Bisecter

by Stephanie Fazio

  I give Thutmose a sharp look.

  “Er, I mean….” he trails off.

  “It will be useful against the guards at any rate,” I say. “What are those?” I point to a pile of round, richly purple pods the size of my fist.

  “Touch-me-nots, but not like any you’ve seen before.” Thutmose looks relieved for a change in subject.

  He lifts one of the pods on the edge of a blade and hurls it at the far end of the building. It pings off one of the cell doors and lands on the ground. There’s the sound of popping as the pod swells and then separates into a dozen new versions of itself.

  Each of the new pods explodes, shooting fiery-red spikes in every direction.

  Instead of the regular needles of the touch-me-nots, these needles erupt into sparks. I jump to the side as one of the needles passes near to where I’m standing. Each spike burns a hole in the ground where it lands.

  A commotion at the door draws my attention away from helping to stamp out the small fires. Vlaz soars into the tunnel, followed by Brice and his team of scouts.

  “The Halves are assembling between the two buildings and have blocked the exit,” Brice reports. “They’re all armed.” His voice is brusque, like he’s delivering a report to a Captain rather than to me.

  “How many?” I ask trying to ignore the ache in my chest.

  Brice exchanges a look with one of the other scouts. “Must be more than a thousand, and they’re still coming.”

  A thousand of them, and….

  I scan the length of the building.

  Two-, maybe three-hundred of us.

  “Any sign of the Captain and his guards?”

  “No.”

  “Alright,” I wrack my brain for an idea that won’t end with all of us getting killed. “We’ll attack in waves. If the battle starts to go badly, a few of us can distract the Halves long enough for everyone else to escape to the mountains.”

  ✽✽✽

  The soldiers in the first wave cover themselves and their weapons in cammamoss until they’re all but invisible. Even though I’ll be leading them, I don’t take any cammamoss for myself.

  I wrap one of the purple touch-me-nots in a cloth so it won’t explode and place it in the pouch on my belt. Thutmose passes around animal hide containers filled with the cursed stammeroot brew. With any luck, it will be enough to scatter the Halves and distract the Captain’s guards.

  I still have the small knife I keep strapped to my thigh, which I unhook and put into my belt. Dayne, Ry, and Wade, who are leading the second, third, and fourth waves, are shouting orders. There isn’t enough cammamoss for them, but hopefully the cursed stammeroot, touch-me-nots, and notty nellies will be enough to protect them. But against thousands of Halves, our preparations seem like child’s play.

  After a few hasty instructions, we’re ready. I wonder whether I’m supposed to give some kind of speech to this haggard band of prisoners-turned-soldiers. They don’t need my words of encouragement, though. Men and women stomp their feet and thud their weapons against the ground. As Dayne and I ready the first wave, the tunnel erupts into a chorus of battle cries.

  The fight they have longed for has come.

  “Forward!” I call.

  The rest of the prisoners roar with approval and clink their weapons against mine as I lead the first wave, invisible under the cammamoss, through the stone doors and into the blinding sunlight.

  A cloud of dust swirls around the Halves marching toward us. I glance back at the army of freed prisoners behind me. All that is visible are the faint glimmers of a blade or corner of a cloak as the cammamoss shifts under their movement. Even their footprints are masked by the swirling dust.

  I feel a surge of hope. For the first time, I think we might have a chance.

  I keep my gaze focused on the Halves in front of me rather than staring at the troops stretched out on all sides as far as the eye can see.

  “Now!” I shout as soon as the Halves are within range.

  As we race forward, the Halves look from side to side and spin around in confusion. They seem to sense the soldiers’ presence, but not well enough to land a blow. They swing their weapons, more often striking each other than any of the humans. Dozens of the Captain’s guards are among the Halves, using their whips to try to reorganize the befuddled Halves.

  Even though I’m the only one who doesn’t wear any cammamoss, the Halves don’t attack me. I’m not sure whether it’s because of my father’s orders or something else.

  I aim the stones in my sling at the Halves’ legs to make them stumble. Wounds appear on the Halves’ legs and arms from the invisible weapons. The soldiers seem to be following my orders, using small amounts of the cursed stammeroot liquid and touch-me-not pods to scatter the Halves rather than kill them. Not knowing where is safe, some of the Halves begin to flee.

  Triumphant shouts erupt all around me. My plan is working.

  My stomach flips as a Halve’s shriek cuts through the other sounds of the battle. The ear-splitting scream is taken up by others. Around us, panic-stricken Halves are dropping their weapons and shoving each other to escape. Not even the guards’ whips can keep them in line as the air fills with the sound of their screams. A Halve stumbles and falls to the ground beside me.

  “What’s happening?” I shout as its terror-stricken black eyes meet mine.

  “Reptors,” it wheezes before it scrambles to its feet and gallops off.

  Human screams are added to those of the Halves.

  I weave through the stampeding Halves and jump onto a boulder to see what’s happening. A monstrous creature is cutting a wide path through the Halves. A terrible coldness fills every crevice of my being.

  From slimy snout to barbed tail, the reptor is longer than three men laying foot-to-head. It looks like some kind of a giant lizard…that can swallow men whole. Its thick hide is the color of mud and is covered in spikes. The reptor moves on six legs that are so short it almost seems to slither across the ground like a swollen serpent. Still, it moves fast enough to outpace the Halves.

  The creature lets out a tremendous roar that shakes the ground. The sound raises the hair on my arms and sends a chill down my spine.

  The reptor’s open mouth displays teeth as long and sharp as daggers. When it closes its jaw, a man who had been in its path disappears.

  There is another roar, and then another. A line of reptors appears from a large hole in the ground at the far end of the courtyard. Their ugly bodies squeeze through the open tunnel one after the other. Their slitted, yellow eyes shine with an unnatural brightness.

  The creatures cut a path toward the main part of the battle. Humans and Halves disappear into their gaping maws.

  I jump down from the boulder, yelling out orders to anyone who will listen. Some of the Halves spare me the briefest of glances as they continue their stampede off the battlefield. Their attention gives me an idea.

  CHAPTER 49

  Help us!” I yell to the retreating Halves. I gesture at the human soldiers scrambling to reform their lines.

  Some of them seem to understand me. They clutch their clubs and blades as they fall into line alongside the invisible army. I can guess at the expressions on the soldiers’ faces beneath their cammamoss as the Halves join our ranks.

  The wretched stench of the reptors fills the air.

  I unwrap the touch-me-not, place it in the pouch of my sling, and release my weapon. The small, purple pod hits a reptor’s horned back and bounces off. For a moment, nothing happens. And then there’s a fiery explosion.

  The reptors snarl, opening their mouths wide to display their hideous fangs. They lash their spiked tails as the embers burrow into their thick hides. While the reptors thrash about, I lead the humans and Halves forward.

  A group of Halves swarms around one of the reptors. The Halves are faster than their bulk would suggest, and they take turns darting between the reptor’s claws to strike blows.

  I only have a moment to feel gratitude
before I’m surrounded by the reptors.

  I strike out at them with my sling and my fist. The first punch leaves my hand bloody and raw. Screams fill the air. A reptor rears up on its back legs and slices the front of my cloak with a dagger-sharp claw. I double over as blood spills from the slice across my stomach.

  When the reptor opens its mouth to swallow me, I clench my fist and punch its snout with all of my strength. The creature lets out a roar as it flips over from the force of my blow. The wound in my stomach tears wider.

  A fall now would put me right in the reptors’ waiting jaws. I fight to stay conscious.

  Before it can attack again, Dayne, Wade, and Ry are beside me. They throw themselves at the reptor.

  I press a hand over my stomach and try not to think about the warm wetness coating my fingers.

  The reptor roars, and I try not to retch from the reek of its hot breath. The creature thrashes its horned tail.

  “Watch out!”

  Dayne pushes Ry out of the way, catching the force of the blow himself. He flies through the air like a ragdoll and lands a few paces away. Dayne stumbles to his feet, looking dazed but alive.

  Regaining my focus, I leap toward the reptor.

  “Get out of the way,” I yell to the others.

  “Hemera, what are you—”

  Blinking away the darkness, I grab one of the reptor’s legs and pull.

  The leg, as thick as a script tree’s trunk, detaches from the reptor’s body. Foul-smelling blood sprays over me, leaving a fierce stinging where it touches my bare skin. The reptor rears up on its other five legs, roaring. I duck under its snapping jaws and drive my blade into its throat.

  Blood sprays from its neck as the reptor hurtles backward on its remaining legs. It moves almost as fast as it had with all six.

  I run a hand over my stomach as I watch the reptor’s retreat. There’s no new blood flowing through my shredded cloak. The gaping wound seems to have sealed itself off.

  I try not to think about how much it took to bring down one of these creatures. I try not to think about how many more of them are wreaking havoc all over the battlefield. The screams of the prisoners…my soldiers…are impossible to ignore.

  Dead soldiers litter the ground. Some are partially covered in cammamoss, others not at all. Some of their faces are covered in blisters from the Burn. Others suffered gruesome wounds from the reptors; their mouths are still twisted in the agony of their death.

  Burn vultures circle overhead as the sun creeps back up toward high day. And still, the reptors keep coming.

  Focus, Hemera.

  “Come on!” I shout, my voice hoarse, as I try to rally the flagging soldiers.

  A shadow passes overhead. My heart leaps as Vlaz, dark against the blazing sun, descends from the sky. He dives straight for a reptor and sinks his claws into the creature’s eyes. The reptor roars in agony.

  Vlaz flies up and down, weaving between their snapping jaws and thrashing tails. He flies down to bite and scratch at their faces before rising again. The reptors scream in fury as their jaws snap shut around empty air. Cheers erupt from the soldiers.

  Blinded by their own blood streaming into their eyes, the reptors stumble around, biting and tearing at each other.

  The humans and Halves attack the reptors with renewed vigor. They work together, with the Halves reaching up to rain blows on the reptors’ snouts while the humans use any weapon they can find to slash at the creatures’ legs. I wrestle one to the ground and squeeze the life out of it with my bare hands.

  The harsh blowing of a horn cuts through our frenzied slaughter. It’s coming from the direction of the fortress’s entrance.

  “Duskers!” someone shouts.

  No, it can’t be. It isn’t possible….

  But the gray, hooded cloaks of the Duskers are unmistakable. They’re approaching the wooden gates.

  Panic ripples through us all. What are they doing here?

  “Gorgoran,” Wade yells in response to my unasked question. “They knew where we were going.”

  “They’ll kill us all!” Ry’s eyes are wild.

  My ears are full of the sound of the soldiers’ screams.

  “There are too many!” Dayne yells. “We need to retreat.”

  “The only way out is through the gates,” Brice argues.

  The Duskers’ swords flash in the sunlight as they hack at the gates’ hinges. Their crossbows fire black-feathered arrows one after another, felling Halves and humans alike through the gaps in the wooden bars. There isn’t a full army of them, just the ones that attacked when Sal was killed. Still, the Duskers block our escape from the courtyard, and the reptors are still advancing. We’re outnumbered and overpowered.

  The cammamoss has fallen off the soldiers who had it, and all of our makeshift weapons are spent. We have nothing to use against the Duskers. Many of the prisoners here wear the Solguard marking; the Duskers will torture us for information and then kill us one by one. Panic squeezes my chest.

  Soldiers are fleeing in every direction. I try to call everyone back, but it’s no use. The Halves are still with me, but they’ve sustained heavy casualties, too. We don’t have the numbers or the strength to split our forces for yet another enemy.

  Giving up on breaking through the gate, a group of Duskers fans out to the stone part of the wall nearest to where our army is huddled. Using sledgehammers, they begin to chip away at the stone.

  There is a loud crack as a Dusker manages to swing his sledgehammer through a weak spot at the wall’s base. A large break shivers up one of the foundation stones. As the rock shatters, the ones above it begins to waver. It takes a moment before the wall crumbles on itself.

  It reminds me of the cracked pillar in Subterrane Harkibel that caused the cave-in that nearly killed me. Instead of the helpless dread I normally feel at the memory, watching the Duskers fight their way through the wreckage of the wall gives me an idea.

  Turning to the others, I say, “Get everyone far away from the gates and buildings. As fast and far as you can.”

  “Where are you going?” Brice demands.

  But I’m already running.

  CHAPTER 50

  The Halves use their bodies to shield me from the Duskers as I race past.

  “Get your armies away from here if you want to live,” I yell to them.

  As I near the edge of the courtyard, I have no choice but to step over the swollen bodies of the dead to stay on my path. I look straight ahead to keep from staring into their lifeless eyes, trying not to guess whether they are Halve, or human.

  Anger wells inside me…at the Duskers…at my father. My anger burns like a life force inside me, pushing me forward, giving me strength.

  It takes longer than I expected to find what I’m searching for because of the rubble littering the ground. Entire trees have been uprooted and lay on their sides. Their brightly hued corpses somehow make the slaughter more terrible.

  I find the tunnel from which the reptors came by following the reek wafting up from the gaping hole. Between the dead Halves and reptor corpses draped over the tunnel, there is a space just large enough for me to lower myself down. My head reels from the stench of whatever dead animals the reptors last fed from.

  The tunnel is pitch black. I keep my hand on the wall to steady myself as I follow the snaking path underground. It’s easy to follow; the tunnel is wide, smoothed and hollowed out from the reptors’ bulk pressing against the dirt.

  The feeling of suffocation, my constant companion in Subterrane Harkibel, closes in around me and threatens my resolve. I take quick, short breaths of the stinking air.

  What if I’m wrong about these tunnels, and the only place they lead is to a pit filled with reptors? What if these caves aren’t connected the same way they were in the Subterrane? What if—

  The path levels off at the same time that the ceiling opens up high above me. I sag in relief. These tunnels are built like the ones in the Subterrane, supported by thick stone co
lumns every ten paces. I hold my breath, hardly daring to hope my desperate plan might work.

  If I can disrupt a few of the support pillars in this tunnel, it might set off a reaction that will collapse all of the interconnecting tunnels—just like it did in Subterrane Harkibel. The Duskers on the ground overhead would be pulled down into the cave-in, destroying both them and my father’s catacombs.

  I have no idea if I’m strong enough to bring down one of the pillars. Each one is many times my height and girth and made of solid rock. But we’re out of weapons and options. I have to try.

  Four stone pillars support the ceiling in this part of the tunnel. I walk between them, looking each one up and down, trying to find one that might already be weaker than the rest. As I might have suspected from tunnels built under my father’s supervision, though, none of the pillars display a single crack.

  So, I choose one at random.

  I take a step back and kick the column as hard as I can. Nothing happens. Taking a shallow breath of putrid air, I kick again.

  Nothing. Not even a hint of movement. The pillar is too thick.

  Sweat mixes with the furious tears that roll down my cheeks. Stupid. How could I be foolish enough to think I could bring down this fortress?

  I glare up at the ceiling, cursing the pillars and my own weakness. The Duskers are probably standing right above me. They’ll kill anyone with a Solguard mark and enslave the rest. They’ll murder Ekil and the rest of the Halves.

  I wipe away the sweat and tears streaming down my face. Bringing down these tunnels is our only chance of defeating the Dusker army. It’s the only way to save my friends. I have to do this.

  Pushing up the sleeves of my cloak, I make a fist. I punch the column as hard as I can. My scream reverberates through the tunnel as the bones in my knuckles rattle. The smallest hint of a shock wave ripples up the column.

  Forcing my bloody, trembling hand into a fist, I punch the column again. And again. When that hand can no longer make a fist, I use my other. I don’t think about the agony shooting up my arms. I think about Dayne locked in the catacombs, about Brice and the other prisoners in their cells. I think about my mother.