Darkthaw (20 page)

I bite back a cry.

Nico.

The woman takes him to a bucket by the horses and motions for him to wash. They're alone, but we're too far away to try anything—that woman would raise the alarm and the men would be over to us in a heartbeat.

The flap on the big tent opens, and the dark-haired man backs out, awkward. Like he's struggling. He's carrying something—no, someone.

The red-haired woman turns Nico away as the big man emerges.

The blond man is helping him, and as they leave the tent I see what they're struggling with: they're carrying another man. From here it's hard to say what's wrong, whether he's sleeping or dead. They shamble across the camp, heading for the river. Toward us.

We duck lower, watching from beneath the branches. When they reach the riverbank, they set the man down none too gentle. Drop him, more like.

He's not sleeping.

His skin is riddled with angry, bloody welts, his eyes are rivers of blood. His mouth is open, his tongue is black.

The river roars loud in my ears, drowning out their talk, but it seems they're arguing about something. Finally the big man grabs the man by the legs and nods his head at the blond man. The two haul the corpse up and position themselves parallel to the river. They swing their arms, once, twice, and on the third they let go.

The body drops into the water with a violent splash. It bobs, blackened face breaking the surface, and then it is washed away in the torrent.

Nausea sweeps me.

We used to do this at the settlement—put the dead in the Cleansing Waters. There is no ceremony here, though. No final goodbyes.

Isi touches my arm, gestures with his head, telling me to retreat.

We return to Daniel and lead him farther away, back into the fireweed of the dead forest, before we speak again.

“That man,” I say, “he had the Bleed.”

Isi nods.

“Those two helping—are those the abandoners from your people? I thought I saw a crest on the man's sleeve.”

Isi shakes his head like he doesn't know.

“What about those people who are shackled?”

“I do not know,” he says, taking his knife from its sheath and holding it out to me, handle-first. “Keep Daniel here.”

“I'm coming with you!”

“Not this time.”

“There's at least a dozen of them, probably more. You can't just walk in there expecting a welcome.”

“I won't. I will watch. Learn the camp, learn where everyone is.”

“And then?”

“Then I'll do what my
moshum
would,” he says. “Wait for night. Then get in and out like a fox in a pheasant's nest. They won't know until they look for Nico in the morning.”

Fear rises in my throat like bile.

“Stay here.” He presses the knife into my hand. “If I'm not back an hour after dark, go and do not look back. I will catch up.”

“Your wound—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

“My wound does not slow me. But you are very slow now.” He looks at my foot. My bleedin' foot! I scowl, my
heart sinking as I realize he's right. He nods at Daniel, who is now blessedly out of earshot. “He needs you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he wheels and is gone, silent as anything.

We wait in the dead forest. I sing Daniel songs in a half whisper, making little puppets out of twigs on my palm, all the while keeping one ear to the woods around us. I try to distract myself from the quickening in my chest. I wanted to talk it through with Isi, make a plan. But he makes decisions so bleedin' quick.

That blood-riddled corpse surfaces in my mind. The settlement tales described the evil of the
malmaci
taking hold exactly that way. The Bleed is here, in the forest. And these people don't have the remedy.

We eat our supper of berries, and the sky turns twilight. I cover Daniel in my cloak, wrapping him against the chill that descends.

And suddenly there's a sound off in the trees: a ringing.

My heart speeds. I grab up Daniel and run several strides to a fallen log. I tuck the both of us down behind it.

Has Isi been found out? Is the camp ringing an alarm?

The ringing trills toward us. Tinkling. Cheery. It's halting now and again but getting louder. It isn't a big bell ringing at a distance; it's a small bell ringing real close—like the jingle of brass we used to put on the sheep we'd graze out atop the cliffs in the summer.

I peer over the log and see something large shift behind the dead spruce. A deer?

No.

A horse.

Fear turns to elation. A horse!

I push myself up.

Did it break its tether? Surely Leon's men wouldn't chance grazing their horses out overnight?

“Em!” Daniel scrambles up and grabs at my arm. “It's the horse from the big fire, I know it!”

“Shhh.” I pat his hand. “Stay here a minute. We don't want to spook it.”

He nods, clasping his hands together and bouncing on his toes. I turn and head toward it, slow. It's moving funny, jerking as it steps. As I get close, I notice its front legs are bound together, like those men at the fort. The strange, halting rhythm of the bell is made by the horse trying to take a bigger step than the bindings will allow. It has to move both forelegs at once. I frown, anger heating me and disappearing as I figure the strange sight: it's a way to graze a horse out without it running away.

Still, seems like these men wouldn't want to risk having it taken by someone else. I notice it's a she—her belly is swollen with a foal. Mayhap they thought she wouldn't stray far in her state. I smile at the notion she wandered farther than they thought she would. There's no way this is the horse from that burning homestead, but I won't tell Daniel that.

He can believe in whatever gives him hope.

I coo as I approach her, hand out for her to smell. She huffs out her air, her nostrils flaring, but doesn't bolt. Her eyes are calm. I inhale her earthy, familiar scent and rub a hand along her neck.

She has a halter on. Could be led. Could be ridden? I pat her neck, run my hand over her huge, tight belly. She must be close to having her foal—not fit to carry my weight. But Daniel weighs next to nothing.

I swallow and look at the sky. Getting dark now, the sun has long disappeared through the skeleton branches.

I unclip the bell from around the mare's neck and drop it into the deadfall. Freeing her legs isn't too hard; the bindings aren't fussy.

She takes no notice, stretching her neck to reach some long grass on the far side of a stump.

I fumble with my long
ceinture
, stripping it off and tucking Isi's knife into the side of my leggings, under my shirt. I tie the
ceinture's
tassels to the halter—it'll have to do as a lead rope—and walk her back to our spot in the fireweed.

Daniel is still bobbing with excitement.

“Don't scare her,” I say.

He sidles close and touches her shoulder. Rubs her nose. She snorts, speckling his hand with snot, and mouths his arm up to his shoulder. He giggles as she rubs her lips through his hair.

Kane's voice, telling me about Daniel and Dottie that day by the river, comes over me. My heart clenches tight, despite my relief at seeing Daniel smile like this. He bends and grabs some of the grass at his feet. The mare takes it from him, her lips flapping against his palm and leaving a trail of saliva. He wipes his palm on his pant leg and looks up at me in delight.

“You want to see if she'll carry you?” I ask.

He nods, eager.

I hang on to her lead in one hand and pick Daniel up by the armpits. “Just put your leg up gentle,” I instruct.

The mare bends her neck for more grass as he settles on top of her. I let her get a mouthful first, then cluck my tongue like Matisa used to, pulling her head up. I lead them in the small circle around the clearing. Daniel holds tight to the mane, like Isi taught him on his horse. His little legs are stretched wide across her huge back, but he's steady enough up there. And she doesn't seem to mind. She also responds real well when I tug her this way and that. She's trained—like Matisa's horses.

After several minutes of walking around in circles, I stop and help Daniel off.

He's grinning wide.

“I'm calling her Lucky,” he tells me.

I nod and let him take the makeshift rope in his hand, settling myself on the ground.

Isi said to wait an hour.

The horse can't carry us both, so she would be pretty well useless if we needed to get away quick. Still, I feel better having her around, knowing Isi won't have to carry Daniel anymore.

Or Nico.

Unease rises in my chest. As darkness falls around us, it grows. I listen to Daniel talking soft to the mare, but I can't stop thinking about that camp. About all of the people Isi needs to get past to get to Nico. Would've been better to create a distraction so he could get in and out unseen. He didn't allow us any time to speak on it at all—he just went. Bleeding from his side, clear in pain. Typical. Rash. Stubborn.

I jump up and start to pace, digging into my bad foot on each turn.

Daniel would stay here alone, now this horse is here. I could convince him, I know I could. Mayhap I could steal another horse while Isi gets Nico. We'd be able to get away from here fast. The mare seems dependable, calm, for being about to give birth and all—

Bleed it!

Don't know if Isi thought of stealing a horse; don't know exactly what he was planning. He might only have time to rescue Nico and get away.
If
he can rescue Nico. I stamp my foot in frustration. Why did he up and leave like that? I grab my pack.

“Daniel.”

He stops petting the horse and looks at me.

I make my voice bright as I approach. “You're going to stay here with Lucky.” I take the
ceinture
from him and untie it from the base of the halter, retying the tassels on the sides of her face.

“Stay here?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. I fold the sash in half lengthwise and loop it over Lucky's nose. I loop it through the halter on the opposite side, trying to fashion something like the harness on Matisa's horse. It's bulky and ugly, but it'll have to do. Best to have her ready. “When I get back, you can ride her.”

“Back from where?”

“I'm just going to help Isi.”

His face crumples. He's going to burst into tears.

“Daniel.” I make my voice stern. “You need to be a brave boy.”

His eyes brim. “But I don't want you to leave.”

“Hey,” I say, kneeling in front of him and grasping his arms. “You remember that story Isi told you? 'Bout him helping that bird back into its nest when he was a boy? Even though it was scary to climb that tree?”

He stares at me.

“It'll be like that.”

“Isi said it wasn't good that he did that,” Daniel says.

Almighty
. “Well, he was keeping the baby bird safe from wolves, wasn't he? So you need to be brave and stay with Lucky. She's going to have a baby soon.”

He looks at the mare's swollen belly. “She is?”

“She is. And you need to stay with her and make sure she's safe.” I make my voice firm again. “You need to be brave like Isi. You sing that rabbit song.” I hum a bit of it, to remind him. “I bet Lucky will like that song.”

This coaxes a smile from him.

“Stay right here.” I give him the loop of the
ceinture
. “Don't let her take a notion and wander off for grass.”

“But you'll come back? Soon?”

“Straight away.” I smooth his hair and squeeze his shoulder.

He nods, his eyes wide.

I don't think another thought about what I'm doing. I turn and head for the Keep.

THE CAMP IS LIT ON THE PERIPHERY WITH LAMPS
like the ones Matisa brought to the fortification—the ones that need a kind of liquid to burn. I crouch low in the brush Isi and I were hiding in earlier, searching for him. The fire in the center is blazing, and I count seven men and one woman sitting around it, including that big man with the symbol on his arm. Those shackled men are gone, and there's no sign of the red-haired woman who was with Nico earlier today. One of the pale men leans forward, his body shaking. As he straightens, wrist to his mouth, I see he's coughing.

His body convulses as he pulls himself to his feet and heads for the tents.

The tent Nico was in this afternoon is quiet; nothing stirs. The nearby river seems louder in the quiet, drowning out the campfire talk. It'll hide any ruckus in the tent, that's sure. I just can't figure how Isi will get in without being seen.

My attention goes to the horses that are tied to a spruce
tree nearest my side of the camp. The trees there are sparse; the beasts are too out in the open for me to untie without being seen. If Isi had waited for me, I could've created a distraction while he freed the horses. I could have—