Children of the Bloodlands

by S. M. Beiko

  “Certainly, sir,” Barton replied, trying to keep alert as Zhou turned and led them through a doorway at the back of the factory through a screen of thick plastic flaps. On the other side were twenty monitors, with a team of at least that many at their own laptops, watching feeds or scrolling through walls of code.

  The screens fluttered through the same image over and again, some of them moving in slow circles and focusing in and out on the rough landscape. “Drones,” Zhou said, answering Barton’s unspoken question. “We got quite a few down there without any interference. But they aren’t picking up anything, movement-wise.”

  Barton went closer to the screen, squinting, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’d never seen a scene like it: a small jet plane with a crumpled underbelly sat in a grove of twisted black trees. The emergency slide had been deployed from the plane but had since deflated, a sickening yellow against the overcast and the ashy tint to the rough landscape. He checked another feed from the drone flying the farthest up and saw that the grove was contained just around the plane, as if it had popped up overnight to hide the crash.

  “What . . . how did it land so perfectly in these trees?”

  “It didn’t.” Zhou frowned. He was standing over an unoccupied laptop, clicking and typing swiftly. The screen nearest them flickered and zoomed in on one of the trees.

  Twisted in the bark was a face.

  “Gods,” Kita murmured.

  “We have never seen anything like this,” Zhou went on, tapping further. “We believe this is the work of the stonehunter and its cinder army.” Zhou brought in another drone, zooming in on yet more trees, their faces gnarled in silent screams of agony, branches seeming to stretch by millimetres the longer they watched. Barton didn’t say it out loud, but he wondered if Phae could get a solid long-exposure shot with this horror show.

  Barton clenched his jaw. “Are these the people from the plane? The Owls?”

  Zhou nodded. “And we believe somewhere amongst them is Eli Rathgar. And the Moonstone.”

  Barton moved closer to the monitors, nearly pressing his face against the glass to see if he recognized anything in the horribly transformed victims surrounding the deserted plane. They all looked, miserably, the same.

  He turned to the Commander. “Where is this site? You said it was close?”

  “Just outside of Magadan proper. A few miles off the coast. There’s nothing out there anyway, and for discretion’s sake the Owls are trying to keep it off the Mundane radar.”

  Barton was tense with the need to move. “I’d like to accompany the party that does the initial recon of the site, sir.”

  Zhou nodded again. “Of course. I’d expect nothing less. We are in a holding pattern until we hear from the incoming Owl Council. Or if anything on this front changes.” With a few keystrokes, the top two rows of screens logged an ongoing seismograph reading. “We haven’t had any hits yet, but we figured the site might end up telling us something on its own. We’ve never seen anything like this before. And if the geography changes, we’ll need to know. In case this happens again, and so we can try to prevent it. Or at the very least minimize the damage.”

  Damage — military speak for casualties. Deaths. Because that’s what was coming. If Eli was down there, in this body orchard . . . Surely he wasn’t. There was no way he could be . . . A cold dread filled Barton’s stomach as he imagined entire cities afflicted with whatever had hit these Owls — streets and cars pierced with black roots that had once been flesh and bone, the doomed victims forever reaching towards a pitiless sky.

  The Commander hit a few more keys, and the monitors resumed their continuous feeds. “At any rate, you two have had a long journey. Best get some sleep.” Then Zhou himself took his leave, maybe to find his own bunk, and whatever oblivion it could afford before the next march.

  “After looking at this,” Barton said, still staring at the ominous black shapes around the motionless plane, “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping for a while.”

  ~

  A couple hours later, we found the house.

  “No lights on,” I noted. The door was wide open and clapping in the breeze.

  We decided to take our chances. Ruo had woken by now, and though stiff she moved obediently wherever my hand guided her. She’d been quiet, too, and I believed, however fleetingly, that we weren’t being pursued and had lost whatever had come after us and the Conclave. For now.

  The house sat at the top of a hill and was raised on stilts, the underside hemmed in by cedar lattice. There was a shed close by, and when we reached to the rise, I saw a road down the other side, endless empty country stretching black around it. Where did the road lead? Where the hell were we? Everything had happened so fast since the confrontation in the Meadows. And Glencoe was pretty much on the other side of Scotland, if I remembered correctly. I had no idea if I even had my cellphone when I was brought to the Conclave, and we weren’t exactly rigged out with any tech aside from our hands and the will to keep one foot in front of the other. But at least there was a road: one we could follow to maybe find the Conclave and figure out what was really going on.

  Ruo and I waited at the bottom of the house’s stairs while Killian went up to check the inside. He held a flame in front of him, disappearing through the door.

  “Is he gone?”

  I startled at Ruo’s voice, clear and urgent in the cold mountain air.

  “Killian’s just going to see if —”

  “You have to go,” Ruo urged. “It’s not safe.”

  A lump formed in my throat. What did she know that I didn’t? “Ruo —”

  Her hand was shaking in mine, but it went suddenly still when Killian reappeared at the top of the porch steps.

  “It’s deserted. Well . . . guess that’s a relative term. You’ll see soon enough. But it’s out of the wind, and we can rest here for the night.”

  I narrowed my eyes, let them fall back on Ruo. But she was staring at the ground, almost catatonic. What had she been trying to tell me? “And what about the Conclave?”

  “Better to seek them in the daylight,” Killian said, staring over my head and into the trees at the bottom of the hill. “Don’t like the feel of those woods in the dark. And maybe we’ll find some food here.”

  Food. Shelter. Quiet. Could we risk taking a breather? I knew that it didn’t matter if we could risk it or not, because with Ruo our progress was already slow, undermined. It was taking a toll on us both to watch out for her, carrying her most of the way. And we couldn’t go on forever.

  But I felt something and I whirled to face the woods, as if hungry eyes were watching us from those trees. I gripped Ruo’s hand tighter. If something came after us now, I’d be no use to either of them if I was dead on my feet. And I was in no rush to run into either those cinder kids or the Conclave, for that matter.

  Killian helped me bring Ruo up the stairs and inside. He tried to shut the door behind him but realized it was broken. He managed to tie it shut with a dusty blanket he’d nabbed from a sofa just within the entry of the house.

  I jerked Ruo back from going any farther in, for the thing that sat decaying in the living room was something I didn’t expect to see in my waking world.

  “Fuck,” I blurted. “What the hell is that thing doing here?”

  Killian bent down, hands on his knees as he peered sickeningly closely at the twisted black hulk that stabbed the floor and the ceiling with its gnarled . . . branches? Roots? But they’d been limbs once. There was a gaping hole in the centre of it, like a knot, and I imagined it had been a mouth. And though the bark looked tough as wrought iron, I knew if I dug my fingernail in there hard enough, it would bleed.

  “Ye’ve seen one of these things before?” Killian straightened up. “It’s what those children do. They spread this sickness and turn unsuspecting folk into these abominations. Still stumped as to whet
her or not there’s a cure for either the kids or their victims.” Then he closed his eyes in shame. “Stumped. Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

  “They’re called hope trees.” I guided Ruo into another recliner near the spare kitchen, tried to make her comfortable in the mouldering cushions. “A staple of the Bloodlands. And the sick SOB who runs the place.”

  “Urka the Gardener,” Killian nodded. “Aye. Forgot ye’ve actually been there and went toe to toe with the vermin itself.”

  “Which means Mala was right. Whatever this Seela thing is, it’s trying to turn the world into its own Bloodlands.” I looked the black charred hunk over; my spirit eye showed a flicker of what lay beneath, its soul departed but the residue clear, though faint. “And if it was one of those kids that did this, they fled and didn’t come back. The news said the virus broke out in the Highlands, right?”

  Killian didn’t answer, busy now tearing through the cupboards, but they’d already been raided, long ago, and the sound of skittering claws and the desperate squeaks of rodents proved there wouldn’t be enough for three starving adults.

  “Damn.” Killian smiled, and it threw me off. “Well. At least it’s dry, aye?” He took one last survey of the room and Ruo and I in it. “Right. I saw there was a shed ’round the side. Maybe there’s something in there or something I can make a snare with.”

  “A snare?” I gaped at him.

  “Aye, a snare! We’re Foxes. Natural hunters. And if I come back empty-handed, ye’ll both probably be asleep by then, and no harm in my grandstanding. And at least there might be a well where I can get us some water.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Ye’ll be all right? I won’t be gone but a few minutes.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back, trying to be reassuring. Killian had gotten us a long way under the mountains and out of the black forest, and I doubt I could’ve gone far without his encouragement. “We’ll be fine.”

  And with that he nodded, strode to the door, and let himself back out into the night.

  The second he left, Ruo bent over herself, coughing so violently I was afraid she was going to choke. I had no idea what to do. “Hey, just breathe, okay?” I tried to sound calm, but I felt nothing like it. “Ruo? C’mon, sit up, I’ll see if I can find that well Killian was —”

  When the coughing subsided and Ruo slumped back, I froze, watching her throat swallow what air it could. I hesitantly lit my hand in the dark living room, bringing it closer to her neck, and the huge black stain there I hadn’t noticed before.

  I felt the weight of the dead hope tree tingling at my back when Ruo’s eyes opened, seeming to glow red at the edges. But how? How had she become infected between the shakeup at the Conclave and now? There hadn’t been any of those kids out in the woods, none that had come anywhere near us if there were. Killian had carried her the entire way here, out of the mountain . . .

  “I . . .” Ruo lifted her hands to her face. “I can see.” She glanced at me, at the dark room around us, even stood up and brushed past me as she went to the open doorway. Her breath caught and she went still again.

  I moved behind her but not too close. “Ruo . . . you need to come back inside.”

  Even from here, I saw her ragged cheeks glistening. “I’d forgotten so many tiny details. The tops of trees.” As she turned towards me, I saw her milky eyes had cleared, and though fathomlessly black, they were wide behind the curtain of tears. “You look . . . so much like both of them.”

  My eyes stung, and I couldn’t help myself. I surged forward, and she took my hands and pressed them to her mouth.

  “Gods,” Ruo muttered, looking at my hands in hers. The longer she stared at them, the blacker hers became. “I can feel the heat. Inside of me. But it’s nothing like Deon’s. It’s in my blood, like an infection.” She backed towards the door, clasping her fingers over her eyes. “I begged every day for my sight to come back, just once more. For my mind. And it has but . . . not like this.”

  Then her hands dropped. She was silhouetted by the open sky behind her, the rolling hills, and moonlight touched them, as if we were nearing the pre-dawn gloaming.

  Her skin glowed like a deep mine fire raged beneath it. “You have to go,” she said. “Before he comes back. Or before . . .” Her finger pointed, and I whirled to face the horrible creature growing behind me.

  The tree had moved.

  “You’re late,” came a voice from outside.

  I turned again to face the doorway and dashed past Ruo to the porch, stopped short. At the bottom of the stairs stood Mala, flanked at her back by six Foxes poised to fight.

  Between us and them stood Killian.

  “Late?” Mala replied, her keen eyes lighting on me. “I think you knew it was only a matter of time, otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped. You wanted to be found.”

  After a drawn pause, I saw Killian shrug, and he half turned so I could see his face. “Well, ye’ve found us. Now what?”

  Mala’s hand snapped up to her chest, cupped. It erupted with a flare. “I’m going to do what I should have done when you came crawling out of the woodwork. Put you back into a cell where you belong. Roan.” Her eyes still hadn’t left Killian. “Come down. It’s all right now.”

  I put myself in front of Ruo. “I dunno how evident it is, but I have no idea what is going on.” I took Ruo’s hand and felt her squeeze it back. Whatever the plague was, it hadn’t taken her fully yet. “Ruo needs help. She’s been infected with the Cinder Plague. Whatever grudge match you two have going on, I’m not going anywhere until you help her.”

  I saw the corner of Mala’s mouth pull back. “If she’s been tainted, then she is one of them. Come down now before she tries to take the stone.”

  “Get out of here,” Ruo hissed, pulling urgently on my hand. “None of them matter. Only you.”

  “Roan,” Mala tried again, her own voice matching Ruo’s rising panic. “Please. Come back with us. Whatever Killian has told you about the Conclave, it’s not true. He’s been lying to us all since he brought you to us.”

  She was really not helping her case. “What are you talking about?”

  Killian took one step forward, and the six fighters behind Mala lunged in kind, hands and arms primed and lit with sacred fire.

  Killian laughed, and the sound carried up the hill to Ruo and me. “Ye think ye can scare me? It’s ye who should be afraid. She doesna need me to tell her what’s in front of her. What the Conclave plans to do if she doesna play by yer rules.” Killian shot me a look. “Remember when they said ye canna separate a Paramount from the stone? There is the one way. Believe me, they’ve already considered doing it.”

  Mala had said as much herself. It is a bond that can only be broken by death. We are not so desperate yet. But maybe they were now, after what had just happened at the Conclave.

  “Roan, please,” Mala begged. “This man . . . he’s dangerous. He’s a liar. He’s a Stonebreaker.” The fighters were getting restless, and Mala signalled them to stand down. “I don’t want to fight you. There were many injured and killed in the quake. We need our Paramount. Seela is close. And he —” she levelled her accusation at Killian’s mocking grin directly “— brought that monster and its army to our temple.”

  “And who’s to say it wasn’t ye that did it?” Killian shot back. “Ye’ve never been beneath sacrificing yer own Family to twist things to your way. I may be a Stonebreaker, but I would never betray kin. And I won’t allow ye to twist Roan to your ends.” Suddenly Killian snapped his arms out, and they were wreathed in dancing embers. Sparks flicked from his hair.

  I was frozen in place. Who could I trust? I’d only just met both of them, but they both had agendas. Just like the stone itself. By the look in Mala’s eyes, I didn’t think she was beneath cutting me down to take the stone and perpetuate the Fox Family’s version of the greater good. But Killian had just admitted he was a Stoneb
reaker — an extremist who believed the stones were better off destroyed. And Ruo’s warning rang between my temples.

  I couldn’t believe it, but . . . for better or worse, after all the grief the Dragon Opal had caused me so far, I agreed with him.

  Mala seemed resigned now, and she looked back up at me with a cutting glare. Because she could see that she’d lost. “So be it.” And the six fighters vaulted over her, piling onto Killian without mercy.

  He met their blows with blunt efficiency, weaving and crossing, matching strike for strike as they tore into him, broke his line of defense. It was all happening too fast, the cold hillside scorching under their brutal dance.

  Mala crossed the hill to the bottom of the stairs, the battle raging around her while she sidestepped it carefully. I pressed Ruo back into the house and blocked the doorway with my body.

  “There’s no sense protecting her,” Mala said tensely. “She is one of them now. One of Seela’s followers. She will try to kill you.”

  “And what are you gonna try?” I hazarded. “If you’re not going to help her, stay away from her. And me.” Mala was moving up the stairs, and the stone strobed a warning beneath my sweat-soaked clothes.

  “I’m not here to harm you. Killian was imprisoned for as many years as you’ve been alive. When he escaped, he came to us. We granted him temporary clemency in return for finding you. And he did. Now that clemency is spent. We need our Paramount.”

  So the guards, the wariness. They’d been for Killian. Imprisoned? Something else flickered in the periphery of my memory, but I had to focus on Mala. She’d taken one more step but stopped, staring openly at the Opal between us. I could feel the intensity of its heat, feel my clothes burning away as it boiled from its shimmering green and crimson core. In its light, I saw the expression of Mala’s utter defeat transform into something like desire. I thought she was strong, but all she saw before her was power.

  Then there was a howl as Ruo pitched herself from behind me, knocking Mala down the stairs and collapsing on top of her, snapping and clawing at her face. But Mala was strong, and she released a burst of flame, Ruo heaving off her with a scream.