More crashes echoed through the forest behind them.
“They’re coming from the other direction!” Bray yelled.
“And more from upstream!” Kirby pointed.
The forest seemed to have come alive as more twisted men splashed through the water, arriving from further up the banks or through the thick forest, converging on the fire and what promised to be a warm meal. Bray was surprised when Flora leapt at one of the demons that had entered the firelight, stabbing it in the face and pulling her crude sword loose. He didn’t have time to voice his surprise. There were too many, and more coming.
A voice screamed, “Stop!”
William.
“Go away! Back to the forest!”
Bray spun to find William stabbing his sword at the demons, his face a mask of rage. The demons hesitated.
“I said leave!” William said, louder, gritting his teeth as he took a menacing step forward, and the demons took a step back. “I told you to go!”
Flora stared at William in awe. The demons hesitated another second before turning and darting into the forest. Bray listened as their bare feet crashed away, their snarls faded, and the forest grew quiet except for the crackling noise of the campfire.
After a long pause, Flora asked, “How did you do that?”
William stared at her, his shoulders heaving. He didn’t say anything. His face was flushed in the firelight.
Bray shrugged. “He does that sometimes.”
Chapter 14: Bray
“I’ve never seen anything like what William did,” said Flora, unable to stop from talking about the attack, even after it was done. “You forced them away with your words.”
“They were going to hurt us,” William said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Of course. But they’ve never listened to my people before.” Flora thought on it a moment. “Then again, I don’t think my people have ever tried to talk to them. We were always so busy defending ourselves.”
“I wouldn’t advise talking to them,” Bray muttered.
“So you’re saying it’s something only William can do?” Flora creased her forehead as she looked between Bray and William. “Can you teach me?”
William opened his mouth to answer, but Bray interrupted. “He’s not sure how he did it. And we certainly can’t count on it. For all we know, it’s luck.”
Bray spat on the ground, then looked away to conclude the discussion.
“I’m sorry if I’m asking too many questions,” Flora said, sensing the mood. “You stopped what would’ve been a bloodier battle, William. Whatever you did, thank you.”
“Let’s drag these bodies out of here, before the smell makes us nauseous,” Bray said.
They pulled the dead bodies away from the fire, piling them up further down the stream bank. They watched the forest, half-expecting a second attack, but the woods stayed quiet.
“The gunshots will draw more,” Kirby said.
Bray had seen enough of William’s power over the demons to know that they wouldn’t be back. “We’ll keep a close watch.” He hovered on the edges of the fire, cautiously watching the forest. Clamping a hand over his shoulder, which was burning after the altercation, he said to William, “That salve would feel good about now, if you still plan on heating more up. You probably lost whatever you’d heated, when you swung your sword.”
“I did,” said William, looking at his empty blade.
Flora watched the trees for another moment before settling next to William and taking out her jar again. Bray noticed she was still staring at William.
William took some more salve and heated it up over the fire. Bray watched his face, looking for a sign that he was different, changed. Every encounter with the demons made Bray wonder if he’d wake up the next morning to find William gone. William’s condition was always evolving, or at least it seemed that way. Bray wasn’t certain how long he’d be able to protect William, but he still meant to keep the promise he’d made to the boy’s mother.
After William and Flora finished with the salve, they held out the sword so Bray could retrieve some of the thick, clear sludge. He grunted as he took some of it in his fingers, careful not to touch the hot metal underneath.
“If you put that right over the wound, it should help,” Flora said.
Bray couldn’t hide his skeptical look as he slathered it over his skin, surprised when a cooling sensation took some of the pain away. Noticing Flora watching, he admitted, “It feels better than it looks. I’ll give you that.”
Chapter 15: Kirby
The moon hung behind the trees, so that Kirby could only see the portion of the forest that was within the light of the fire. She held her rifle on her lap as she leaned against the tree. She had volunteered for first watch. She knew she wouldn’t sleep much anyway. Most of her nights were spent adjusting so the warts on her spine wouldn’t ache when they dug into the ground, or straightening her knees and elbows when the lumps beneath her skin grew too uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if the pain of the warts was getting worse, or her patience for the spore-disease was waning.
Seventeen years of the infection had ground down her hopes that she would ever sleep like she used to.
At night, her people had often wandered by the bay in New Hope, hoping to take their minds off the pain. Any time she’d been unable to sleep, Kirby had been able to find someone outside with whom to share her troubles. She still remembered some of the talks she’d had with her people as they’d wandered underneath the stars of a new sky, a sky that she could still look up and see, even though the rest of them were gone.
She did have William, though.
Kirby couldn’t see much of William underneath his blankets, but it seemed like he was sleeping soundly near the fire. Over time, his warts would become as painful as hers, disturbing him at night, as they already were doing during the morning and parts of the day.
His future was as bleak as hers.
It was depressing. And she still couldn’t believe Bray hadn’t exaggerated with his tales about William talking to mutants. That power was at once awe-inspiring and frightening. Now she understood Bray’s reasoning for wanting to keep him away from the creatures. Even without knowing all the details, she could tell William had been through a lot.
A cough made her sit up straight.
Kirby looked around, certain that a demon had made an unusual sound, or that the strange, marked men were sneaking up on them. But the noise was coming from William’s blankets. She crept over and knelt next to him as he coughed again.
“Are you all right, William?” she whispered.
He coughed again, but didn’t answer.
Carefully, she pulled down his blanket so she could see his face and check on him. He was still asleep. She could hear his slow, heavy breathing. Not wanting to ruin his night’s rest, she covered him back in his blankets and returned to her spot by the fire, vowing to keep watch over him.
When Bray awoke, she told him what she’d heard, and he promised to keep an eye on William. She did her best to get some sleep.
**
After a fitful night, in which Kirby only dozed, she opened her eyes and resigned to waking. It was morning, and the sun crept over the eastern horizon, illuminating the stone fireplace, the stream, and their footprints, as well as the drag marks from where they’d pulled away the demons. William was still sleeping underneath his blankets, and so was Flora. Bray was sitting against a nearby tree, looking as if he had been waiting for her.
“Did you hear any more coughing from William?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “He seemed fine to me. I’m going to catch breakfast.”
Kirby nodded and watched Bray disappear through the trees. The fire had burned down to mostly embers, and Bray hadn’t stoked it. He probably planned on getting an early start. She watched William, waiting for him to wake up.
Finally, he was rousing.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked.
<
br /> “Fine,” William said, wiping the grogginess from his eyes.
“I heard you coughing in the night,” she said.
“I was?” he asked, clearly not remembering. “I’m okay.”
He sat up, wrapping his blanket around him and shivering from the night’s lingering chill. Or was it something else? William winced as his body settled into a position he didn’t like, but he quickly straightened his face to mask the pain.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Kirby asked.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, but the bags under his eyes said otherwise.
Kirby placed her hand on his head, feeling for the warmth that usually accompanied a coming sickness. “You’re hot,” she said. “It feels like you have a fever.”
“I’m probably just warm from the blankets,” William said, embarrassed. “Is Bray hunting breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to help him.”
Kirby watched him get up and make his way through the trees, looking for Bray.
Chapter 16: Bray
Bray held onto the horses, letting them drink from the stream. He looked over his shoulder. William was tucking his blankets into his pack, and Flora was collecting her things. Kirby was coming toward him.
“William’s head was hot with what felt like a fever,” Kirby said. “I asked how he was feeling, but he insisted he was fine. Did he seem sick at all when he was helping you catch breakfast?”
“He seemed a little slow.” Bray shook his head. “Winter is a hell of a time to be in the wild. Fewer animals to track, less dry wood, and not enough blankets between us. Do you think it’s a winter flu?” Bray knew people got warmer when a sickness was coming, even in bitter weather.
Kirby said, “I remember a similar sickness when I was nineteen. The sickness stayed with me for several weeks. I couldn’t keep any food down, and I sweated through my clothes. I had a cough that only seemed to get worse, no matter how much I rested. We had herbs, but they didn’t work.”
“Maybe he can try some of that salve they used on me,” Bray said with a smile. “I slept great.”
“I don’t think it would work. There were other reasons behind my sickness, I think.” Kirby’s eyes wandered into the trees.
“You look like you have something more to say,” Bray guessed.
Kirby said, “I got that sickness a year after I got the spore. Lots of other people with the spore got sick in the beginning years, too. I regained my health, but a lot of the others didn’t. The spore does nasty things to people. Our bodies change when we get infected. We don’t always live through those early illnesses.”
Bray blew a breath. “I don’t know much about that. We might know more, if the people in Brighton didn’t burn the infected, or if they didn’t flee into the wild to escape the pyres.”
“I’m not blaming you for the practices of your people,” Kirby said. “But if it’s the sickness I’m thinking about, we might have something to worry about with William.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him. In the meantime, we should make sure he keeps warm after the sun goes down. I can spare one of my blankets,” Bray said. “I’m used to the cold. Maybe when we get moving, he’ll feel better.”
Chapter 17: Bray
For most of the morning, they traveled up a slow incline filled with leafless trees, withered bushes, and snow that started out thin, then got deeper as they got to higher elevations. According to Flora, most of the surrounding area was filled with sloping mountains. The horses breathed heavily from the extra exertion, shaking their heads. They needed a rest.
So did William.
Through the course of the ride, William had been getting worse. He had been talking less and relaxing his grip on the reins, and every so often, he broke into an ugly cough that echoed off the mountainside.
Kirby might be right about his illness.
Eventually, the mountain leveled off into a treeless spot, where the sun had mostly melted the snow, and Bray suggested they stop. Kirby and Bray dismounted their horses, jumping down and leading them to a nearby patch of trees where they could tie them, while Flora helped William get off his steed.
“You don’t look so good, William,” Flora observed.
William bent down, working through a phlegmy cough instead of answering.
“Maybe you should sit down,” she recommended.
Bray and Kirby shared a concerned glance as William took Flora’s suggestion and sat in the snow. Bray felt his forehead. It seemed like he was burning up, and he was wheezing. After another round of coughing, he smiled, but Bray could tell he was putting on a brave face.
Kirby felt his head. “You’ve gotten warmer since this morning.”
“I didn’t notice,” William said, absently.
Bray looked around the mountainside, wondering if they might stay longer than they’d planned. “Ever since we left Brighton, we’ve been traveling with little rest. I think we’re going to need to give the horses a full day’s break. They need that every so often, otherwise they get sick or injured. We’ll need to stop regardless.”
Bray was more worried about William, but he didn’t want to frighten the boy.
“How much farther are you staying with us?” Bray asked Flora.
“I was going to depart soon,” Flora said, pointing at the top of the next mountain. “There’s a path that curves down from there that is easy to travel on foot.”
“How much longer is your journey from there?”
“I’ll be home by afternoon,” Flora answered guiltily.
They fell silent as William hacked through a heavy cough. Flora looked like she was on the verge of saying something else, but she remained quiet.
Bray looked at Flora, asking the question that had been on his mind most of the ride. “Do you think your people would let us stay until we rested up the horses?”
Flora thought on it. “I’m not sure how my people would react. They’re very cautious, as you can imagine, especially with the people from Halifax around. And we’ve had attacks from other tribes.”
“We’d be gone soon,” Bray added. “We just need a place to rest.”
Flora looked worriedly at William, who was starting to cough again. A look of sympathy crossed her face. She looked like she was working through a decision. Finally, she said, “I can’t promise they’d let you in, but that might be a better solution than continuing on in the cold.”
Bray looked around the frigid, snow-covered mountain. Even a primitive hut would be better than keeping William in the wild with a worsening sickness. “Thanks, Flora,” he said. “We appreciate your help, however it turns out.”
Chapter 18: Bray
Having decided on the new plan, they rested awhile before mounting the horses, then continued up the mountain. William seemed a little less flushed than before, or maybe it was the promise of a destination giving him hope. He coughed less and focused on guiding his horse through the plentiful trees. His inquisitive nature seemed to have returned, or maybe he was trying not to get them worried.
“Are there children where you live?” William asked Flora, his face red from coughing.
“Yes,” Flora said. “Quite a few.”
“What kind of games do they play?”
Flora smiled. “It’s been a while since I played, but we have a game where we put three sticks on the ground, with space in between.” She looked at William, as if he might be too sick to talk, but his face showed he was still interested.
“What do you do?”
“Each person jumps between each stick using three steps, without stepping on them. Every time, the sticks get farther. If you step on a stick, you’re out. The person who jumps farthest wins.”
“I think I’d like to play something like that,” William said with a smile. “What other games do you have?”
“Some of the children race goats,” Flora said with a chuckle.
“Goats?” William asked.
“Yes, the animals that gi
ve us our milk and cheese. You’ve never seen them?”
“I have, just not in a while,” William said. “Our neighbors had some where I used to live. I’ve never raced one, though.”
“You have to make sure you’re feeling better first,” Flora warned.
“He will be,” Bray told them assuredly. “He just needs some good rest.”
In the time they’d been talking, they’d reached the top of the incline. Flora pointed east, along a long, curving trail that was wide enough to fit the horses and descended gently down the slope.
“That’s the path I usually take, when I’m on foot,” she said. “It should work for the horses.”
“It seems wide enough,” Bray agreed.
He looked down the slope. It was the first glimpse he had gotten down the mountain where they hadn’t been surrounded by trees. The forest was thick below them. Several of the tree branches held on to their withered leaves, but they were high up enough that he spotted something deep in the distance, where the terrain flattened.
“Is that water?” he asked Flora.
“Yes,” Flora said with apparent pride. “That is our river.”
“Does it have a name?” he asked.
“Yes. We call it The River of the Gods.”
“The River of the Gods,” Bray repeated quietly. He watched the stretching body of water in the distance, as if something might rise out of the depths and into the sky, but it looked the same as most of the other bodies of water he’d seen. “Why do you call it that?”
“The river was left here for our people, like the buildings, or the forests,” Flora explained. “The gods left it so our people could settle nearby.”
From a distance, the river was little more than a stationary mass, but Bray knew it must be moving. He looked along the banks, but saw no sign of homes where people might live.
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