A Brutal Justice

by Jess Corban

  And then? I don’t know.

  The baby’s features sour, his mouth turning down in a tremble.

  “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

  I quickly stand, shifting him to my shoulder, but that feels awkward too. So I bounce him, walking in a circle.

  This is so much harder than shooting arrows.

  “Jo?” I plead.

  “You’re doing fine, Rei. I’m almost done.”

  Right. I roll my eyes at her and keep bouncing and walking, bouncing and walking. Another circle around camp and his nonstop wiggling stills. His lips part in relaxed sleep. I put him to sleep. “I put him to sleep!” I yell excitedly. He jolts awake, then lets me know what he thinks of my rude interruption.

  Jonalyn sets the last of the dinner portions on a large banana leaf and relieves me of my duty.

  “Thanks,” we say in unison.

  She laughs. “You know, you aren’t as much of a novice as you think. You looked pretty natural to me,” she says with a wink.

  I don’t believe a word of it, but still, there was something surprisingly satisfying in holding him. Or did the golden hour of evening trick me into affinity once again? Love a thing at noon, and your amor is real.

  Or at midnight, when he’s crying his face off, I muse.

  We eat bread and cheese, dried meat and banana in gratified silence. Neechi and I work to start a fire, despite the intolerable heat—for protection, as Fallon advised while on border patrol. After our meal, we gather piles of fronds and brush to create makeshift beds. Jonalyn, who has never slept a night away from a mattress, tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position next to the baby. Neechi settles easily enough, used to sleeping on straw mats. He’s snoring in five minutes.

  As the only present company able to fight, Bri and I agree to take turns standing watch over the others and the horses. But even while Bri takes the first shift, I keep my weapons close. Strange sounds awaken with the moon—croaking and chattering, howling and grating. Strange but not altogether unfamiliar. They remind me of sleeping in the tree hut. The pervasive hum of Jungle night grows louder, deafening but strangely soothing, and exhaustion eventually overcomes apprehension, sweeping me into the realm of dreams.

  Our second day in the Jungle goes by largely as the first. With each passing hour, the monotonous surroundings tighten their hold. The farther we trek, the more I sense the circle of untamable danger around us widening, weighing heavier—feel the pulse of it in my limbs. How many thousands—millions—of trees surround us? How many menacing fer-de-lance or deadly pumas lurk out of sight?

  And for Siyah’s sake, how many times does that baby need to be fed and changed?

  Aside from an occasional interesting animal—a bright parrot, a particularly large iguana, a cat resembling a miniature jaguar—we rely on our only other form of entertainment: singing. Like good Nedéans, we three women rehearse every song we can remember, from the Nedéan anthem to the spirituals predating the foremothers. I sing to pass the time. I sing to distract myself from worrying about Callisto.

  I found her dead-asleep on her side this morning. For a sickening moment, I feared the worst. But after three smacks to her rump, she lumbered to her feet. She seems okay now, so I sing and force my mind away from any other possibility.

  By midday, a watery rushing tempts us slightly north. We aren’t disappointed. Encountering a swiftly moving river, nearly half the width of the Jabiru, we fill our water flasks and let the horses drink their fill. After lunch, Neechi submerges his hat in the blue-green water, filling it like a basin and dumping it over his head. Water gushes down his face and neck, soaking his clothes. We all laugh. Then we realize he’s onto something.

  I’m first to shed my boots and run into the river, splashing up to my neck in the cool water. It pulls me gently off my feet, and I let myself float, bare toes poking above the current, taking in the cobalt sky above. Bri jumps in soon after. Even Jonalyn follows, wading waist-deep, letting the coolness tickle the baby’s feet. The simple pleasure of moving water against skin, the distinct scent of soggy wood and river fish, sets all our nerves at ease, and we giggle like children. It feels good to laugh. To forget for a moment that our fate depends on my figuring out another clue, and soon.

  While we dry out on a downed log, I contemplate the river. “I wonder if it’s the same water as the falls on El Fuego.”

  “And that matters because . . . ?”

  A pity our little dip didn’t permanently dampen Bri’s mounting testiness. Oh well. “If it is, we could follow it, that’s all.”

  She stuffs a hunk of sausage into her mouth. “Trekking through hell along a river sounds slightly preferable to trekking through hell. Might as well.”

  I can always count on Bri’s bluntness to boil a decision down to sense. “Along the river, then.”

  “Along the river” proves more difficult in practice than in theory. Fueled by a permanent water source, the tree trunks widen and the brush thickens. Thankfully, we also encounter lengthy sections where wet-season flooding swept the banks clear, leaving behind near-level terrain we can traverse on horseback. In other places the river widens, stretching itself so thin we can ride along the shallow edges.

  And so we press on, climbing up and down, along and through. The heat, humidity, bugs, and obstacles become an ever-present suffering, acknowledged with every breath, every footfall. How can a place feel so expansive and suffocating at once?

  I wipe a soiled sleeve across my brow for the millionth time, trying to mop my salty sweat before it stings my half-closed eyes. Across the river, a slight movement jolts me into high alert. I stare intently at the cluster of trees but can’t make out anything unusual. Must have been an animal.

  Or maybe you’re growing delirious.

  It’s not out of the question. I can see how one might go crazy in this eternal thicket.

  Crazy.

  I run a hand along Callisto’s matted, sweaty neck. She doesn’t acknowledge my touch. Her mind appears distant; her steps drag like she’s just run clear from the Halcyon Sea. “We’re all tired, girl. You can do this. I need you to do this.”

  It’s impossible to know how far we’ve walked through this Jungle, what with the curves of the river, the painfully slow going, and the lack of any visible landmarks. One kilometer? Three? Five?

  As the light dims, the temperature cooling ever so slightly, I begin to fear following the river was a mistake. What if it isn’t flowing from El Fuego? What if it’s leading us away from the volcano?

  The gentle incline we’ve been following turns suddenly steep. We’re forced to parallel the river at a distance to bypass the slick, rocky banks. But even though our current path is relatively dry, the combination of rocks, loose dirt, and elevation gain makes summiting nearly impossible.

  As we climb, Neechi stumbles twice; each time I have flashbacks of the Arena stablehand’s arm snapping like a twig.

  “Be careful,” I warn him, like that will make a difference. But I can’t help but worry. What would we do if he broke a bone or had a heart attack out here? There would be no way to save him.

  Jonalyn’s fatigue is obvious too, but her strength astounds me more. She had barely recovered from the attack, then had a baby, and now marches through the Jungle a week later, with an extra four kilos bundled to her chest. Her body’s toughness isn’t all I find remarkable, though; her fierce determination inspires me. She could have let me bring the baby to Torvus myself. She had every reason to return to her finca—to rest, oversee the rebuilding, regather the Gentles who were temporarily moved after the raid. She chose this instead.

  I marvel as she climbs, takes one exhausted step after another, balancing a baby and leading a reluctant mare. The brio of that woman—my sister, a Materno—rivals that of any Alexia. Certainly mine.

  How have I never seen it?

  “We’re almost to the top,” I encourage.

  She nods, understandably breathless. Then she steadies herself, pl
acing a hand against the baby’s back, and takes another calculated step, tugging at the mare to do likewise. The transfer of her weight causes a boulder to give way, sending dislodged rocks and debris tumbling down the hillside. She slips backward and lands hard, twisting instinctively to protect her child from the impact. Five meters below, Bri jumps over the largest rock before it takes out her legs, but lands on loose dirt and slides several meters down a steep incline into a tangle of ferns. In the chaos, her horse spooks and rears, hind legs prancing dangerously close to a crumbling ledge.

  I scramble toward my sister. “Jo! Are you okay?”

  Neechi starts toward Bri, but she barks, “I’m fine. Get the stupid horse!”

  Unfazed by her stiffness, he takes unbalanced steps toward the spooked Lexander, speaking softly.

  “Neechi, be careful!” I yell, trying not to imagine him getting knocked over the edge while I check Jonalyn for injuries. She winces from a scrape down her arm, but once she’s sure the baby is okay, shoos me toward the others.

  Bri’s horse rears again and paws for footing. The seasoned stablehand eases closer, calming her with his voice, eventually his touch. By the time I reach them, he has snatched the reins and is tugging her away from the ledge.

  Breathing heavy, he hands Bri the reins, then slumps to a sitting position on the ground, shaking with exhaustion.

  I crouch down beside him and hand him a water flask. “You saved that horse, Neechi. Well done.”

  Bri wipes sweat from her forehead as she appraises him. “We need to rest. We better set up camp soon.”

  I nod, reluctantly. I really thought we’d make it to the volcano today. “Let’s get to the top of this, then we’ll look for a spot.” This seems to bolster everyone’s resolve, including mine. Just a little farther . . .

  I lead Callisto over the last difficult push—sending her up first, then scrambling with my own hands and feet. When I reach the top, I prepare to collapse with exhaustion and relief, but the view keeps me on my feet.

  A dark emerald pool the width of a large paddock shimmers beneath what must be El Fuego, though we can only see a fraction of the wide, shaley base of the mountain. To my right, the pool empties into the river we’ve followed all day. From a lush outcropping far above us, the same river drops through thin air, crashing into the pool below with a roar. A gust of vagrant mist blows cool and damp against my face, and I breathe in the fresh scent of falling water.

  We made it.

  “We made it!” I yell down to the others. Giddiness reenergizes my muscles as I help them to the top.

  “That’s more like it,” Bri says, taking in the view.

  She follows a staggering Neechi to the water’s edge and splashes her face clean while he fills a flask. She throws a cupped handful of water at his hovering face. He sputters in surprise.

  “Thanks for your help back there,” she says. His bewilderment melts into a tentative smile.

  “Thank you, Dom—” He seems unsure whether to use her surname.

  “Bri’s fine.”

  “Thank you, Dom Bri.”

  There’s just a hint of pride in Neechi’s tone, kindness in hers. Then the moment of humanity vanishes like the waterfall spray, and she walks away. I wonder if she has ever before thanked a Gentle.

  Jonalyn sits next to me, unwrapping the littlest traveler. “That water must be deep in the center; look how dark it is.”

  She’s right. The dancing blue-green edges of the pool slope to near blackness in the middle and under the waterfall.

  Deep water . . . water’s deep. That’s it! Where the fire don’t burn, and the dark water’s deep. Both clues point to the moist ground underfoot.

  “We found it.”

  “Found the Brutes?” Jonalyn asks, lowering her voice.

  “No—not yet. But we’re on the right track.” Now that I know for sure, I explain the song to her.

  “I always wondered why no one else had heard of it,” she laughs. Then, as if catching herself, she grows somber.

  I take her hand and squeeze it gently. But with daylight quickly slipping, grief is an indulgence we can’t afford.

  We waste no time finding a place to secure the horses and set up camp, far enough from the waterfall to keep the spray from dousing a fire, close enough to the pool to take advantage of the relative treelessness of its rim.

  Two days of travel, and we’re more than halfway through our food supply. When I discussed provisions with Marsa, I didn’t account for walking all day doubling our hunger. Tonight Jonalyn mixes river water with taro flour over the fire, which we scoop with dried plantain chips. The combination would taste downright disgusting if we weren’t so famished. But we are, so we eat it with grateful stomachs. At least the tacky sweetness and mealy texture keep us from overeating our dwindling supplies.

  When Bri and I return from collecting cohune fronds for bedding, Callisto is lying down near the other horses. Neechi kneels next to her, his hand resting on her side. Her head hangs so low her nose touches the ground, legs tucked under, ears turned out and down.

  I toss the fronds at Bri, rushing to the mare’s side. “What happened?”

  He shakes his head, confused. “She was twitchin’ all over. She dropped down, then a minute later it stopped. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I push Neechi aside to crouch alongside her. Her ears turn toward me, and she raises her head in greeting.

  “But she seems alright now?”

  “I don’t know, Dom Reina. Maybe she’s tired, but something isn’t right. I’ve never known a horse to twitch like that.”

  “It was hot today. I’ve pushed her too hard. Maybe exhaustion caused it.” Even as I say the words, I cringe at my own stubbornness. I know she isn’t okay; I just can’t bring myself to face reality.

  “You have to beat this,” I whisper near her ear. “I need you.”

  Besides, there’s no way I could ever—

  I can’t even finish the thought.

  Then again, Jase didn’t say I’d have to kill her—Rohan did. Maybe Jase was hesitant because he wasn’t positive. Maybe animals can recover from the crazies.

  “Move the other horses,” I instruct Neechi. “I’ll stay with her.”

  “Yes, Dom Reina.”

  Whatever happens, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone tonight.

  I bed down on a pile of fronds, two more covering me like a papery blanket. With my head propped against Callisto, I stare out at the waterfall, faintly glowing in a nearly pitch-dark world. Its roar drowns out the nighttime Jungle songs. In the treeless void over the pool, a different sort of canopy gradually appears—single stars at first, then patches and swirls of light, more stars than should be possible. Unimaginable beauty. But I can hardly enjoy it.

  “You can’t leave me, girl,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to be brave without you.”

  I remember the day Old Solomon said I could have the pinto filly. She was feisty, had little regard for training, and was a mutt besides. I knew we’d be perfect for each other. The first time I rode her bareback, directing her with only a neck rope, she sprinted headlong down the hillside, and I tumbled into a coffee bush. Earning her trust took time, but we had lots of that. The reward was a priceless bond. Not to mention . . .

  “Just think of all the money you saved Mother in saddles and bridles,” I tease, glancing back at her.

  Callisto’s chin rests in front of her, ears alert, dark eye aglow with the nearby fire, where the others already sleep soundly. In its reflective dome, I see a stranger.

  A girl who killed her best friend. Who couldn’t save her mother. Who released a dangerous Brute. Who, perhaps worst of all, is fiercely afraid.

  Maybe I’ve needed my horse for courage because I can’t face who I am. Who I’ve become.

  I rest against her side, feel her rhythmic breathing under my head. Above, I search for familiar, grounding constellations. Siyah—named for our first Alexia leader—barely visible over the treetops
ringing the eastern edge of the pool, bow aimed at the earth, sword at her side. The rooster crows at her heels. Saving the best for last, I trace the starry signposts westward.

  “There she is, the Great Mare,” I tell Callisto, craning my neck for a better view of the otherworldly horse. Tonight she gallops upside down across the sky, southward, deeper into the Jungle, like a brave Alexia steed. A meteor passes over her tail, trailing stardust. Callisto twitches. “I know, she’s my favorite too.”

  With a hint of familiarity overhead, and the comfort of Callisto beneath, my eyes begin to droop. But I can’t sleep yet. When morning comes, where to? I found El Fuego. Deep water. Now what?

  You follow the mare, and I’ll follow a stream . . .

  I laugh out loud at the simplicity, the beauty, the rightness of it.

  The Great Mare seems to stretch her muzzle another light-year southward, tail flying behind, confirming Mother’s riddle. I don’t know about the stream, but at least I have a general direction for tomorrow’s slog through the Jungle. And that’s enough to sleep on tonight.

  I rest my cheek against Callisto’s soft hair, feel her ribs rise and fall, and wish she were immortal like the celestial equine overhead.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I KNOW THE TRUTH EVEN BEFORE I open my eyes to a rose-glazed sky or feel her cold stiffness under me.

  Somehow, as I slept, I knew she wouldn’t wake. In my dreams, I screamed when I lost her. I caved in on myself, screamed some more. My tears filled the pool and poured down the river. My body nearly disintegrated with grief.

  But here, now, in the actual discovery of loss, a hollowness begins in my chest and creeps outward to each limb, gutting me of emotion. I don’t even move.

  Maybe I have nothing left in me to release.

  Or perhaps the girl I’ve become simply can’t handle another loss—can’t face the reality of another being I love falling victim to my poor choices.

  If you hadn’t taken her to the Jungle . . .

  I roll away suddenly, bristling at the internal accusation. “I’m so sorry, Callisto. I’m so, so sorry.”