Reign of Shadows (12 page)

W
HEN WE LEFT
the Black Woods, it was like stepping out from a dream. There were trees, but fewer and more spread out. There was also the occasional fallow field and forgotten cottage. With less foliage obscuring the sky, it actually seemed brighter. Moonlight dappled the land. I could see farther, but of course that meant we could be seen, too.

Luna seemed to sense the change, too, and not simply in the terrain. She sensed it in me. Her expression became more pensive and her face repeatedly turned in my direction as though she was seeking something from me—something I couldn't give her.

More than once, she had made me feel like who I used to be.
I couldn't be that person anymore. I couldn't get lost in her smiles or her voice or her touch on my skin. I definitely couldn't get lost in her lips. Not if I wanted to keep us both alive.

A bat swell passed, obscuring the sky for a few moments, hiding the glow of the moon.

Luna didn't even glance up to the sky. She simply kept moving.

I frowned. She was different from that girl I first met in the tower. It was bound to happen. Out here, no one went untouched.

She fell in beside me and I spared her a glance. I reached out as though to touch her, but stopped short. There was no need. I didn't want to witness her break. I didn't want her to turn into this twisted, hardened scrap of what she used to be.

I didn't want her to be me.

“We've left the forest,” she stated more than asked, biting her lip. It was a nervous habit of hers. She did it often, drawing my stare to her mouth. I dragged my gaze away and scrubbed a hand over my face. That mouth was my hell. I'd almost kissed it.
Her.
Or perhaps she had almost kissed me. Whoever was to blame, it had almost happened. And it couldn't happen again.

Together like this, fighting for our lives, it was a natural urge, but one that would only prove distracting. The last thing I wanted was to give her a false idea of what we were to each other. She was the kind of girl who believed in love even in this bleak life.

“Yes, we have,” I answered, my voice curt even to my own ears.

“It smells differently,” she whispered.

I hesitated before asking, “How so?”

“Cleaner somehow.”

“Less rotting vegetation. And greater winds.”

Things weren't going to be as simple anymore. The risks and dangers were greater now. With the Black Woods behind us, there would be more dwellers and more people. The wind howled in the vastness, and the lack of any other sound made my skin prickle. Even the smallest animal knew to make itself scarce out here, or at least the art of making itself invisible and unheard.

Another light rain started, drumming all around us as we moved forward in the gloom. It didn't leave us soaking wet, but the clammy damp of our clothes sticking to skin could hardly be called comfortable.

Her plaits hung over her shoulder in heavy skeins, and her normally pale skin practically glowed like moonstone in the near dark. Her collarbones stood out above the neckline of her bodice and dark shadows smudged the skin under her eyes like bruises. Something inside me twisted at the sight. She really needed to eat more. And rest more.

I faced forward again as we left the dense foliage farther and farther behind, gripping my bow at the ready as we walked into a maw of wasteland that had once been working fields.

I hesitated, scanning the horizon, searching for any woods to pass through that would offer some protection. The skyline loomed ahead, a dark gray plain etched against the moonlit sky. There was no easy way around it. We'd have to cross straight
through that open space. Our boots crunched over short, withered-up stalks of sugarcane that even the rain hadn't helped to moisten.

Every crunching step made me cringe. I wanted nothing more than to be off this deadened field and onto softer ground. Quieter ground.

I continued to scan the barren landscape, peering as far as I could into the stretch of nothingness. I flexed my grip around my bow.

In the distance, the outline of a copse of trees materialized against the dark. “This way,” I murmured, nodded as though she could see my gesture.

Shaking my head, I led her across the field. As we drew closer, I could see that a small farmer's hut backed against the copse. The crank on the old, dilapidated well turned in the breeze.

“Do you hear that?” Her hand fell on my arm.

I stopped, listening.

“It's a voice.” Her head whipped back and forth from me to the cottage. “Someone's in there.”

My gaze narrowed on the cottage. It looked abandoned. The windows dark, gaping holes. The door was ajar, hanging off a broken hinge.

“There it is again. Someone is in trouble inside there.”

I tensed, aiming my arrow at the hut. I didn't hear anything, but I knew to trust her in this.

She huffed in frustration and lunged ahead, quick as a darting hare.

“Luna!” I dropped my bow and tried to grab her back, but she was too fast.

Swinging my bow over my shoulder, I took off after her, reaching her just as she crossed the threshold.

T
HE MAN WAS
in the middle of the room. He reeked of sweat and blood. I could even detect the acrid sting of fear. He was still whispering in that pitiable voice that first alerted me to him. “Help . . . help . . . me,” he pleaded between labored pants of breath.

I stepped forward to reach him, but Fowler's hand fell hard on my arm. “What are you doing?”

“He needs help.” I waved in his general direction.

“You can't just go charging into every situation, Luna.”

“I charged into your situation, did I not? Do you regret that?”

He growled low, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. “Fine. You
stay here. I'll check him.”

His boots thudded on the wood floor as he advanced cautiously. The floor creaked beneath him as he squatted. I hovered close behind. Clothing rustled and I presumed he was searching the man for weapons. His ministrations must not have been gentle enough. The man groaned and Fowler hushed him softly. “Quiet now. We don't want any unwelcome visitors, do we?”

“I look bad.” The man coughed and gurgled blood. “But you should see the other one. It won't be going back underground.” He laughed, and the sound sputtered and twisted into violent hacking.

“He's unarmed,” Fowler said to me as if there was still some doubt.

This man didn't want to hurt anyone. He was the hurt one. He just wanted the pain to stop.

I hastened forward and dropped down beside Fowler. I stretched out my hand to touch the stranger, but Fowler's hand on my wrist stopped me.

I turned my face in his direction. “Something wrong?”

“He's . . .”

“What?” I asked.

“He's missing some of his face.”

“Oh.” The word expelled from me in a horrified rush.

“I went out at midlight,” the stranger wheezed. “Thought I could get back in time . . . so stupid. I went too far. It was just one dweller, but I didn't see him until he was on me.”

Fowler spoke into my ear. “There's toxin all over his wounds.”

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Amose.”

“Amose?” I moistened lips that felt suddenly dry. “Can I hold your hand? Would that be all right with you?” I had barely finished asking the question before he seized my hand, squeezing it tightly as if staying connected to me somehow helped him bear the agony.

“I had a daughter once. She had small hands like yours.” He paused on a pained gasp. “She married. Moved away to Cydon . . . maybe she's still there. . . .”

“It's a big village. I am sure she is there and thriving.” I had no idea if the village still stood, but I would say anything to him in that moment that could provide comfort.

Fowler tensed beside me and I could read his thoughts. His judgment. No one thrived.

“I'm so . . . thirsty,” Amose rasped.

I reached for my water. Instantly, Fowler closed his fingers around my hand, each finger a biting imprint on my cold skin.

“He's thirsty,” I explained as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

“We have a precious amount of supplies.”

“Then take this out of my share,” I said tightly.

He cursed. “Damn it, Luna. We'll need every bit of that. This man is going to be dead soon. I know it's hard, but surviving means making hard choices.”

His words were a splash of cold reality. He was right and I resented him for it. I turned my face toward the man wheezing
for air on the ground. He was alone in this world. With half his face missing and his blood soaking into the floor of the hut, his only thoughts were for his child. I couldn't refuse him this relief.

Fowler's hand squeezed mine. “Be strong, Luna.”

Anger spiked through me and I jerked my hand free. “Not in this. If turning my back on him makes me strong, then so be it. I'm weak.” I slipped a hand under Amose's head, lifting him up so his mouth could find the rim of my flask. He slurped greedily. “Easy,” I advised when he broke into a sputtering cough.

“Thank you,” he huffed.

I lowered him gingerly back down, plugged my flask shut, and claimed his hand again.

Fowler made a sound of disgust deep in his throat and I squared my shoulders, pretending that I didn't care what he thought of me.

“I suppose we're staying,” he grumbled.

I tossed the words over my shoulder in a rushed whisper: “I doubt this will take long.”

He said nothing. After a while, he moved away, his boots thudding a hard line to the door to stand watch. Or perhaps he simply didn't want to witness this.

I settled on the cold floor, resting Amose's head in my lap, careful to touch only his hair and not the toxin-soaked wounds of his face. “Tell me about your daughter. What's her name?”

“Nessa.”

“That's a pretty name.”

“Yes. She was . . . is beautiful. Like her mother. Like you.”

He touched me then, pressing one finger directly over my heart. “You have it in here.” He coughed violently, his hand dropping away from me. “It's a beauty that nothing can take away. Not this world or its monsters.” His voice faded. His breath grew too labored for him to talk anymore, just a heavy cadence of puffs and wheezes.

I stopped asking questions and just talked, about everything and nothing, swatting away the bloated gnats and flies that circled him, hungry for their next meal. Conscious of Fowler standing vigil at the door, I whispered a steady stream of words. Stories. We had a few books in the tower left by my parents. Perla often read aloud to me. One of them was a collection of love poems. It was my favorite. I would hold the rich leather-bound volume in my hands, caressing the pages, stroking where the words rested, imagining my mother holding the book, reading from it. It was my connection to her. I had most of the poems memorized and I recited them now, pausing at the scuff of Fowler's boot on the ground, mortified that he was listening to me share words that were so personal, that spoke of longings etched so deeply in my soul. “And in your arms, I find truth . . . the burn of an unbroken light.”

Amose's sawing breaths grew more labored and spaced apart until he took a last shuddering drink of air. He went utterly still.

Silence pressed down, a palpable weight on my shoulders as I bowed over him. There was only the noise of whirring insects circling his lifeless body.

I held his rough hand even as the warmth started to slip away from him.

Fowler approached behind me, his right heel hitting the ground a little harder than his left in his trademark tread. “Come on, Luna.”

“This doesn't even affect you. Does it?” My lips felt numb as I spoke. And yet my body didn't feel numb. All of me ached as raw and exposed as an open wound. I felt too much. That's what Fowler was probably thinking. He thought me soft and weak and fragile. He didn't need to say the words for me to know.

“You get accustomed to it.”

“I suppose that's true.” Out here, how could anything else be? He had seen more death than me. Except I didn't want this to be my normal. I shook my head. “But I don't want that. I don't want to be like you.” I turned and lifted my face in his direction, my voice cracking in supplication, as though he could somehow stop this from happening to me.

His fingers closed around my arm, his touch solid and impersonal as he helped me to my feet. “I don't want to be like me either.” There was a hard edge to his voice that made something inside me wither away with the realization that this world could bend and twist people into things even they didn't want to become. That perhaps I was destined to change whether I wished it or not.

He led me from the hut. I inhaled the musky air as soon as we cleared the threshold, the coppery-sweet odor of death less strong. There was that at least.

“Thank you for letting me stay with him until the end,” I said, deciding some acknowledgment needed to be given. “I know
you didn't want to. Perhaps you're not as hard as you think—”

“You better hope that's not true. For both our sakes. I can't afford to be soft. Stop asking it of me.” He strode away, his purposeful strides biting into the soft ground.

I sucked in a cold breath and followed after him. “He didn't deserve to die alone.”

“We all die alone, Luna.”

It was a bleak thought that chased me as we continued on our way.

W
E WALKED FOR
hours, staying close to the edge of the copse until we had to break out across barren landscape again. Wind buffeted us, cutting like knives on our exposed skin. I dug in my pack and gave her a scarf to wrap around her neck and cover her chin.

Finally, in the far distance a grove of trees appeared. Twisted, ghostly shapes, they stood in perfect symmetry. A long-ago orchard, the branches cracked like old bones, stripped of leaves and whatever fruit used to grow there. I led us in that direction, eager to leave behind the overexposed grassland and give us some relief from the bitter wind.

Once we stepped inside the orchard's maze, I could see it was vast with rows and rows of trees.

As we moved down one intersecting path, the trees arching overhead, she asked, “What is this place? The trees grow very precisely every few feet without fail.” She inched toward one of the blackened trunks, pressing her palm against the tough skin, testing its texture.

“They were planted that way. It's an orchard.” I flicked my gaze over one gnarled-up tree that I passed. “Was an orchard.”

She hurried to catch up. “What kind of—”

“It's impossible to identify anymore. They're dead.”

She held silent after that. Now that our steps fell quieter, I moved at a faster pace, on direct course for Ortley.

There were places like Ortley that had managed to cling to life. I'd passed through a few of them since I left Relhok City. Those pockets of civilization were like that dead field of sugarcane behind us, rotting, withered echoes of the past, still fighting for their last breath even after all these years. Disease, famine, or dwellers still infiltrated, but the inhabitants managed to hang on, growing smaller and weaker after every invasion.

Not Allu though. Miles off the coastline, the island was free of dwellers and close enough to reach by boat. Its surrounding waters yielded plenty of bounty to eat. I just had to cross a continent to reach it. And I had to do it with her.

I glanced back again to catch her wringing out the edge of her tunic. Water dripped free. When she released the fabric, it unfurled, wrinkled beyond repair.

I scanned the horizon and faced forward again, thinking of our destination. Ortley was one of the only cities east of Relhok still standing. I'd heard of it all my life.

The village was reportedly fortified. Much like Relhok City, there was a population that had managed to survive the dwellers better than most. On occasion, merchants from Relhok traveled there to trade. Of the countless men the king sent over the years, a few returned. A type of kelp grew in the lake outside the once prosperous city. It contained healing properties useful when brewed. It could also be cooked into a soup, which was always convenient when you were on the brink of starvation.

I walked steadily down one of the several paths that crisscrossed the orchard. That kelp, along with other supplies, would be useful to acquire for the rest of our journey.

Food mattered. Weapons. Labor and skills. Those were things to trade. I could offer my services and work for a few days. It wouldn't be the first time. It was a long journey to Allu. A few days' sweating for some supplies would be worthwhile.

I glanced back at Luna, uncertain whether she would agree with my plan. If I worked, I would have to find something to do with her during that time. I was sure suitable work could be found for her, too. She had her uses. Like saving my life. And her hearing was better than my own.

She stopped, her head tilting, chin lifting in that way of hers that signaled she heard something even now.

I moved to her side and stopped.

A nearby bird trilled in the distance, so I didn't think any
dwellers were close. They always fell silent when those creatures were wandering in the vicinity.

I touched her elbow. “What?” I released the word into her ear, a mere sigh. A gust of breath that I knew she could hear.

“It's not dwellers,” she murmured, precisely what I already knew. Her smooth brow creased as though she was trying to make sense of the sound, a reminder that her experiences were limited.

She lowered her face, her expression scrunching up in frustration. She pressed fingertips to her forehead. “Something else is out there.” Her nostrils flared. “Rotten and sour. Like death.” The faintest tremor shook her voice as she said this.

I studied her pale face, the slim slope of her nose and rounded cheeks so smooth and unblemished, free from exposure to the elements.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps. I whirled in a swift circle, one hand going to her hip, keeping her behind me as I moved. I slipped my bow down from my shoulder and into position and grabbed an arrow from the quiver at my back, nocking it into place.

My ears strained, picking out one . . . two people. And they were definitely people. Their tread was nothing like the shuffling drag of dwellers. They moved with quick purpose.

My shoulders tensed as I held myself rigid. Luna's breath fell swiftly behind me, but I didn't look at her again. My gaze skipped over our surroundings, aiming my arrow at empty air, waiting for them to show themselves.

Then all at once, the sound stopped. They stopped.

They were out there. I knew it with every fiber of my being. The blood rushed in my ears. I continued to rotate, half expecting them to jump out in front of me.

“They're here,” she whispered hoarsely the moment before they emerged, materializing in the distant dark.

They stepped out from behind a row of trees onto the path, limned in moonlight, almost like her voice had summoned them.

Awash in the moon's glow, they looked like a pair of corpses and not men at all. They moved with the eerie grace of animals, walking like they belonged to the night, comfortable in their skin and in the moon-soaked air.

They turned to face us, and we all froze for a moment of awareness, staring at one another across the distance.

As though a spark had been lit, they moved again, advancing in our direction. I held still as they approached, bracing myself for the confrontation. There was no sense in running. Not with Luna in tow. I didn't want them at our backs where I couldn't see them either.

As they came closer, I was able to pick out details and features. They were tall and thin, rangy as wolves with clothes that might have fit them once but now hung loosely. Their ragged shirts hung off the knobs of their shoulders like loose curtains.

I trained my arrow on the one walking lead. His cheeks were sunken, the bones of his face like blades under the skin, and that only made his eyes appear bigger, so dark they looked whiteless.

“Hello, there.” His voice was a hoarse scratch. “Just the two of you?” Those soulless eyes flicked over my shoulder to Luna. He craned his neck, lifting up off his heels a bit to get a look at her.

I stepped a little to the side, attempting to block her from view.

He settled back down on his feet and leveled his gaze on me. “Haven't seen another person for days.”

“Likewise,” I responded, my voice flat, arrow still aimed at him.

“That rainstorm was a bit of good fortune. Not that I enjoy getting soaked to the bone, but at least we didn't have to worry 'bout those dwellers none. They never much prefer hunting in the rain.” He cocked his head at my prolonged silence. “Rain's gone. Dwellers should start hunting again soon.”

“Say something I don't know.”

He frowned. “Are you going to shoot me with that, boy?”

“I don't know you.” I lifted one shoulder in half a shrug. “Good enough reason to shoot someone.”

The strangers exchanged glances. The leader laughed lightly. “A little standoffish. I understand that. Can't be too careful.”

My adrenaline pumped. I'd been in dangerous situations before, but Luna being here changed things. My blood had never rushed through my veins so fiercely when it was just me alone.

He nodded to his friend. “We understand your hesitation.” His liquid-dark eyes flicked over my shoulder, trying to get to
Luna. “Especially with a girl traveling with you.”

My stomach dipped. He didn't even disguise his interest in her.

His raspy voice continued. “Gunner here knows these parts. Grew up as a boy nearby. Isn't that right?” He flicked his gaze to his companion and back to me.

Gunner nodded and spit a dark string of saliva out the side of his mouth. “Don't know if you're familiar with this part of the country, but there's an old monastery not far from here. It fell years ago. It's abandoned now.” He pointed beyond us into the dark. “Just over those hills.”

I didn't dare take my eyes off the two of them to follow the direction of his finger. Luna hardly even breathed behind me. If it wasn't for the light pressure of her hand on the small of my back, I would have wondered if she was still even there.

“We were going to push on to the monastery, hole up there to dry out. I'm certain the girl would like to get warm and dry. What do you think? Want to join us? We're better in numbers, I always say.”

I never subscribed to that bit of philosophy. Greater numbers drew attention.

He smiled, pulling his narrow, sharp-angled face tighter, revealing a mouthful of rotting, mangled teeth. It was more of a grimace than a smile. I had no doubt that he was insincere. The moment I presented my back he'd stick a blade in it.

Gunner followed suit and grinned, too, rubbing at a dark bit of spit staining his chin. “You should join us. The walls are thick
and the ground is stone lined. No dwellers there.”

I resisted asking why this place wasn't occupied if it was such a haven. There was no sense in engaging. We wouldn't be joining them.

My attention returned to the leader. We held each other's gaze for a long moment, silently measuring, before I answered. “We're fine just the two of us.”

He looked beyond me again, narrowing in on Luna with such intent focus, I knew that we needed to get away from these two quickly. At least I hoped it was only two of them. I scanned the surrounding trees quickly before looking back at them again, already knowing what needed to be done.

“It's only us,” the leader offered, clearly reading me and trying to offer reassurance.

Luna's slight hand shifted against the small of my back and that simple touch sent a bolt of determination through me. I would get us out of this.

“Fowler,” Luna whispered.

I winced at the faint sound of her voice, angry suddenly that she was here and at such risk. I almost hated Sivo right then for placing her here with me even though I knew she wouldn't have been safe with him either.

I pulled my arrow back tighter, stretching the string, letting them know I wouldn't hesitate to let go. “We're fine on our own. We like it that way.”

The leader's dark eyes seemed to glow at my words. “I can see that you're fine.” His gaze flitted back to me. “Perhaps we want
to be fine, too, eh? Have a little bit of what you have.”

Luna's breath caught behind me.

At last, he was revealing his true nature. “I'm not the sharing kind.”

Gunner laughed lightly, his hand moving to the satchel that bulged out from his hip. “We men need to stand together out here, friend. We're not your enemy.”

“I'm not your friend,” I snarled.

Words didn't need to pass for them to convey their intent. The dwellers weren't the only monsters out there. There were two in front of me.

Finally the two men looked from me and exchanged a long glance. “Perhaps you're not aware of what you have there.”

“Oh?” My lip curled up over my teeth. “What's that?”

Gunner frowned and looked at his companion, giving him a swift shake of his head. “Anselm,” he said in a voice low with warning, his long, bone-thin fingers flexing over that bulging satchel as though it were his most prized possession.

Anselm held up a hand palm out toward his friend in an agitated gesture that was meant to silence him.

I smiled thinly. He thought he could handle me.

“You haven't heard the decree,” Anselm added, baiting me. “You're sitting on a gold mine and don't even know it.”

I took the bait. “What are you talking about?”

Another meaningful glance passed between the men, and then Anselm sighed, as though relenting. “The king of Relhok has commanded the death of every girl between the ages of
fifteen and twenty.” He tried to peer over my shoulder again. “I'd say she's in that range.” He shrugged. “If there's any doubt of age, it's been advised to take no chances.”

I felt Luna shudder behind me.

My mind raced, trying to understand the motive behind a decree for the annihilation of a certain group. Young females, no less. It made no sense. The king was maniacal, but he didn't want to end mankind. Enough of our population had been lost to dwellers, disease, and starvation. An occasional innocent slaughtered as a sacrifice was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

“Why?” The word was more of a thought that materialized than an actual question I was putting to Anselm or Gunner.

It's not as though I expected these assassins in front of me to have any insight into the king of Relhok's inner thoughts, but I was reeling. Understanding slowly sank in, like the teeth of an animal latching onto sinew and muscle. This was why Dagne was cut down. I understood now why they had killed her and left Sivo, Perla, and Madoc alive. They were acting on orders.

“He's a mad king, listening to that crazed Oracle.” Anselm shrugged and took a step forward. “Does it really matter why?”

I matched him a step, pushing Luna back, too. “Why do it? What's in it for you?” It was a lot of trouble killing girls.

“Every head gets you a month's rations.” Anselm shrugged. “Sorry, friend. Who wouldn't take an offer like that?”

Luna made a choking sound behind me.