I give his thin hand a squeeze and swallow my own bitterness and regret.
“Hemera,” Wokee is wide-eyed with panic. “There’s something else in here.”
“Where?” I squint, willing my eyes to see through the darkness.
Wokee’s small finger points to a black tunnel at the other end of the cave.
A growl, so faint I can barely make it out, reverberates along the tunnel. The hyenair’s mate? My palms begin to sweat.
“Get out your knife and stay with Dayne.”
I take my dagger out of my belt with my right hand and wind my sling in my left.
I pass through two open chambers before the noise comes again. This time, it’s closer. Too close.
I look down. Two wide, yellow eyes stare up at me from a tiny body that is a sliver of a shadow in the darkness.
I bend down to get a closer look, holding my dagger out in front of me. The animal lets out a squeaky howl. It’s no bigger than the palm of my hand, with ears far too big for its scrawny body. One of its ears stands straight up while the other flops across a yellow eye. Its fangs hang down from its upper lip in a miniature replica of the giant Dayne killed. But even its teeth are too small to seem threatening. On its back are two nubby wings.
The creature licks my hand with its sandpapery tongue. When I tickle its neck with a finger, the cub nuzzles against my hand. Its fur is long and soft, and sticks up in every direction. It fits in both of my palms when I scoop it off the ground and carry it back to the cave.
Wokee has managed to light a candle, which he holds in trembling hands. The shadows stretching across the ground make the dead hyenair look even more fearsome.
The tiny cub squirms out of my arms and bounds over to the body of the dead hyenair. It sits with its hind legs splayed, looking from me to the dead beast. It curls itself into a tight ball and whimpers. My chest aches with sympathy.
“What’s that?” Wokee asks fearfully.
“It’s the hyenair’s baby.”
The cub wedges itself between its mother’s enormous, lifeless paws.
I know how you feel, I want to tell it. I bend down and wrap the cub in my cloak.
“W-what are you doing?” Wokee hugs the wall as he edges closer.
“It’ll die if we just leave it here.”
The cub wriggles free from the folds of my cloak and rolls onto the ground. Wokee leaps to his feet, grabs the cub by the scruff of its neck, and draws his knife. The creature’s tiny wings beat the air ineffectually.
“Wokee, no!” I gasp.
“It’s a hyenair,” his voice is edged with hysteria. “It killed my brother!”
“But we just killed its mother.”
Dayne awakens, muttering to himself as he explores the knot at the base of his skull. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask filled with something that makes him shudder and cough. He drains the flask and lets it fall to the ground.
“Quit your arguing,” he growls. “Do you want every Halve in a hundred miles to hear you?”
I’m so relieved Dayne is awake I want to hug him again. It’s only the scowl on his face that makes me think better of it.
“It’ll grow up and kill us in our sleep,” Wokee persists.
“I’ll train it,” I promise, cradling the cub in the safety of my arms.
I offer the cub a handful of water from my waterskin, which it laps. It relaxes against my hand as I stroke the soft feathers of its tiny wings.
Wokee, who is still glaring at the cub, moves around to the other side of the cave and sits on the ground with a huff.
“Any chance you can get this carcass out of here?” Dayne turns on me. “I’d turn it into a stew, but I’m not quite up to it.”
Draping my cloak over the cub so it won’t be able to see, I grab the dead animal’s paws and drag it down the tunnel.
When I come back carrying Dayne’s axe, Wokee is glaring at the quivering lump under my cloak.
“Better rest now,” Dayne says as he slumps against the wall. “We’ll need to be off as soon as it’s low day.”
CHAPTER 16
I wake to the sight of the cub, still curled nose-to-tail beside me, with one ear flopped over his face. The cub blinks his round, yellow eyes and flutters his tiny wings. He stands on wobbling legs, takes a step forward, and then falls back on his rear end. He opens his mouth, exposing his miniature fangs, and lets out a high-pitched squeak. I give him a strip of dried boar’s meat, which he remains occupied gnawing until we break camp.
“He needs a name,” Wokee announces as he helps shove the last of our belongings into my pack.
“I thought you didn’t want to keep him,” I tease.
“He’s too small to hurt anyone,” he replies, like it should be obvious to me. “Maybe if he stays with us, he won’t want to kill anyone when he grows up.”
“Why don’t you come up with something to call him?” I suggest.
Wokee squats down to look at the cub. “Wodell and I used to pretend to be monsters. Grandmama made us a costume to go with our favorite monster, and we’d hide under it to scare the bandits that came sometimes. We called it Vlaz.” He gives the cub an appraising stare. “I think that’d be a good name for him.”
The cub flutters his wings as if in agreement.
“Vlaz it is, then,” I smile.
When we step out into the sunlight, I pull out the map. We bend over it, and my eyes flick to the X marking Tanguro.
Dayne echoes my own thoughts when he says, “Lot of ground to cover.”
Vlaz stays close beside me as we walk, following the strip of dried meat tied to the corner of my belt.
“We’re going to have to go back onto the Road to cross the river.” Dayne unstraps his axe. “You both wait here while I scout ahead.”
“I’ll go—”
“Stay with the boy.” Dayne’s voice is commanding. “And keep the fur ball quiet.”
Reluctantly, I let Wokee pull me behind a boulder. When I look forward, Dayne has already disappeared into the hazy sunlight.
Neither Wokee nor I speak. I squint straight ahead, waiting to see the outline of Dayne returning to us.
The first sound to interrupt the silence is a squeaky growl from Vlaz. The fur on the top of his back stands on end. Both of his long ears are pricked forward, and his small wings flutter. I turn back to follow the direction of Vlaz’s gaze.
I hear them before I see them. And then I see the smoke from their fire, no more than fifty paces away.
“Duskers,” Wokee breathes.
“Can’t be. We’re nowhere near Malarusk.”
“New recruits making their pilgrimage to Darkness Peak,” Wokee whispers. “At least, that’s what Grandpapa always said.” He flicks his glance at the imposing mountain in the distance. Darkness Peak rises straight ahead, formidable as the Duskers themselves. The ash gray peak stands alone amid the endless red-brown scraggy mountains cutting across the landscape. It’s the place where the Dusker Supreme is said to be able to commune with the Dark God.
A nervous tingle raises the hair on the back of my neck.
If they discover us here, will they kill us on the spot, or drag us back to the Malarusk dungeons? I wrap my cloak tighter around me as a chill spreads through my body.
My pack squirms. Before I can react, Vlaz sails through the air. His tiny fangs are bared. His nubbed wings beat furiously, but don’t keep him airborne after his initial leap. He disappears beyond the boulder.
“Vlaz,” I hiss. But the cub is long gone.
There is shouting and the unmistakable click of crossbows being loaded. I peek around the boulder and stifle a scream. Two pairs of gray boots are headed straight toward us.
I draw my dagger. “Wait here,” I tell Wokee.
“But Hemera—”
“Wait here!”
I know the exact moment the Dusker sees me. His eyes are shadowed by his hood, but he stops and draws his crossbow. The black-tipped arrow is pointed straight at me.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
“What the? Argh!” The Dusker’s crossbow drops to the ground as he twists around in circles, trying to kick Vlaz off of his leg. When that doesn’t work, the man pulls a long, curved dagger from his belt. Without thinking, I run forward. The man doesn’t know whether to stab me or Vlaz, and I take advantage of his indecision.
I thrust my knife into the Dusker to the hilt. I gag as my blade cuts through living flesh.
Before the Dusker even hits the ground, and before I come to my senses, I load my sling and release a glass-sharp piece of rock. The second Dusker falls.
I twist around, dagger and sling ready for the next attacker, but no one comes. It’s quiet.
My legs tremble as the Duskers’ warm, sticky blood congeals on my gloves. I turn and vomit into a bush.
These are not Halves, but men. And I killed them. With barely a thought or any effort. Everything the Dwellers ever said or thought about me, about how dangerous I am, has just become true.
The last things the dead men ever saw were my black eyes.
“You okay?”
Hearing someone else speak makes me jump out of my own skin.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. They were just there, and then, and then—” I’m babbling.
“Don’t say sorry,” Wokee commands. “Those Duskers deserve all you gave them and more.”
The cold hatred in Wokee’s words should shock me, but I feel numb.
I want to look away but can’t. Seeing these leaders of all Dwellers dead by my hands makes me think of my father. If he knew what I’ve done, he would—
“What happened?” Dayne, axe in hand, strides up to us. His eyes shift from me, to Wokee, to the bodies splayed out at my feet.
My stomach lurches into my throat. I trip over myself trying to grasp my fallen knife and land in a trembling heap on the ground.
Wokee tells Dayne what happened, while I stay where I’ve fallen, just staring at the Duskers. One man’s hood has come loose, revealing a mangled face. It looks like every bone was shattered on multiple occasions, leaving his face scar-ridden and contorted. Even in death, blisters from the Burn are surfacing on his exposed skin.
Wokee interrupts his own story to ask, “Why does his face look like that?”
There is a long pause. Finally, Dayne says, “Sometimes, the Duskers make deals with their prisoners; if they agree to join the Duskers and spread their laws, their crimes will be forgiven. They do this,” Dayne nods at the man’s distorted face, “to the prisoners who accept the deal…to test whether they’re strong enough to deserve what comes with being a Dusker.”
I reach out to a tree to steady myself. “How do you know that?”
“They tried to recruit me once,” Dayne replies.
His mouth is set in a straight line and I know better than to ask any more questions.
“Well anyway, you made short work of these ones, Hemera. Well done.” Dayne bends down to regard Vlaz, who is busy shredding my bootlace with a single claw. “And you just earned yourself a permanent spot in our company, as far as I’m concerned.”
Vlaz lets out a self-important roar, which is more of a squeak.
“Yeah, good job,” Wokee adds. It’s unclear whether he is talking to me or Vlaz.
I just stare at my companions. It’s unheard of to kill a Dusker, let alone two of them. I’ve never even heard of someone trying to attack the Duskers. At least not since the rebels disbanded generations ago. And here these two are, praising me for something that would earn us all a short, miserable life in the Malarusk dungeons. The Duskers protect the Dwellers, and it’s our duty to honor them. And yet….
I think of my father, surrounded by Halves with no one to help him. Where were the Duskers when he needed them?
Dayne looks down at his shadow. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before any more come.”
✽✽✽
“My father will never let us be together.”
The smile fades from Brice’s face. When he lowers his head to brush his lips against my neck, I forget whatever I was planning to say.
I smooth a strand of hair off his face. His green eyes take my breath away.
“We need to stop seeing each other,” I say in a rush before I lose my nerve. “If he finds out about us….”
Instead of pulling away from me like I expect, Brice smiles and leans closer. “Hemera.”
My name rumbles through his chest and sends a small shiver through me.
“Nothing could make me stay away from you.” He wraps his arms around me.
Brice…the loyal scout...defying his Captain. For me. Breaking all of the rules for me. It makes me feel wanted, loved, in a way I haven’t felt since my mother died.
I nestle against his shoulder, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. “I just wish we could stay like this forever.”
Brice cups my cheek in his hand, leaning over me until our eyes are level. “Whatever else happens, know this.” The raw emotion in his eyes ignites a fire inside me. “I love you, Hemera Harkibel.”
When his lips touch mine, I am no longer the Captain’s daughter. I am not the Bisecter. It’s just us, tangled up in each other until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. His kiss holds the promise of forever.
✽✽✽
I grasp for the feeling of Brice’s steady arms around me as the memory fades. My mind is so filled with thoughts of Brice that when Dayne stops walking, I almost knock into him.
We’ve been wading through tall reeds for hours, so it’s impossible to see what’s ahead. Dayne must have heard something because he’s clutching the handle of his axe until his knuckles turn white. I loosen my sling and grasp a small stone from my pouch, even though I see no sign of movement. Wokee wraps Vlaz closer in his cloak in case the cub decides to let out one of his high-pitched growls.
When two birds soar out of a nearby tree and shatter the silence with their cries, we all jump. Dayne relaxes his grip on the axe. “Must have been it,” he mutters.
We take one short stop before lowest day. All of us are eager to put the Duskers far behind us. All that keeps me from dwelling on their scarred faces and bloodied cloaks is the thought of reaching Tanguro.
Dayne adjusts the sleeve of his cloak, and for a moment, I can see his tattoo. The black curls of the sun’s rays dance along the back of his hand as he extends his fingers.
Something I heard once, a whispered conversation about Soldiers of the Light, comes back to me now. The tattoo…Dayne’s hatred for the Duskers….
“Are you one of the rebels?” The question is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
I know the question is ridiculous; the rebels are nothing more than a memory of something that died years ago. No one challenges the Duskers anymore.
But Dayne doesn’t laugh or scoff as I would have expected. His eyes flash before his face becomes a mask again. He closes his right hand into a fist and thrusts it back into the belled sleeve of his cloak, hiding the sun symbol. “It’s from a long time ago. Means nothing now.”
“Ouch!”
Vlaz’s tiny fangs have sunk into Wokee’s forearm. Before he can grasp him, the cub is out of his arms and running.
“I’ll get him,” I call, already sprinting after the cub.
I push through the tall reeds, calling for Vlaz. The unpleasant sensation I’m being watched takes hold of me. It has gone very quiet. I stop to listen.
Something cold and metal presses against the back of my neck.
“Don’t move an inch, or I’ll slice your head off,” a deep, male voice commands.
CHAPTER 17
My stomach lurches, but I stay still. Duskers. They must have followed us. They know what I did. My blood runs cold.
“Step forward!” the voice commands.
At the same time, the man’s hand shoves me from behind. The blade is heating up against my neck.
“There’s others!” a different, female voice calls.
“How many?” my captor growls.
I swallow, feeling the blade press against my neck.
“We got one,” the distant voice calls.
I turn at the sound of movement through the reeds. Wokee appears first. His knees are shaking so much he can barely stand. There are two large men who hold their swords against either side of Wokee’s neck. A woman with the reddest hair I have ever seen sticking out from her hood follows Wokee’s movements with an arrow nocked in her bow.
These people can’t be Dwellers, nor do they look like the filthy bandits who tried to attack Dayne and me. At least they aren’t wearing the gray cloaks of the Duskers.
“Hurt her and you’re dead!”
The blade twitches against my neck. I turn to see Dayne holding his axe to the man’s throat. Wokee whimpers as the two men beside him dig their swords into the soft areas beneath either side of his jaw.
“Step away from her, and tell those men to lower their swords,” Dayne commands in a clear, threatening voice.
I hold my breath.
Dayne pushes the edge of his axe forward, forcing the man to take a step. “Do it now!”
There is a brief hesitation, and then the man says, “Do what he says.”
As soon as the other men step back, Dayne drops his axe and raises his hands.
Before I can ask what he’s doing, Dayne says, “We surrender.”
Just like that, without even a scuffle.
“No, we don’t—” I begin, but Dayne cuts me off.
“Ignore the girl. We’ll come without a fight.”
It is only the look on Dayne’s face that keeps me from saying anything else.
The man giving the orders peers at each of us in turn. “If anyone so much as thinks about trying to escape, you all die.”
The other men have Wokee’s arms locked behind his back as they push him forward. My captor keeps his sword in one hand and his knife in the other. The archer with red hair moves ahead, scouting the reeds on silent feet. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming at Dayne…from demanding to know why he gave up so easily. We could have fought them, run away, done something….
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