by T. C. Edge
“No different to you and Bjorn,” I suggest. “You’re enemies, and yet there’s a truce between you. Or…there was,” I add, remembering the last interaction between the two men.
His laughter once more tumbles away down the hill and into the woods, and he sets his face back into order. I seem to have that effect on him.
“The girl speaks some sense,” he says. “But, the great tower has just fallen. You have just destroyed it. How can you speak on good terms so quickly after such an act?”
“Through necessity,” says Zander. “He’s killed thousands of innocent people. Now we have too. He called for a meeting and we attended. That was only yesterday. He told us that he’s been monitoring threats far from here for a long time, and that we’ve weakened each other to the point of being vulnerable. If we continue to destroy each other, whoever’s left will be unable to withstand whatever comes next.”
“Ah, yes. You kill them, they kill you. Now, there are few of you left, and you are weak. The city has lost its beacon, and the lights have gone out…”
“That’s what he said,” I find myself cutting in. “Cromwell, he said almost the exact same thing.”
A ripple of distrust fuses through me. The grip on my pulse rifle grows tighter, and I scan my surroundings with a more wary eye. Rhoth merely smiles as he watches me.
“So, you think I’m in league with this man, because we share a few words? Don’t be so nervous, girl, words are common.”
I look at Zander, who doesn’t seem so concerned. He gives a little reassuring nod and I start to relax.
“Well, perhaps your enemy is right,” continues Rhoth. “I told you before, Brie, that people come to your city and are shot at the door. Many know of this place, and from far and wide they travel here.”
“So you’re saying it’s true?” asks Zander. “There are soldiers, warriors, hunters coming here?”
Rhoth’s thick neck inches right and left.
“I cannot speak for certain, boy. I hear things on the wind, but I have heard no tales of a grand gathering heading this way. This war of yours has only been going for a short time. It will take a little while for anyone to realise that they have a chance to attack.”
“Maybe, or maybe not. What if they’ve been planning something for a while? What if they knew war was coming?”
“And how would they know?” Rhoth asks.
“Well, you say people come here to the gates of the city and are shot. We heard the same thing from the horse’s mouth…”
Rhoth’s eyes twitch in a manner to suggest he doesn’t understand the phrase.
“He’s saying we heard it directly from Cromwell,” I tell him, leaning in.
“I see…”
“Yeah, from Cromwell,” continues Zander. “He confirmed what you said. People come, and are turned away. That’s a nice way of saying he kills them. But, he often takes them in for interrogation first, finds out what they know and where they come from. It’s helped him build a picture of what else is out there, but there’s no reason why the reverse can’t also happen.”
“The reverse?”
“As in, while some are caught at the gates, others might just come here and scout the place, keep a watch. We know there are other Enhanced out there, and they’ve probably been keeping a close watch on things over the years. And if that’s the case, they might just mobilise quickly if they sniff a chance to strike.”
Rhoth’s fingers continue to work patterns in his stringy beard. A gradual smile begins to accumulate on his craggy lips.
“A compelling case, but nothing I don’t know. These are my woods, boy, not yours. I know of the happenings here.”
“Then you can confirm or deny what I’m saying. Have you heard of scouts in the area? People coming and keeping an eye on the city?”
“I wouldn’t call them scouts. But yes, people are sometimes seen, creeping through the shadows. It could be as you say.”
Zander claps his hands together.
“Right, as I thought.” He turns to me. “The evidence is gathering, sis.”
He’s right, it is. That’s undeniable, even for someone like me who’d so love to deny it.
“Right, Rhoth, what else do you know?”
The big man stiffens at the tone of my brother’s question. I sense he’s not getting the respect he requires to continue, and so makes a point of reacquiring it.
Zander seems to notice, and quickly reframes his words.
“I mean, do you have anything else you can tell us?” he asks. “It would be of such help.”
His retrofitted wording has the desired impact. The hunter’s posture loosens up a fraction, and his eyes swing towards the northern edge of the clearing, where the earth continues to rise at the base of the mountain.
“I have lied to you,” he says coolly. The reaction in the pit of my stomach is far from cool, but boiling hot. His eyes swing over, darkened and hawkish beneath angled brows. I once again find my fingers gripping tight at my weapon. Then, his façade melts again, switching from frightening to jovial with the calm composure of an accomplished performer. “I lied when I said I came here to hunt.” He looks around to his men. “Do you see us holding any kills?”
I turn my eyes to the gathering. Zander doesn’t even bother. We both shake our heads.
“You can be well assured that, had we been hunting since early this morning, we’d have accumulated enough meat to feed our whole tribe for a week. No, we are here for another purpose.”
“And that is?” asks my brother suspiciously.
“To take you a little higher,” he says. “I was well aware of why you were coming to see me today. I knew what information you were seeking. And, if you want the best information around here, then it isn’t the Fangs who can provide it.”
He saunters away to the far end of the clearing, stepping from the patch of rocks and crossing the stream with a large stride. My brother and I share a look before rustling after him. His men fall in, spreading into their positions.
Rhoth stops at the treeline again, and lifts a great paw to the climbing earth.
“Up there,” he says, “the Roosters dwell. If you wish to see far, then you go high. And they live high.”
He steps under the canopy and out of the blazing sun, and we follow right after.
22
“So, you just lured us up here to get a head-start?” questions Zander as we move through the forest. “You do like your games, don’t you Rhoth…”
A whimsical smile that has no place on such a face as his appears.
“I was testing you, boy. Seeing if you could follow my tracks. I had expected you to spot us among the trees. Clearly, you aren’t quite as skilled out here as you think you are.”
“So, that’s why you left the church before we arrived. Just to test me?”
“That, and so I didn’t have to suffer your company on the journey. It’s quite enough to endure it from here on out.”
I can’t help but laugh. Zander shoots me a pinched glare and I lift my brows and turn away.
Doing so, my eyes sweep over the contingent of hunters around us. I look from one face to the next and recognise many of them from our past journeys together, most notably to the mines and back. Among them, the face of West sticks out, youthful and keen and quietly determined.
His glancing eyes pass by mine and quickly sweep away. I sense he continues to harbour a grudge towards me for infiltrating his private mental spaces.
I hurry on back to the front, where Rhoth and Zander continue their conversation. I have no compunction about butting in. They still seem to be embroiled in their silly routine of testosterone-fuelled one-upmanship.
“West’s here,” I say to my brother, grappling his attention away from the big man.
He nods.
“I know.”
“Well, shouldn’t we talk to him too? He might know some more.”
Rhoth frowns down at me. He’s protective of the young man he took under his mighty wi
ng.
“Be careful not to go thrashing about in his mind again,” he warns. “If you wish to speak with him, use your words only. If he doesn’t return them, leave him be. Understand?”
I suppose I have no choice.
“Maybe you should go,” I say to Zander. “I’m not sure he likes me much.”
“I wouldn’t be so concerned about that,” counters Rhoth with a glint in his eye. “You are a pretty girl, Brie. Young men always like pretty girls.”
My initial reaction is to huff at such a simple and base remark. I’m sure West is more complicated than that. But, it does lead me towards an idea.
“Fine,” I say, before slipping back through the group and approaching West with my trepidation suppressed.
Instead, I widen my eyes as girlishly as I can, flutter my dark lashes, and paint my face with the most inviting and pleasant smile I can manage. I’d imagine the likes of Sophie, Tess, or Kira would be better at it than me, but my camouflage seems to do its job.
West smiles back, albeit briefly and nervously. Then his eyes shift away at an angle through the woods, just about enough so he can still view me in his peripheral vision.
“Hey, West,” I say, making sure my voice matches my friendly countenance. “How are you this fine day?”
I get no verbal response. His eyes flick back at me, his pursed lips shift down, and he offers the tiniest of nods. Then he looks back to the woods.
“OK, erm, so I just wanted to apologise for what happened before. I feel really bad about it. I’m so sorry. Will you accept my apology?”
Another flutter of my lashes.
He shifts his eyes to mine once more and inspects me for a moment longer this time. Then, seeing the contrition in me, he manages a weak smile before nodding hurriedly.
I beam more brightly than the sun above.
“Good. That’s great! Thank you, West.”
He heaves in a breath, as if mustering some inner strength, and then empties his lungs with a single, quiet word.
“Welcome…”
I try not to react with too much buoyancy from hearing him talk. It’s a small victory in a larger war. As I begin to walk alongside him, I consider the best way of getting him to open up a little more.
“So, did you hear what we were talking about earlier?” I ask. “Down in the clearing?”
It seems that, after breaking his vow of silence, he’s struggling to justify reverting to it. He’s spoken now. There’s no going back.
“Yes,” he says, his eyes turning to his companions. He slows his step, so that we begin to trail behind by a good five, ten, fifteen metres, some space opening up between us and the main pack.
I don’t think he wants the rest hearing him speak. If they do, his status as a mute will be called into question. I suppose he’d rather maintain it.
“If you don’t want to talk about this, that’s just fine,” I say, giving him an out. “Just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”
He doesn’t move away. It’s all the answer I need.
“OK. So, you heard what we were saying?”
He nods.
“I heard it all.”
His voice is tentative and quiet, yet fitted with a husky tone that’s quite appealing on the ears.
“And, do you know anything? You came from a long way away. You must have seen things on the way here.”
I have more questions waiting to slide down my tongue, but hold back. I can’t overload him for risk of him shutting back down again. I stop short and wait. He takes a moment to consider things.
“I was young,” he whispers. “But…I remember. You…you saw? The people in my village?”
“I did. I’m sorry about that, again.”
“It’s OK. I don’t like to think about it. But, it’s OK now.”
“And that village, your village, it was a long way away?”
“Long way. Very long way. We walked for weeks…months. We knew of the beacon here. People from our village had left before to come this way. We didn’t know if they had made it…no one knew. My…my family. We were going to come together. Now, it’s only me.”
His voice pulls to a stop, the flow of words ending as they began to pour faster and faster. It’s as if he’s wanted to speak of such things for years, but hasn’t been able to. Not among his adopted tribe. Not with such fierce men.
But with me, his words run free. He looks ahead again and checks that no one has turned around. I lay a hand on his arm and give a little squeeze.
“It’s OK, no one can hear us.”
His eyes stay a little hooded. He takes a few more moments to warm back up, and we drift a few more metres back to be sure.
“So you were planning on coming here all along? People from that far away know about Haven?”
“They know. All people know. Our lands were under siege. We planned to leave, but were too late. You know what happened. You…saw.”
His deep sadness causes a similarly deep feeling of guilt to swim down my veins. I apologise again, and have it accepted.
“Rhoth told me about your brother,” I say softly. “I’m sorry that happened. It’s awful.”
“I have got much revenge for him,” he says, his posture and voice firming. “I have killed many Shadows. Each one, I imagine it was the beast who took my brother. He got me here safely. Without him, I’d be dead. I will never be able to kill enough Shadows until the day I die.”
“I know the feeling,” I say. “My parents were killed when I was a baby. I never knew them…”
I withdraw their picture from my jacket pocket as I speak, and unfold the card.
“This is them?” he asks.
I nod.
“My father, Maxwell. And my mother, Elisa. They were killed because they wanted to be together but couldn’t. They were killed because they gave life to my brother and me. We both come from hard worlds, West. I just want to save the people I care about now. And…kill those who wrong me.”
“Do you know?” he asks quickly. “Do you know who did it?”
I nod, and my face darkens.
“I know. And I’ll kill him one day.”
“Good. You’re like me. I just want to kill the bad people, and save the good. I think we are alike, Brie.”
I smile as he says my name, proud that I’ve been able to draw him from his shell, that he’s been willing to open up to me.
“So what you heard earlier…all this about people coming to take the city. Do you believe that’s possible, given what you’ve seen?”
“Possible,” he whispers. “Very possible.”
He doesn’t offer anything more. But his words have already proven the point that I wish I could deny – that the city of Haven is known across the lands. That the beacon that has drawn them in, only to kill them, has now been put out. That the revenge that consumes West, consumes me, might just fire the minds of many others who settle in the lands beyond our sight. And that, as my grandfather told us, we are far more vulnerable right now than we’d like to admit.
As I ponder it all, a booming voice clatters from the front, and I regain my focus to see that Rhoth and the troop ahead have stopped. The big man comes thrashing back through the brush, his eyes descended in anger.
I assume his chagrin is aimed at me. I instinctively take a step back and brace.
His fiery gaze works straight past me, however, and at the young man by my side. He looms over him, preparing to growl.
“West, you know better than to drop back out of formation!” he says. “What are you doing twenty metres from the pack?!”
The boy has gone mute again. His lips quiver and then clamp shut. Everyone behind is now watching.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I was distracting him.”
“Yes, you wanted to speak. I know this. But West knows too that a single weak link can cause our destruction. Now, back in line! Right now!”
West scurries off to his post, and Rhoth’s heaving breath pours out at me instead.
“You’ve tasted the dangers, girl, but you don’t understand them. Don’t draw my men from their posts again.”
“But you said…” I lower my voice and check for watching eyes. “You said I could talk with him.”
“Talk, yes…but not lure out here. And, well, I didn’t really expect him to speak. He did, did he?”
“A bit. It’s my charm, Rhoth. Few can resist it.”
“The beasts care nothing for your charm. Nor do the other tribes. If they find a spare girl wandering alone, it won’t be your charms that they’re interested in.”
“But this is your territory, isn’t it?” I look around, my bearings lost. “We’re still in the western woods, right?”
“We are in no man’s territory here. All may lurk and drift this way. Soon, we’ll reach the higher passes where the Roosters dwell. But here, you keep your wits about you at all times.”
I nod silently and promise myself to keep a tighter watch.
Then, heading northwards, the lands continue to rise.
23
We press on for an hour, during which I seal my lips shut and refuse to utter a single word.
Walking a little back from my brother and Rhoth, I begin to note the changing shape of the earth, my lungs starting to work a little harder as the ascent grows increasingly steep.
The quality of the air here is also very different from the woods down in the basin. The poisonous fog seems to thin in direct accordance with the increase in altitude, and before long it’s growing as sweet and clear as I’ve ever tasted, leaving my gas mask redundant and hanging casually from my belt.
The density of the forest also takes a new form, the trees growing apart as they reach higher into the sky. Thick trunks begin to appear up ahead, peaks as tall as buildings slicing into the big blue, and between them, now closer than ever, the rocky shards of the towering mountains lift into the gathering clouds ahead.
From what I’ve heard of the Roosters, tree-living is their forte. Rather than suffer the fumes down below, they chose to develop a more pleasant manner of living by climbing higher and building their nests off the ground. The trees here are suitable for such a purpose, being grand and mighty as they are, and before too long the first signs of their existence are beginning to appear.
