Uprising

by J. Thorn

  “The guards have no proof Wyllow killed anyone.”

  She turned to me, the dried tears exposing white, jagged lines that cut through the grime on her face.

  “She didn’t deny it. If she were innocent, she would’ve said so. I think she killed Julyen and Feliz because she knew it would start a riot and give her a chance to escape. She sacrificed my best friend’s life for her freedom and she can’t be trusted. I never should have come along.”

  My chest had begun feeling like a block of ice as she’d spoken. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You can start by admitting that your little witch murdered Julyen.” She hissed, leaning closer. “I won’t kill her because she got us out of that shithole prison, but I’m not taking her back to my village. You gotta choose—me or her.”

  “But I—”

  She cut me short as she leapt from the bench and stomped through the sand toward the silo. Then she yelled over her shoulder.

  “I’m leaving with or without you. But I’m not leaving here with Wyllow.”

  33

  I could almost hear the gentle voice of my grandfather as I sat at the table, my few belongings stuffed in a saddle bag at my feet while I finished writing in one of my journals. I paused for a moment, the pen poised in my hand as I gazed toward the majestic landforms now basking under the morning sun. Wyllow came up behind me and interrupted my thoughts.

  “Hey, whatcha doing?” She slid along the bench next to me.

  Snatching up my journal and a few other notes, I stuffed them into my bag before standing up. Kora and Baylock emerged from the silo.

  “Nothing,” I said as I watched Kora walk right past us and toward the horses without a word. “Time to go.”

  Kora had refused to leave with Wyllow, but what other option did she have? She couldn’t stay with Hersten and couldn’t survive on her own. Baylock had said his goodbyes to Hersten before ducking back into the silo to say farewell to the kids.

  Hersten stood leaning against the silo’s hatch, watching us. I nodded slightly and smiled at him.

  “Thank you for everything.” I offered my right hand to him. “I’m sorry we caused you trouble.”

  He was silent as his eyes dropped to my hand, his smile fading as he grasped my fingers. Then, his watery gaze lifted to mine as he pulled me in for a hug and mumbled. “Godspeed, my young friend.”

  I felt overcome with a bizarre sense of hugging my grandfather, as if his spirit had embodied Hersten for a wondrous, fleeting instant. I pulled away, wanting to smile again but unable to do it.

  “Sounds like something my grandfather would’ve said. What does it mean?”

  “It means, good wishes on your journey, Rayna.”

  I nodded, waving at the kids and turning away before the lump in my throat could betray the strange emotion the old man had stirred within me. All the while, my grandfather’s voice was echoing in my head.

  34

  Wyllow and Baylock rode together, trailing behind Kora and I as the desert highway loomed ahead of us once again. The gentle timbre of Wyllow’s voice occasionally drifted over the clipping sounds of the horse’s hooves plodding along the road, but Kora hadn’t so much as uttered another word.

  As the silence between us thickened, so too did the tension. Even as Kora shifted behind me, her arms around my waist, I could feel her anger burning like the afternoon sun.

  With each mile we travelled, the thoughts spiraling through my mind became suffocating. I thought I needed Kora and Wyllow to raise enough of an army to fight Corvus. Both of their villages would need to join the fight, assuming I even had the chance to ask them. But with Kora set on forcing me to choose between them, I’d only get a shot at one village—no matter what.

  I took a shaky breath as Kora broke her silence for the first time since we’d left the silo.

  “Stop the horse, Rayna.”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Huh? Why?”

  Her fingers dug into my hips and I flinched, shoving an elbow into her ribs.

  “Because I said so. I need a break.”

  “Fine.” I gestured for the others to follow us, stopping the horses near a cluster of wild grass and shrubs.

  As soon as Wyllow had dismounted, Kora was by her side, breathing fire. I braced myself, shooting a look toward a puzzled Baylock.

  Kora pushed a finger into Wyllow’s chest and spoke with the tongue of an enraged demon. “It was you, wasn’t it? You killed Julyen. You are a murderer—a witch preying on the innocent and pretending to be something you’re not.”

  Wyllow’s face reddened, her lips tightening as she took a step back. Her eyes darted to me and Baylock before her gaze returned to Kora.

  “You’re self-righteous and self-involved. An entitled little girl with a sorry attitude.”

  Kora stepped forward and put her finger back into the middle of Wyllow’s chest. “Admit it. You sliced my friend’s throat and left him alone to bleed out on that disgusting prison floor.” She spat, then raised her voice. “Just to instigate a riot so you could escape? Is that all a life is worth to you?”

  I felt Baylock’s hand on my shoulder at the same time that Kora lunged at Wyllow, snarling and clawing at her face.

  “Kora!” I sprinted to her, grabbing one flailing arm as Baylock snagged the other. We pulled her off Wyllow as she thrashed and growled, her mouth foaming with rage.

  “Calm down,” I said, pulling her into my arms until her resistance waned and her breathing settled.

  Kora pried herself from my grip, flashing her palms and squaring her jaw while she stepped back.

  “Okay, okay. I can’t do this anymore. You gotta make a decision now—come with me or go with her.” Kora shoved a thumb toward Wyllow. “I won’t travel another mile with that murdering witch.”

  Wyllow stood back, her face red with scratch marks. I could feel her anxiety wrapping around me like a smothering fog. I recalled the feelings she’d evoked in me that day in Devil’s Hole. The day she’d asked for my trust.

  Soul connections.

  I looked at my boots, turning away and feeling all eyes on my back as I reached for my bag and pulled out one of the notes from my journal that I’d written earlier. I took a deliberate breath before facing them, my fingers curled around the paper as I prayed for the strength to decide.

  Then, I walked to Wyllow and thrust the paper into her hand.

  “I’m sorry.”

  It was all I could manage to say as I turned from her, stalking back to my horse and feeling as if I might crack wide open. I stopped and swayed to one side when I heard what Wyllow said next.

  “I am a murderer. I killed Feliz, but I didn’t kill Julyen.”

  35

  The campfire’s flames held my gaze. I watched as the embers pulsed, sending sparks into the frigid night air. I wished with all my heart that the spirit of the fire would burn away the doubt festering inside of me. The confrontation and then the ultimatum that Kora had presented had left me feeling vacant and weary, and I found it difficult to even look at Kora, let alone talk to her.

  Baylock sat silently next to me, poking at the fire and sipping on some freshly brewed tea.

  Thank God for Baylock.

  His quiet presence seemed to soothe me. Maybe it was because he was Hydran—a memento from home and a reminder of my life before the rebellion and my pledge to stone the Crows. Or, perhaps it was the look in his clear blue eyes when he gazed at me. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to have him with us.

  “You made the right choice. Knew you would. No way you would pick a murdering witch over me. Julyen and I, we took care of you when you first arrived. Protected you from that human cesspool.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, my eyes narrowing. “I hope we gave her enough food and water to get to the next village. Wyllow was my friend, too.”

  “So you think. She couldn’t be trusted. Everything will be okay when we get to my village. We’ll rest, heal, and then talk about yo
ur war with the Crows.”

  “I hope that’s true.”

  Kora grinned. “Of course. I have a good feeling.”

  I sighed, grasping for my bag and pulling out the other note I’d written back at the silo. The brittle paper crackled in my fist as I tossed it into the fire.

  “What was that?” Kora watched the paper ignite into flames.

  I looked at her, my voice even and low.

  “That was the note I’d written for you, had I chosen to ride with Wyllow.”

  She froze, her brows raised as she realized I’d been prepared to go either way, to decide for myself by weighing both options. I wasn’t about to be coerced or strong-armed into any decision.

  Kora stood up and whispered, “I’m going to get some sleep.”

  I gave her a curt nod before turning back to the dancing flames that warmed my face but left my back cold.

  “Rayna?” Baylock said.

  “What?”

  “A storm is coming.”

  “I know. I dream of it every night.”

  He lifted his chin, his ginger lashes golden in the firelight. “Life is funny.”

  I frowned. If life was funny, I’d missed the joke.

  “How so?”

  “I never thought I’d see you again, and yet here we are.” He reached for my hand, gently running his fingers over mine. “I want you to know, no matter what lies ahead, I’ll stick by your side, Rayna. I’ll die for you.”

  I smiled, and for a flashing moment I lost myself in his eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, turning back to the fire as I leaned my head against his shoulder. We both sat there, silently watching the flames fade as the desert’s chill whisked the heat away. Yes, indeed. Baylock felt like home.

  36

  The high desert eventually gave way to dense evergreen forests and deep lakes. The air thinned, growing crisp and clear in a way that renewed our energy. I smiled and gazed toward the snow-capped mountains ringing the horizon. It wasn’t their majestic allure that made my heart skip a beat, although their beauty wasn’t lost on me. Old Oregon reminded me of home.

  Kora’s village came into view as we crested the peak of a mountain. We paused there, the horses’ breath visible in the late morning air as we overlooked a steep gorge that cut through the valley and past the murky green waters of a lake. The small village appeared peaceful, nestled deep within the forest. Smoke drifted from the huts, adding to the blue haze settling across the valley while the laughter of children reverberated off the granite mountains.

  As we dismounted, Kora leapt into the air and squealed.

  “Home!” She ran toward me and slung an arm around my shoulders. Her face flushed as she pointed at the village. “Oh, Rayna. Nothing has changed. It’s been so long since I’ve seen my village.”

  I nodded, glancing at Baylock who was grimacing. My stomach churned as images of my Hydran village flashed through my mind. Corvus had set fire to the village, and that was the last memory I had of it. I had to prepare myself for the return, the possibility that I would be standing inside of a desolate shell in a blackened wasteland.

  Baylock sighed before looking into the valley and swallowing hard, and I knew his thoughts mirrored mine.

  We led the horses down the rocky trail snaking into the gorge. As soon as the mountain slope gave way to level land, Kora mounted her horse and took off toward the village surrounded by a rickety fence and fronted by a gate cobbled together from old, rusted pieces of chain link fence. The breeze whipped at us with her voice as she called over a shoulder.

  “Hurry up, slowpokes!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched her kicking her heels into the old mare, attempting to gather more speed than the horse was willing or able to muster.

  By the time we’d caught up with Kora, she’d dismounted, hollering out as she pushed the gates open. The village unfolded before me and matched the vision I’d had in my mind as we’d looked down into it from the peak above. Blacksmiths stood beneath cloth canopies, sweating grease and hammering steel over a fiery cauldron. A group of women sat on stools in a muddy field, milking a few cows and goats. To the east, several men in a low row of some variety of leafy greens looked up as they harvested one patch of it.

  All eyes turned to Kora as she led the horse through the main road tracking into the village. For a moment, men, women, and children brushed themselves off and rushed to her side, recognizing her grimy face even with her shaved head.

  Baylock and I hung back and watched while it seemed most of the village paused their daily rituals to welcome her back. The villagers surrounded Kora, smothering her with hugs and kind words. Again, I looked at Baylock and his expression matched the nagging doubt in my heart. Would our fellow Hydrans be there to greet us upon our return?

  I couldn’t see Kora, but I heard her voice when the others stopped talking, the crowd parting as a young woman approached. The woman’s long blond hair flowed over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face like a golden halo while wide-set eyes glistened as tears fell down her cheeks.

  Her lips trembled when she spoke. “Kora?”

  “Linn!”

  That’s when I saw Kora again, as she ran from the crowd and flung herself into the woman’s arms, sobbing against her chest.

  Linn’s mouth dropped until she mustered more words. “What happened? We thought you were dead.”

  “I was hunting beyond the old barley fields when some traders must have seen me from the road. They hit me over the head and I woke up in a cage on my way to a slave market in the Nevada territory.”

  Others crowded around as Kora continued to rattle through the details of her abduction.

  I felt a flutter in my chest and smiled, putting my hand up to my mouth. The love between the two women hit me with an undeniable power, making me feel elated and heartbroken at the same time. But when I looked at Baylock, I felt guilty for having those feelings. Watching Kora greet her loved ones was even harder for him. He had lost more than I ever had—his parents dead and the fate of his twin brothers unknown.

  I brushed my hand across the back of his neck, feeling his warm skin under the morning sun. He continued looking down at his feet.

  “Baylock?”

  He lifted his chin and looked at me. His darkened eyes clouded over any semblance of a smile, although he did his best to form one, probably thinking it would make me feel better.

  I didn’t push it as my eyes locked onto his. I couldn’t erase what had happened, but I could try to ease his pain. So, I took a step and faced him. Then I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into me, feeling his heart beat against mine. He leaned back and pushed me away—slightly.

  “I’m not a hugger.” He laughed, his face blushing. But he didn’t let me go.

  I laughed back at him and broke the embrace, lightly punching him in the shoulder as Kora and the young woman walked up to us, smiling and with their hands clasped.

  “Rayna and Baylock.” Kora gestured at the woman. “Meet Linn. My sister.”

  Linn greeted us with a warm smile, offering a curtsy that seemed reminiscent of the Crow women in the Nest. The polite gesture hit me like a phantom pain—and not one I could explain. I was thankful that the uncomfortable feeling didn’t show on my face, or if it did that Linn ignored it.

  “Come, hand your horses to the stablehands.” Linn’s angelic face darkened. “Much has befallen our village in Kora’s absence.”

  37

  Homes stood patched and frail, worn with time and sagging toward the ground in sheets of brick and plaster. The village children scampered in the muddy cart tracks, wearing torn clothes and ripped shoes, dirt smeared across their faces. The pungent odor of human waste, leached chemicals, and algae hung over the village like a stormcloud as Linn led us closer to the lake’s shore. Kora’s village looked—and smelled—much better from the mountains above it.

  Linn paused before the largest shack in town, turning to us with a smile.


  “This is Saul’s place. Our village leader. He will be pleased to see you, Kora.” Linn looked around before lowering her voice. “But there’s also some serious business we need to discuss.”

  She ushered us up a short flight of stairs and onto a porch, its old, warped timber groaning under our weight as she knocked lightly on the door before twisting the handle and pushing it open.

  “Saul?” Her golden hair fell across her face as she called out and peered into the darkened room. “May we enter?”

  A deep grumble preceded a violent throat clearing. Footsteps followed, the staccato sound of three things thumping on the floor. I frowned and braced myself. It sounded as if a monster was about to emerge from the shadows, and given my experience with village leaders, I figured that the thought was probably not too far off from the truth.

  It wasn’t the stark white shirt or the walking cane that captured my attention, though. It was the feisty spark in his sunken, brown eyes, the locks of dark hair framing his face and his sallow skin. He stood tall and gallant, yet grizzled around the edges and dourly handsome.

  His brooding stare settled on Kora before his greying whiskers revealed a wry grin.

  “We thought you were dead, my wildcat.”

  “So did I. More than once.” Kora walked into his outstretched arms and squeezed him tight. “I was taken while hunting. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  As he held Kora, Saul looked at me and Baylock. His stare held me shackled in place and I thought I heard Baylock sigh.

  “Not only alive, but bringing trouble back home with you, I see?”

  Kora stepped back, gesturing at us.

  “Ah, no… This is Rayna, and Baylock. Rayna saved my life. Got me out of the prison. They’re good people, Saul.” Her eyes softened as she looked at me. “I am in debt to Rayna. That’s why I’ve brought her here.”

  He grinned and the dark room seemed to be illuminated. I began to fidget under his gaze as I felt my face flushing.