Planet Urth: The Fate of Urth (Book 5)

by Jennifer Martucci

  At first, I see only his back. Broad shoulders and arms, encased in a generous casing of both muscle and fat are revealed as they move to slam a figure blocked by his body. “Don’t fight me, June. This’ll be a lot easier if you don’t fight.” The deep timbre of Brom’s voice claws through the ether, the gravel quality scraping at my skin like sharpened talons. His words are vicious barbs. He shifts his weight and when he does, I see June. Pinned against a tree with a meaty forearm pressed to her throat, blue, liquid drops of moonlight kiss her skin. Tears have streaked dirty cheeks and her silvery blue eyes, as ethereal and melancholy as the moonlight itself, are wide, pleading. My booted feet pound the forest floor as I close the distance between us, and with each step I take, my rage mounts, twisting into something so immense it assumes a life of its own.

  June wriggles and tries to shout against the hand clapped over her mouth, but the sounds she makes are little more than muffled grunts lost in the noises of the night. “I told you to shut your mouth and stop fighting or else I’ll have to just snap your neck.”

  Her frantic gaze darts wildly, her pain and fear inciting the deadly beast that has awakened in me, and she catches sight of me. In the second it takes for recognition to flicker in her eyes, a wordless exchange occurs between us. Panic is replaced by determination. Her brow lowers and her eyes harden. Lifting her leg high she stomps down hard on Broms instep. He curses her and loosens his grip long enough for her to hunch forward and drive her fist into his crotch. Howling in pain and doubling over, his hands drop, freeing her as he clutches his groin. June dashes with the speed and grace of a sparrow and positions herself behind me.

  “Hello Brom,” I say, my voice as deadly as I feel. “I guess you’re going to get what you wanted.” I pull my sword from its sheath and clutch it in both hands, knees slightly bent and prepared to strike.

  “Oh, look at you with your sword drawn. I’m trembling with fear now,” Brom mocks, derision filled chuckles echoing all around us. His laughter pelts through the atmosphere, drilling my eardrums. When he pauses for a moment, a sinister sneer carves his pockmarked face. “After I strip that sword from you and kill you, girl, I have quite an evening in store for June.” He licks his lips lasciviously, and the blazing hot anger that burned tempestuously chills, leaving in its wake cold, calm assurance. Brom will not lay a hand upon my sister. He will die. I will spill his blood and watch as life escapes him, of that I am certain.

  “Whatever you say, Brom,” I say with the calm of a coiled snake.

  He smiles and pulls his blade from a scabbard at his hip. “I’m going to gut you, girl, and then I’ll have all the time in the world with her.” He clips his chin toward June, ogling her as if she is a side of boart meat and he a starving man about to devour it right before he charges me. Shoving June out of the way, I sidestep him just in time to avoid the pointed tip if his blade dragging across my throat. Instead of my neck, his blade meets with the tangled bush of thorns behind me. I swipe the air and catch his side before he frees himself from the bramble. Brom roars, angry and no doubt enduring a sting from the wound I’ve inflicted. A line of crimson appears, blood trickling from it.

  “Avery!” he snarls, his face and tone resembling a rabid animal. He spins and swings. I duck and he strikes again, narrowly missing having my head lopped off. I swipe the space between us, advancing two steps then retreating immediately. The edge of my sword slices his arm, opening a considerable gash from his shoulder to his elbow. Brom hurls a series of profanities at me, a gush of blood pouring from his cut. He releases a primitive sound, what I presume is a rallying cry, then rushes me, his blade swinging wildly. Eyes never leaving his sword, I duck and dodge his assault. Twisting and turning as I evade each strike, my moves leave Brom winded. He glowers at me, gulping air and wheezing.

  “Drop your weapon and I’ll let you live.” I make him an offer his ego will never accept.

  Wiping his nose and sniffing, he turns his head to one side, as if debating my proposal. He looks to the ground, the uninjured arm and hand that wields his weapon going slack. For a moment, he looks as though he’ll release his grip on the hilt of his sword. But the last fraction of a second before his fingers let go, he lunges at me, cutting the air at my throat. Surprised, I take a clumsy step backward and drive my blade out in front of me. It sinks into his torso until the tip protrudes from his back. I quickly yank my sword free, my hands trembling and my heart pattering a feverish beat. Brom, eyes wide with shock, staggers back several steps. He looks down at the expanding pool of crimson that rings his wound. He mumbles. Incoherent and jumbled, I can’t make out what he’s saying. His upper lip is curled in disgust, replacing the stunned line his lips formed just seconds ago. Collapsing to his knees with an unceremonious string of swearwords, Brom finally falls. Leery that he’ll reach for his sword, I kick it out of his reach and watch as he keels over. I make no move to comfort him and assist him. Instead, I watch with detachment as the cold hand of death reaches a fisted hand into his chest, rattling his breaths. He splutters and breathes raggedly until finally, the erratic rise and fall of his chest stills. His features freeze in an eternal expression of anger. The light has left his eyes, the fire and hate that drove him, yet in death, his expression remains as it was in life: hostile. I would chuckle at the irony of that were time not a critical factor. But Cassowary is still vulnerable, and Uganna still lurk.

  Spinning, my gaze searches until it lands on June. Huddled behind a thick tree trunk and peeking out, her lips are parted and form a small O. “June.” My heart breaks for her. “Are you okay?”

  She takes several timid steps out from behind the concealment of the mature tree. I return my sword to the scabbard at my back and watch her. She looks around me, her eyes landing on Brom’s lifeless form. I wait in expectancy of a reaction, tears or remorse even, but she rushes to me and throws her arms around my neck. I return her hug tightly, a flood of emotion moistening my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I tell her over and over.

  “Sorry?” She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. She sniffles and swipes beneath her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “You didn’t do anything. What’re you sorry about?”

  “I left you.” I unburden the heaviness in my chest. “I left you with Arnost, asked him to look out for you while I kept an eye on Peter.” Shame burns up my neck and colors my cheeks. Admitting to my grave mistake stings. Not only did I essentially abandon her in favor of watching Peter, but I also assigned her what she’ll perceive as a babysitter. No matter, the end result was that she was abducted by Brom. And it was my fault.

  “You think I didn’t know you asked Arnost to look after me?” June wrinkles her nose.

  “Uh, no,” I admit sheepishly.

  She chuckles. The sound is soft and sweet. “Oh Avery, you’re not good at keeping things. You’re not sneaky at all.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s an accusation or a compliment.” I shrug and shake my head.

  “It’s a compliment, trust me.” She places a hand on my shoulder the way I always do to her. “And Brom doing what he did was not your fault.”

  “But it is.” Guilt still clings to me like a scum on a pond. “I should’ve been the one protecting you.”

  “Yeah, and guess what?” She plants her hands on her hips and doesn’t wait for me to say a word. “Brom would’ve found another way to get at you through me. He wouldn’t have let it go. So whether it was on Arnost’s watch or yours, something would have happened no matter what.”

  I’m stunned to silence by my sister’s mature thought process. She never ceases to impress me.

  “You know I’m right,” she persists and adds a hint of sass to her tone. She throws her arm around my shoulders.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I don’t fully concede my point. I part my lips and am about to tell her how proud I am of her when rustling behind a cluster of nearby bushes demands my attention. Moving away from June and gently guiding her behind me, I unsheathe my sword and hold i
t in front of me, gripping the hilt tightly with two hands. I take careful steps, advancing with the idea in my mind that at any given moment, a monstrous Uganna will spring forth. The crunch of leaves sounds again, shaking the spiny boughs of the bush. My breathing hitches. June is wide open and unarmed, vulnerable to attack. I won’t let her fall to one. But what if it’s an ambush? What if a pack is descending on us? These and too many other questions plague my brain.

  With my heart lodged firmly in my throat, I take several more tentative steps toward the bush. Suddenly, the branches part, and a furry rabbit leaps out. Its nose twitches as it sniff the air then darts off, waddling its round, puffy-tailed rump. It bounds several feet, turns and bares oversized teeth, emitting a hissing noise, then disappears from sight.

  “Whew,” I breathe and place my hand above my heart.

  “Wow, that’s not what I thought was going to jump out at us,” June admits.

  “I know, I know.” Several beats pass between us. “This time it was a rabbit. I don’t want to stick around and see what comes for us next.”

  June grabs her bow and her quiver filled with arrows Brom took from her. She shivers and hugs her arms around her waist. “Me neither.”

  “Let’s find the others and get to Cassowary.” I take a fleeting glance at Brom, staring sightlessly into the vast navy abyss. “C’mon.”

  With my sister safe and by my side for the moment, we return to the path I followed to find her. Brom is dead. The threat that remains comes in the form of Urthmen—both mutant and the variety we’ve battled our entire existence. The people of Cassowary, blissfully ignorant of either of their presences, need to be warned; that is, if it isn’t too late already.

  Chapter 15

  Muscles bunching and gathering as my feet take turns pounding the earth, I race back toward the partially clear area where we were ambushed. Swerving around giant weeping willows whose branches soar to the heavens, pounding adrenaline rolls through me. June is beside me. I’m aware of her pants as she, too, urges her body faster, but my vision has narrowed to a pinprick of dim light. All I see is one foot landing in front of the other. One tree flashing by to the left and then on the right. Not far ahead, moonlight spills from overhead, bathing the perfect planes of a face I’m familiar with in incandescent light. I slow and spot Sully. Eyes a deep, russet brown turn toward me. He blinks and only sees me, his lips turned down, then as soon as June comes into view, a wide smile dominates his features.

  “Avery! You found her!” The excitement and relief in his tone reminds me of just how much he loves my sister, and me.

  “Yes, with Brom.” My tone is laced with frost as my upper lip snarls at mention of his name.

  Curling his nose with disdain, Sully glances between June and I. “Are you okay?” His gaze settles on June and a quiver of fury tightens his voice. I know what he means to ask but can’t bring himself to pose the question.

  “I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.” June looks at Sully through her lashes then lifts her chin. “Avery got there just in time.”

  Features relaxing a bit, Sully breathes a sigh. “Good. What happened? Did he get away?” he asks me.

  “No,” I answer and my lips clench around the word. “He’s dead.”

  Eyes widening, Sully’s head jerks back. “How? What happened?”

  My gaze shifts from June to him then to the surrounding woods where Oliver and Lark make their way through the brush followed by Peter and Arnost. “As much as I’d love to tell you the story, we don’t have time. We have to get moving and fast.”

  “The story of what?” Oliver squares his shoulders, searching both my face and June’s.

  “Brom is dead. Avery killed him.” June’s voice echoes with a note of pride.

  Lark’s jaw unhinges, her eyes growing round. “You killed him?” Incredulity touches her tone.

  “Yes, she did,” June answers before I can respond. “He had me pinned against a tree, planned to do things to me.” Her voice trembles and softens, the memory of Brom’s threats achingly fresh in her mind. A part of me wishes I could kill him all over again.

  “Hmm,” Peter’s arms are folded across his chest, a knowing expression marking his features.

  “What?” I tip my chin defiantly and huff.

  Lifting his hands to chest height with his palms facing me, he says, “Nothing, nothing.”

  “No, don’t give me the old nothing routine. Go ahead, tell me.” I roll my hand forward with the same impatience I would to someone blathering on.

  “Tell you what?” He shrugs, an enigmatic smile the only part of his smooth face that moves.

  Is he really being coy now, I think. “I told you so. Go ahead and tell me I told you so. I know it’s coming.”

  Peter chuckles. “I’ll spare you that kind of smug comment. It’s not something I’d say anyway.”

  June shakes her head and a smile grows slowly, the expression similar to the gentle unfurling of a flower to the sun’s rays. She seems to enjoy the banter between Peter and me.

  “Well isn’t that big of you,” I hiss sarcastically and notch my chin high.

  Sully claps his hands together, the sound loud and startling as it echoes through the darkened forest. It reminds me that thanks to Brom, our attention has been diverted for far too long. Time is ticking and with each second that passes, the residents of Cassowary could be that much closer to total annihilation. “We need to get out of here. We don’t have time for bickering,” I say brusquely and level a gaze Peter’s way. I don’t hate him. In fact, I don’t even dislike him. He lacks the predatory gleam in his eyes that I’ve consistently seen in the eyes of every other Urthman I’ve ever encountered.

  “Yes, you’re right,” Peter agrees. “The scout team that found us before is likely not the only one that’s been dispatched. More aren’t far behind, count on that.” Obsidian eyes glimmer with warning.

  Worry forms a greasy ball in my stomach, rolling and churning nauseatingly at the thought of encountering more Uganna. “Let’s go now then.”

  Words of approval ripple through our group before we set off at a pace that is nearly a jog through the forest once more. Countless trees line a labyrinth of paths. Overhead, the infinite navy expanse twinkles with the light of innumerable stars. Opaque clouds pass before the moon causing its silvery sheen to undulate, blinking like a watchful eye in the sky as it makes its journey through the heavens. Our brisk pace eventually transforms to a run as the moon dips lower and lower, the night stretching long, sooty fingers over the world around us. Time is slipping fast. Cassowary, if it hasn’t been stormed yet, is in a position that grows riskier and riskier with every second that passes. Testing the muscles in my legs and pushing myself until my lungs burn, I do not slow until the others in my group need rest. Twice June’s pace slackens until finally she stops. She rests her hands on her knees and gulps the cool night air. Lark grips what’s undoubtedly a painful stitch in her side and Arnost, Oliver and Sully pace frantically as they take small sips from their canteens. A buzz, similar to the charge in the air before a storm, slides with frictionless force all around us. Even Peter, calm and taciturn for the most part, seems frazzled. We are deep in the forest and deep into the night. “C’mon. We need to go.” Peter rolls his hand forward, urging us on.

  No one utters a word. All is silent save for the ragged breaths we take. Even the insects and animals of the woods seem unusually quiet, a fact that sets my nerves on edge.

  We run for what seems like an unending duration, all the while, greens of every shade, darkened and deepened by shadow, rush past. Thin branches whip at my arms and legs, and leaves slap against my cheeks. But I’m unbothered by them. I care only for the safety and well-being of my loved ones. We need to survive to reach the city I hold dear. The first city in our small section of land.

  “Quick! This way!” Peter urges, his voice little more than a series of gasps. He gestures to the left, to a path overrun by low branches and thick, intersecting vines that rise and
fall like serpents. Arnost furrows his brow but says nothing and Sully slides a glance Oliver’s way. The three of them seem confused by Peter’s sudden course shift yet no one’s willing to say as much.

  My sense of direction has been greatly compromised. But still, veering so dramatically off the course we’ve been on for hours now feels all wrong. “That doesn’t seem right.” The words come out with strength that surprises even me. Lark’s head whips around, her dark hair catching the breeze like a banner, and June’s eyes are round, their color matching the silver-blue of the moon’s glow.

  “It’s the quickest way out of the forest,” Peter barely manages through wheezing breaths.

  I turn my head left then right, my eyes scouring the surrounding landscape. All I see is a dizzying array of growth. To dispute Peter at this point would be based solely on a gut feeling, one I can’t substantiate with any real input. I’m so turned around I doubt I’d be able to find my way back to the river on my own. So I follow Peter blindly. We all do. And hope that he’s leading us to Cassowary.

  With a steady stream of wind rushing in my face, I race over uncharted terrain. Adrenaline courses through my veins, pumping in time with my heart as blood pounds against my skin with such force it threatens to break free of my skin. When we arrive at a stone wall after at least an hour of running, the hope I harbored of arriving at Cassowary flags. Tall and composed of smooth, carefully placed rocks, it doesn’t rise as high as our city walls do, yet it manages to be an imposing structure nonetheless. It threatens more, in fact.

  Unease creeps up the length of my spine, a sense of impending doom crowding me. I slip my sword from the scabbard at my back, gripping it in front of me, heeding the instinctive danger I perceive. The rumble of Sully’s voice sends a wash of goose bumps shivering over my flesh, reaffirming my uneasiness. “What is this place?” he demands. He pulls his blades from the sheath at his hip. Arnost’s daggers make an appearance as well, and June loads her bow with an arrow from her quiver.