zennith and Gingersnap. He steered toward the lake through a fertile pasture. The swift stallion followed, cantering with ease leaving in its wake a gamboling Gingersnap.

  For a moment, Doogan watched the departing truck and then picking up his rifle, which he’d learned never to be without and headed toward the heliocraft. Expecting Gus to follow, he turned. “Coming?”

  “I don’t feel so good.” A patina of moisture masked Gus’s face. “I need to lie down.”

  Doogan sped to the wobbly boy and fastened an arm around his back, propping him up. “C’mon kid, let’s get you into a shady area before you pass out.” Gripping the boy’s waist with his other arm, he conducted him to a shady spot. “Stay put. I’ll get you a drink and a compress for that arm.”

  “Yep, I’m not going anywhere.” Gus supported his arm over his waist while elbowing backward into the cool grass, and eventually lying all the way down.

  As Doogan’s pace quickened toward the helio, the girl who’d remained obstinate and uncommunicative had emerged. Extremely wild, coffee colored hair had been plaited, and scuzzy clothes hung from her colt-like frame. The black and blue contusion was healing, giving her a mottled complexion, yet vivid blue eyes peered at him.

  “Does he need water?” Finally speaking, she held the water jug indicating where Gus was lying.

  He wasn’t surprised by her hoarse voice since she hadn’t taken any offered water in days. “Yes, would you mind bringing him some?” He hopped into the helio and dragged two burlap bags to the ground.

  The burlap was saturated, and he heard a tinkling of glass, some vials had been broken. Instead of dumping the contents over the grass, he spread the opening and meticulously withdrew and inspected each label. Pleased with boxes of syringes, tubing, rolls of gauze, suturing kits, alcohol, peroxide and more, vials of penicillin were elusive. Doogan glanced to Gus and the girl before picking through the second bag.

  ***

  “Jane.”

  Hearing a kind voice, Gus’s eyes slit open.

  “My name is Jane.”

  He stared into intense eyes and attempted to smile just as an icy shiver rattled his bones. “C-c-cold,” he succeeded in saying.

  She knelt near his head and poured water into a cup. “Here, drink.”

  Utilizing his two good arms, he buoyed himself up and leaned on his left elbow to grasp the drink. “Thanks.” His hand shook bringing the cup to his mouth sloshing precious water onto his chest.

  “Let me hold it.” Jane covered his shaky hands with hers guiding the rim to his lips.

  “You’re nice and warm,” he said after downing the water.

  “Want more?”

  “No. That’s my ration.”

  “What’d mean ration?” Her head cocked to the side. “You can have more if you want.”

  “No, save it.” Another icy spasm rocked his body. “I...need to lay down, sorry.” Still cradling his bad arm over his waist, Gus turned on his side and curled into a fetal position. He couldn’t control the tremors.

  ***

  Jane r
an to the tall man named Doogan. “He needs a blanket. He’s freezing.”

  “Dammit. He’s going down quick.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Didn’t you see his arm?” He climbed to his feet careful not to disturb his inventory.

  She nodded.

  “Some type of toxic spider bite, and it’s seeping into his system.” He leaned into the helio producing his woolen coat. “It’s all I got. Cover him with it. And this.” He handed her what looked like a rag. “Douse it with water and wrap it over his arm. It might help the swelling. I’m hoping to find something in here to help him.”

  Jane flew to Gus and covered him. As instructed, she held the rag over the jug’s spout, drenching it with cool water. A bit timid, she uncovered him enough to seek his arm.

  Gus jerked at her touch, cracking his eyelids in surprise.

  “Doogan asked me to put this on your arm.” He laboriously uncurled and offered his arm. Being gentle, she wrapped the wet rag over the swollen appendage, and then recovered him with the coat.

  Getting comfortable on the ground and overlapping her legs, she stared at the boy who’d been hassling her for days. Silky brown hair with tints of red feathered over his face like a pall. Her fingers itched to sweep the concealing veil from his cute face. A faint moan parted his mouth and teeth chattered with an oncoming tremor, dark fringed eyelashes fluttered.

  Gus was nothing like the boys she’d been accustomed to—decayed teeth pitted skin, raunchy, and disgusting. During their violent encounter in the city, it was Gus’s disarming eyes that she’d been drawn too. Sweet, sun-kissed honey. She studied his flawless skin and solid chin dotted with whiskers.