Extinction: Planet Urth, #6

by Jennifer Martucci

  Two heavily-armed men have slowly made their way to the fray, inching their way little by little. Arundel waves a hand at them feebly. “I’m alright Jonah. You and Zachariah can stand down.”

  “Who are you?” I demand of the two men without wasting time prattling idly.

  “We’re Arundel’s guards,” the man to whom Arundel referred as Jonah says. Jonah is tall and thickly built but looks soft rather than muscular. His torso is shaped like a barrel while his arms and legs are thin. I’ve never seen a man or woman so oddly shaped. The other man, Zachariah, is built similarly only far shorter.

  “Attack me,” I order them.

  Jonah and Zachariah look at each other, exchanging confused glances. “Uh, what?” Jonah asks.

  “You’re both Arundel’s guards, right?” I say.

  “Yes,” Jonah replies.

  “Then show me what you’ve got. Show me how you’d protect your leader if he were under attack.”

  The men do not budge.

  “I’ve just killed the man three times. Come at me. Now!” I command.

  Their gazes lower to Arundel’s prone form on the ground. He nods and directs them. “What are you waiting for? Attack the girl!” he says.

  They lumber toward me, swinging, as though they’ve never held a sword before. I spin, blocking each blade. Dodging them, it’s as if they’re moving in slow motion. I’m able to position myself behind Jonah in the space of a breath and drag my blade across his throat. “Dead!” I shout before I step toward Zachariah. He’s already sweating profusely and looks as though the effort of swinging his weapon is too taxing or may be his demise. Nevertheless, I block an awkward swing, which seemed aimed at my shoulder and jab my blunt blade into his rotund belly. He doubles over and I seize the opportunity to connect my practice sword with his neck. “Dead. Your head would be gone,” I say.

  Both Jonah and Zachariah drop their swords and hold their hands up in surrender. But my demonstration is not over yet.

  I turn my head and look at June. “Can you please show them how arrows should be shot in order to protect a village?”

  June nods. “It would be my pleasure,” she says. She reaches behind her back, retrieving an arrow from her quiver and nocks it in her bowstring. My sister is a great distance from the targets at the perimeter of the square, yet she manages to dart left, dashing with agility that defies gravity, rolling and popping up to one knee then firing her arrow. The shrill whistle of it carving the air screams through the atmosphere before it lodges in the painted center of the bullseye. She dives forward, summersaulting and springing to her feet, standing then fires again. The second arrow hits the first one, splitting it in half. Finished with her demonstration, she turns to me and the crowd that has gathered and now stands with their mouths agape and curtsies. She then glowers at Arundel.

  “Thank you, June,” I say lovingly with a smile. I turn to face Arundel. Addressing him, I say, “I believe we little-girl soldiers in the human army have sufficiently showcased our skills.” I smile at him. The smile is pure spite.

  “Arundel, we should absolutely listen to everything these soldiers have to say,” Colin says.

  Someone in the crowd calls out, “Yeah!” in agreement. Before long, several more shout. Within moments, thunderous applause erupts and our names are carried on the cheers.

  Although I feel unworthy of applause or any recognition after all that has happened to my people, a degree of satisfaction does course through my veins watching the look of defeat Arundel wears. I feel confident he will never call me “liar” or “girl” again.

  Chapter 12

  Standing amid what has grown to be a large gathering of people, my cheeks burn with awareness. Awareness of my sudden arrival here. And what I’ve done. I’ve just humiliated the leader of this village and his guards. Though that wasn’t my express intent and I was provoked, the end result was the same. And now, the abrasive, self-righteous head of this place has been brought to his knees. His hair, once as white as freshly-fallen snow, is soiled, and his wrinkled complexion is tinted crimson, marred by shame and annoyance. Though momentarily disgraced, deep in the marrow of my bones, I sense that Arundel will recover. But will his people? Will Lucas, who was kind and trusting enough to bring me here?

  A flash of panic bolts through my system. Though I don’t regret standing up for myself or proving the point Arundel refused to hear, a small spark of worry flares. That worry is dispelled, however, when Cassidy, Lucas’s mother, smiles at me with not only approval but another emotion that borders on pride. Her eyes are the color of the land. The soft brown of the earth. The green of trees and grass. The blue of the sky and the soft gold of the sun. Warmth glows in her hazel gaze. I haven’t been looked upon with such warmth since my own mother looked upon me, and that feels like a lifetime ago. My heart clenches. I want to look away. To jerk my head and break the connection, the invisible line between this woman whom I’ve just met and who’s perhaps only a decade older than me, and stare at my feet. But something makes me pause as an answering familiarity flutters desperate wings in my chest. Cassidy resembles my mother. My mother’s image is branded clearly and indelibly in my memory. Time has not faded it. And sometimes, in the darkest, predawn hours of night, I realize time hasn’t faded the pain of losing her either. Life allots each of us one mother. I was fortunate enough to be born to her, and had the privilege of learning she was the kindest, gentlest, bravest, fiercest, most self-sacrificing human being I’d ever met. She gave her life for me. I live because of her.

  “You must be exhausted,” Cassidy says. Her voice is smooth and mellifluous. “Please, come with us and rest.” Her tone reaches out to me like wispy tendrils tracing the back of my neck. Fatigue has permeated every cell in my body. Exhaustion taxes my muscles so heavily I wonder how I swung my sword earlier. And nostalgia tugs at the strings of my heart, making me yearn for a time when I was sheltered by my parents’ love.

  “Yes,” Ara rises up onto her tiptoes and chimes in. “You can rest in my hut. Their hut smells like a foot.” She gestures among Lucas, Pike and Kohl.

  I stifle a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand.

  “Hey!” Kohl says. His wide, expressive eyes twinkle with playfulness. “I’ll give you a foot to smell!” He makes a move as if he’s going to lift his leg and place it near her face. “Didn’t get to wash last night either.” He laughs.

  I feel my cheeks redden as the laughter becomes harder to contain.

  Ara raises her hands to chest height, warding him off as she scrunches her features. “Eww! Gross! No thanks!”

  “I was out walking around all day so you can give my feet a sniff if you’d like when you’re done with his,” Lucas jokes.

  “Yeah. Mine, too,” Pike adds.

  “Yuck! You guys are so gross!” Ara protests.

  “Oh I wouldn’t say too much if I were you, Ara,” Colin says. “Especially since you’ll be bunking with them tonight.”

  “And our feet.” Kohl grins impishly.

  Ara slaps a hand to her forehead. “Oh, brother,” she sighs.

  “Oh brothers is more like it,” Cassidy says with a laugh.

  “Mom, do I really have to stay with them tonight?” Ara turns and looks at her mother pleadingly. “Can’t I stay with Avery and June?”

  “Avery and June are our guests. I’m sure their journey hasn’t been an easy one and they need some peace,” Cassidy says and runs a hand down Ara’s hair, a single, loving stroke.

  “Haha, see that? Mom said they need peace that’s why you can’t stay. In other words you’d be a pain in the butt.” Pike raises his brows at Ara and nods.

  Though Pike’s words were taunting, his tone was good-humored and without malice, Ara still whirls on him. With eyes narrowed, she plants fisted hands on her hips and glares at him. “No, I wouldn’t and that’s not how Mom meant it!” she snaps.

  “Whoa, Ara,” Pike holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I was only playing. Sheesh.”

 
; Ara’s expression softens. She smooths her hands down the front of her shirt. “I know.” She clears her throat. “Avery and June need to rest.”

  “Yeah, and if Avery bunked with us, we’d want to ask her a million questions about her, this place, everything,” June chimes in.

  June’s words cause Ara’s face to brighten and a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. Ara works hard to contain it, but can barely hide the joy in her expression. I have no idea what it’s like to have one brother, let alone three brothers, one of whom is a twin. I’d imagine it has its challenges at times. Particularly since she is the only girl in the family, apart from her mother. The fire in her seems to be fueled by both an inborn drive and the external force. That external force being her need to prove herself to her brothers. I admire both.

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Colin says with a wink over Ara’s head. “Not when we have so many questions for you. So much to learn about you and the world beyond this forest.”

  “Thank you for letting us stay,” I reply. “We need rest, for sure. And we’ll tell you everything there is to tell about life beyond this forest, though I’m afraid there’s nothing good to share anymore.”

  In my periphery, Arundel looks as though he might pipe up and protest the offer that’s been extended to us. He parts his lips fleetingly then clamps them shut as if he’s thought otherwise.

  Colin’s expression remains unchanged, as does Cassidy’s. Ara gestures to June and I, waving us forward as she begins walking. “Come on. Follow me. I’ll take you to my hut.”

  An involuntary smile tilts the corners of my mouth upward. There is a quality about Ara, a light within her that glows brightly and warms me. I can’t help but smile. She bounds ahead of us, turning at times and walking backward as she points out the various places we pass and explains the function of each. We follow the stone path as it winds its way between squat structures until we reach a section comprised of huts. Composed of a stone base and a thatched roof, the huts are small and closely spaced. When we’ve almost reached the end of the path and run out of huts to pass, Ara stops.

  “This is mine,” she says. She pushes open a door made of branches tied together tightly and trimmed to form a rectangle that perfectly seals the entrance. Beyond it, three beds of straw rest along the perimeter. “You guys can sleep in whichever bed you like. I usually sleep in that one.” She points to the one in the farthest corner of the room. I can’t tell whether she’d rather we steer clear of it or honored if one of us sleeps in it. “Come on in.” She steps over the threshold and ushers us inside. She inhales deeply. “Smell that?” she asks.

  I inhale and immediately smell lavender and rose. “I do,” I say. “Is it lavender and rose?”

  “Yes!” Ara bounces and claps her hands in front of her chest.

  “I don’t see any flowers though,” June says.

  This causes Ara’s smile to broaden. “Nope. My secret is that I dry the flowers and sprinkle the petals around. If you look closely, they’re hidden around here.”

  “That’s fantastic,” June says. “What a great idea!”

  “It really is,” I agree. “And from what I heard back there, maybe your brothers could use some sprinkled around their room.” I wink at her.

  Ara’s eyes dance with merriment. “I’ve tried! But that stench needs more than dried flowers to mask it! Three boys. Six feet. I could put a bucket of roses, lavender, peonies, daisies, marigolds and lemon grass in their room and it would still smell like a foot.”

  I laugh aloud and June does, too. When the laughter calms, June yawns.

  Noticing, Ara takes it as a cue to leave. “You guys are exhausted. I’ll leave you to get some sleep and see you later.”

  “Thank you so much for letting us stay in your hut,” I say. She and her family have been not only welcoming and kind, but generous, as well.

  “You’re welcome,” she replies with a sweet smile. “I’ll see you soon.” She parts with a small wave then closes the door.

  Left alone inside the small hut that is fragranced by dried lavender and rose pedals, I look at June. She allows her body to collapse onto the closest bed of straw. Her shoulders slump and, with her elbows resting on her knees, her head drops into her hands. “I can’t remember being this tired,” she says. Her voice is slightly muffled by her hands. “I’m sure I was, but it’s been such a long time.”

  “I know. Me, too.” I nod. “Ten years of peace and not fleeing every place we find, being on the run, is a long time. I got used to sleeping at night. Well, before I had John and Will,” I add quickly. Becoming a mother of twins meant that every day was one long day with little naps here and there for the first three years. I’d rip my heart from my chest still beating to hold them right now. To hold them both in my arms and know they’re safe. Heavy-hearted, I heave a sigh that comes from somewhere deep inside my aching chest.

  “Yeah, you didn’t sleep much at all after they were born.” June lifts her head. Her smile is bittersweet.

  Thin beams of light filter through the small window. Still in the east, the sun is not yet overhead, therefore midday is not yet upon us. The thatched roof, layered with straw and rushes woven so intricately I’m positive it guards against the elements, does not allow for any sunlight to penetrate.

  “No, I didn’t.” I shake my head and envision their tiny infant bodies. The faces they’d make. The sounds and how I came to learn them all. “And I didn’t really sleep soundly since.” I shrug. “I guess that’s what Mom and Dad always meant when they said ‘once you become a parent, you never really sleep again’.”

  “I don’t remember Mom saying that, but I remember Dad saying it.” June was very young when our mother was killed by the Urthmen. Her memories are few. At times I envy her for that. Sometimes remembering hurts too much. It punctuates the pain. The loss. The absence of someone for whom hope of reunion doesn’t even exist.

  “I bet,” I say of the remembrance of our father. He was so many things. An excellent swordsman, a skilled tracker and hunter, honest and patient were just a few. He worried about June and I. And we were always in sight. The worry I feel for my own sons is overwhelming.

  As if reading my mind, June says, “Avery, we’re going to be okay. We’ll find them—John, William, and Sully. We’ll find them. Alive.” Her eyes meet mine, resolute and clear.

  I nod feebly.

  “But we need our strength. We need to rest so we can get out of this forest and find them.”

  I sit on the bed of straw beside her. “You’re right,” I say. I swing my legs around, extending them, and lie back. As soon as my head is even with my body, exhaustion claims me. I feel as if I’m being rocked, though I know the bed is still. Within seconds, deep, dark oblivion reaches out to me with its velvety embrace, and I fall fast asleep.

  The sun no longer shines in the east and the earliest hints of dusk tint the sky, turning it from a brilliant cobalt blue to a cornflower blue banded with lavender wisps. I bolt upright. In the bleary seconds just after waking, I forget what’s happened. I forget the Peace Treaty has been broken and that my husband and children are gone. That my people are dead. It comes rushing back to me. Fresh and raw. It returns.

  Breaths short and shallow, I wipe the dampness from my brow. It takes a moment to collect myself before I decide to wake June. I tap her foot and she rouses. It takes her eyes a moment to focus and when they do, they widen. “Where are we?” she asks. She sits upright.

  “We’re in a village in the Great Forest,” I remind her.

  Focus returns to her eyes and her features relax. The crease between her brows smooths. “Oh. I sleep so deeply.” She sits up slowly. “I don’t even remember dreaming. Just...nothing. And then this.” She rubs her temples.

  A soft knock at the door draws our attention to it. “Come in,” I say.

  The door opens, revealing a sliver of light and Lucas’s voice asks, “Is it okay if I come in?” The light grows brighter slowly. “It’s Lucas.”
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  “Of course,” I reply. “It’s your home. Well, technically it’s your sister’s,” I fumble. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  Lucas chuckles. “Oh, everyone knows this is Ara’s hut. I’d probably take an arrow to the behind if she knew I was in here without her.” His eyes widen and sparkle with amusement. I also think he’s only half kidding.

  Soft laughter is shared among us. When it stops, Lucas clears his throat. “Are you guys feeling any better?” he asks.

  I want to tell him that waking with the fresh reminder of what happened made me feel worse, and so did sleeping only a few hours. “Not sure yet,” I respond. It’s the closest possible answer to the truth I can give. “I feel kind of beat up. I’d probably need to sleep for three days to feel rested.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” he replies.

  “You know we can’t. But thank you,” I say somberly.

  “You need to find your kids and your husband.” Lucas nods. The act and his tone of voice are a grave combination.

  “Yes, I do,” I agree.

  “Then the best I can offer is that you sleep the night through and then we can leave at first light. But first you need to eat. It’s almost dinnertime.”

  “We are leaving at first light,” June says and gestures between she and I. “Just Avery and I.”

  “And me. I’m coming, too,” Lucas announces.

  “No, you’re not,” June answers immediately.

  For a moment, Lucas is speechless and looks as if he’s been slapped.

  “But I—” he starts when finally he finds his words.