by Pam Brondos
Its eyes grew wide until they seemed to engulf the top half of its head. “Sister!” it screamed as it writhed on the smooth gravel. Its arms uncontrollably slammed into the hilt of the dagger, driving it deeper into its abdomen. It flipped and twisted like a fish on a riverbank until it twitched only slightly, then didn’t move at all.
Nat pushed herself up onto her elbows. The only sound was water rushing by and her frantic breathing. The Nala lay motionless, curled in a fetal position around the dagger. A sharp pain shot down her shoulder. She struggled to her feet, ran to Soris, and cradled his head in her lap. A bloody half circle of punctures covered his left collarbone. His pulse was wild. She pulled her fingers away from his neck. She frantically glanced upstream, and her eyes fell on the Nala. She gently placed Soris’ head on the gravel and reached for the crossbow. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to reload and the arrow dropped to the ground. She retrieved it and jammed it into the casing.
Her boots ground into the gravel, the sound growing louder as she approached the motionless blue creature. She aimed the crossbow at its chest and kicked its shoulder, pushing it flat on the ground. The creature flopped over, its pointed arms angled out like a v. She knelt down, trying to keep the crossbow steady. The dagger made a sucking sound when she pulled it from its abdomen. Prodding it with her feet, she rolled the body down the bank into the river. She grabbed a worn branch and stepped into the cold water. She pushed the Nala toward the fast current in the middle of the river. The tip of the branch ripped the skin on the creature’s back. The flowing water caught its head and flipped the Nala around. It floated feetfirst downstream. Nat dropped the branch and walked onto the bank, the bottom of her cloak dripping with water.
“Soris.” His bite was now encircled in a sickly blue. She replaced the ripped flap of fabric and pressed her hand against the wound. “Soris, you’ve got to wake up.” He lay motionless in her lap. The branches of the trees lining the riverbank swayed as a light wind rippled across the river. Nat saw movement everywhere. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut it out. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Soris, wake up, please,” she pleaded.
The treetops were still when she opened her eyes. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. She knew she couldn’t leave him on the bank, just as she knew he was too heavy for her to carry very far. They’d seen a small cottage in the valley with the sheep. She had to find someone to help her. She crouched behind Soris and wrapped her arms under his armpits. Looking over her shoulder every few seconds, she pulled him under the cover of the trees. His heels dug into the gravel, making crooked grooves. He rested under a cluster of ferns, covered by wide fronds. She wanted him farther from the river, but her breathing was strained and her shoulder felt like a hot poker was permanently lodged in the muscle.
She returned to the riverbank and retrieved her weapons and bag. The groove marks disappeared as she smoothed mud and rocks over them. She then wrapped a strip of linen around Soris’ bite. His face remained expressionless. She tucked the water flask and a dagger under his good arm. If he woke up, what was he going to think?
She pulled Barba’s orb from her cloak and stared at its opaque surface. “Stay with him,” she ordered. “Keep him here until I get back.” The orb bobbed slightly, then settled near his face. Nat rearranged the fronds until she was satisfied, then took off running through the forest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The cottage was on the other side of a low stone fence that separated two pastures at the bottom of the valley. The sheep she’d seen earlier in the day passed through an open gate. A shepherd on horseback, pushing a few straggling sheep toward the fence, emerged from behind a little knoll. He paused.
Nat frantically waved her arms above her head. “Help! I need help.”
The shepherd kicked the chestnut-colored horse and rounded the remaining sheep through the open gate. She stepped back as a matted guard dog sped toward her with the shepherd not far behind. The dog halted and let out a low growl. Its black eyes were nothing but suspicious and threatening. She didn’t move and looked at the ground. She’d met her share of livestock dogs and knew better than to try to placate the animal.
The shepherd pulled his horse up short next to the dog. His patched gray tunic was the same shade as his beard. “Hush,” he bellowed as he dismounted. The dog, now silenced, sat obediently on its haunches next to the horse. The man stood between Nat and the animal, eyeing her with the same suspicion as his dog.
“I need—”
“Walk toward my horse,” he said. “Slowly.”
“What?” Nat asked.
“Walk toward my horse and touch her nose. Do it now,” he commanded and stepped to the side, holding the reins loose. Another low growl erupted from the dog.
Frustrated with the request, Nat took two quick steps. The dog’s ears flattened.
“Slowly.” He stood with his arms crossed. A long dagger hung from a worn, braided belt tied around his waist.
“My friend and I were attacked in the forest,” she said as she slowed her pace and extended her hand, palm down, toward the horse, exposing her markings.
“Attacked?” the man asked as he leaned forward to examine her arm.
“By a Nala.” The horse nudged her hand. She placed her palm gently on the mare’s sweaty neck and cautiously stroked her.
“Nala.” The man spat at the ground. “I should have known. Ris and my horse have been on edge all morning.” He gestured to his dog. Ris quieted at the sound of the old man’s voice. “Is your friend dead, Sister?” he asked abruptly.
“No, he’s not. After I killed the Nala—”
“You killed it?” The man tightened his grip on the reins.
“It attacked me and then my friend,” she said defiantly. “It bit my friend, and he won’t wake up. I couldn’t carry him away on my own. I left him hidden in the forest.” The words spilled from her as the man mounted his horse and extended a rough hand. She grabbed it and swung herself up behind him.
“I’ve had word that the Nala were pushing in from the east,” he said over his shoulder as they rode toward the forest. “Since your like left, the vermin are spreading through this region. Six months ago, one bit my neighbor’s daughter before we could chase it off.” He was silent as they ducked into the forest. Ris wove in and out of the trees ahead of them. Nat pointed and he directed the horse.
“Girl’s gone now, into the woods,” he said more to himself than to Nat.
“What do you mean?”
“Her parents couldn’t keep her anymore, Sister. They had little medicine to keep the venom from spreading. No Healing House Sisters to keep it in check. You know what happens,” he said gruffly. “They had no choice but to send her off.”
“Send her off into the forest with the Nala there?” Nat asked angrily. She couldn’t imagine a child going through what she and Soris had experienced, only to be abandoned by those who should protect her.
“Nothing to be done about it, Sister. Not now, not in these times. She’s got more of a chance out there than she would if she tried to live near her family.”
They neared the cluster of ferns. “Stop here,” Nat said. She slid off the saddle and whispered a command to the orb. A greenish glow appeared from behind the ferns. Nat’s relief was quickly overcome by fear. She hurried to Soris, barely noticing the old man commanding his dog. “Find ’em,” he croaked, followed by another round of spit. The dog went around the fern, then disappeared into the brush near the riverbank. The man unsheathed his dagger and followed the dog.
Nat pushed the fronds aside. Soris’ eyes were partially open. “I was wondering when you were coming back,” he said weakly. “Between the ferns stuck up my nose and your orb banging into my head every time I tried to move, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.”
“I brought help, I think.” She checked the bandage. Blood marred its surface. “Can you sit
up?” She winced as she leaned in to help him.
“Did you get bitten?” Soris’ eyes widened.
“No,” she said. “I got hurt somehow during the fight, but I’m fine.”
“At least one of us made it.” He groaned as he sat up.
Nat felt a surge of guilt. “You’re going to be okay, Soris.” Her voice was hollow.
“No sign of the body, Sister.”
Soris jumped at the sound of the old man’s voice. Nat placed a hand on his back. “It’s gone. I pushed it into the river. Here”—she gestured toward Soris—“help me get him up and on your horse.”
“You killed it?” Soris asked as he struggled to stand with their support. Nat nodded. Ris continued to circle the trees around them while they managed to push Soris into the saddle.
“I’ve room only for myself and the boy, Sister.” The old man looked down apologetically from the saddle.
Soris slumped over the horn, and Nat thought of how much he had undergone the past few days for her and the others. “Take him. I’ll follow behind.” The old man nodded and kicked his horse. It needed little prodding and trotted away through the trees. Nat collected the few belongings she’d left. The orb spun in circles at her side. Ris watched its movement intently. “Let’s go, you two,” she said. The trio flew through the woods away from the river.
“You said the Nala were pushing into the region.” Nat held a thick mug to Soris’ lips. He sputtered but managed to swallow the medicinal tea. “How long?” she asked as she laid Soris back on the wooden pallet set low into one of the cottage’s stone walls.
Greffen, or more formally Greffen of the Tole Valley, as he’d introduced himself, ladled a thin liquid into a rough wooden bowl and dunked strips of gray cloth into it. “Been two years off and on. Before that, Mudug had a post south of here. The nearest House was destroyed five, maybe six years ago. The post was all we had after that.” He carried the bowl to the pallet and pulled a stool close to Soris. Out one of the two narrow windows, Nat could see Ris resting in front of a flock of sheep with the sun setting behind them. The peaceful beauty looked so out of place. The sound of dripping liquid brought her attention back to the room.
“Unwrap that, would you?” Greffen pointed to Soris’ makeshift bandage. Nat gently peeled the linen away from the wound. “Once the guards left, the Nala started moving in.” He watched intently as she pulled off the last layer. He let out a low whistle.
“That bad?” Soris asked. Sweat covered his brow and upper lip. Nat forced him to drink another sip of the tea. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the wound. It was her fault he’d been bitten. It had attacked him because he was trying to protect her. If she’d been thinking she could’ve flashed her markings and scared it off.
“I’ve seen worse,” Greffen said as he dabbed the wound with the dennox paste he’d prepared from Nat’s store. Soris winced. He leaned in and sniffed. “Yes, I’ve seen worse,” he repeated. “But not by much.”
“How much time do you think I have before I turn?” Soris looked at the bluish punctures ringing his shoulder before Greffen began wrapping them in the wet bandages.
“A day. Wouldn’t you agree, Sister? About a day?” he answered, as if he were talking about how long it would take them to travel to the nearest village. Soris’ head hit the lumpy straw pillow.
“You’re not into sugarcoating, are you?” Nat glared at Greffen.
“Best he knows what he’s in for.” Greffen rose from the stool. “The medicine and wrapping will slow it down, but they won’t stop it. You’d need a Healing Sister and a full apothecary to do that.” He placed the bowl and unused linen on the table. “Not many of those around these days. Sorry, boy.” He turned and shrugged his hunched shoulders.
“Sorry? There has to be something else you can do.” Nat’s anger at his resignation welled inside her.
“It’s okay.” Soris had opened his eyes and was staring at her. “We did what we set out to do. You need to get word to . . .” He paused and glanced at Greffen. He’d busied himself near the hearth, but both Nat and Soris knew he was listening intently to every word. “My brother and your friends,” Soris finished cautiously. “I’ll make my way north, back where we started. Maybe the Hermit can help,” he added with little hope in his voice.
Nat watched, amazed, as he tried to convince her to abandon him. The doubt in his eyes reminded her of Andris—the way he had doubted her, the way he had told her she would fail. “Change of plans, Soris,” she said curtly, making up her mind to bring him home. “Greffen.” She turned and addressed the shepherd. “How soon will it be safe to move him?”
“Not until early morning. If that Nala you finished today was traveling with others, they’ll be on his trail. You know their ways.” He eyed her curiously.
Nat backpedaled. “Right.” She calculated how far they could travel during the day. Soris’ condition would slow them down, and there was no way she could or would depend on Benedict to help. “What will you take for your horse?” she asked.
Greffen let out a snort. “She’s not for sale.”
“You said yourself the Nala would be on him. Would you prefer we camp nearby and bring them to your front door? I’m not asking for a gift. What will you take?”
Greffen’s lips were set in a thin line. “I’ll take your dagger,” he said finally.
Nat opened her mouth to protest but felt Soris’ fingers brush her hand. “Fine. It’s a deal. We’ll leave before dawn, or earlier if we can.” She extended a hand to Greffen and the now-familiar pain shot down her shoulder to her fingertips. He clasped her hand, nearly bringing her to tears. She turned her head away.
“Let me look at your shoulder.” Greffen directed her to the stool, but Nat held up her hand in protest.
“It’s nothing.”
“Stubborn girl, sit, then have something to eat. It may be your last meal,” he said as he moved to close the shutters. When he turned, he caught Nat looking nervously at the windows. “Don’t worry, Sister, Ris will let us know if we have any visitors during the night.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Sunshine warmed her face. Wisps of hair twisted free in front of her face. Morning birdsong and a light breeze pulled her slowly from her sleep. She lay wrapped in her cloak beneath the dead lower limbs of a pine tree. Without opening her eyes, she stretched one arm, brushing against the tall, wet grass surrounding the spot where she’d slept through the night. Her shoulder no longer ached. She flexed her arm, testing for any pain. She pulled it back into the cocoon of her cloak and slowly opened her eyes.
The slender, curved tops of the sagebrush wiggled slightly in the wind. Other than their rustle, there was no other sound. Nat propped herself on her elbows and surveyed the trees. No birds. No birdsong. A soft thud sounded behind the thick trunk. It took only a few seconds before she was on her feet, running. She flew through an open meadow, jumping over the twisted, gnarled roots of the sagebrush until she hit another tree line. A jagged granite cliff loomed ahead, high above her. Cracks and fissures ran through the rocks. The highest point of the naturally convoluted pyramid was a boulder shaped like a gap-toothed grin. A single raptor floated far above the gap. Nat ran between the thin pines until she reached slabs of moss-covered granite that had tumbled from above. She glanced back. A haphazard line of trees shook wildly. The Nala wasn’t far behind.
The slabs were slick with morning dew. She bounded over the fissures. Stubby trees shot defiantly out of the wider gaps in the rock. She passed a curled gray corpse of a tree and clutched one branch, pulling herself to the next outcropping. But she landed below the tree. With each step up the puzzle of a cliff, the split top appeared to grow farther and farther away. Hissing filled her ears. She tried to climb higher, but the rock slipped under her hands. The morning light dissipated into darkness. She could barely see the next handhold she needed to propel herself upward. She felt th
e rough, bumpy texture of the gap and pulled herself over the ledge into her dream space. “Lights up,” she panted. Bars of light shot up along the ledge. Wild hissing sounded in fits on the other side. Sharp blue arms thrashed against the bars, but they remained steadfast.
Nat opened her eyes. Greffen’s smoky hearth slowly came into view. She rubbed her face.
“It doesn’t taste any better than yesterday.” Soris held the thick mug in his hand and grimaced as he swallowed.
Nat sat up from her pallet and took in the room. The shutters were open. It was early. A fine gray mist had settled over the pasture, hiding everything beyond Greffen’s fence. She stood slowly, shaking the remnants of the nightmare from her thoughts. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“My chest and shoulder are a little sore,” Soris said and focused on a bit of hay stuck under a chair leg. “But there’s something else. I feel different.”
“How?” Nat asked, knowing they needed to leave now, but the answer was important.
Soris looked up to meet her eyes. “You were dreaming a moment ago.”
“Yes,” she said, slowly beginning to gather their things. “And?”
“And I think I could see your dream.”
The strap of her satchel dropped from her shoulder. “What did you see?”
“You were running through a strange field with silver-tipped plants. And then you started climbing up rock after rock.” He examined his hands as he spoke. He curled his fingers in tightly, making two fists.
“Your brother can do that, get into my dreams,” she said, trying to calm him.
