“They are slaughtering our people.” Deacon’s face grew hard as he fought back some anger. He had known this was coming. He had expected it. “Our time has run out. They will be coming here soon.”
“I suspect the same.” Bartholomew’s face was grave.
“Send some scouts to Halifax,” Deacon said. “Tell them to get me more news as soon as possible.”
Chapter 35: Bray
Bray kept in line behind the Halifax men as they hiked through the forest at night, their torches illuminating their shadows and the silhouettes of their guns. The moon was nearly full, but a canopy of thick, jutting branches above dimmed some of the light. A few bats flew overhead, flapping their wings, causing a few false startles. Bray walked next to Samron, behind two other soldiers who took the lead, crunching through the snow, carrying their guns. Flora walked in the rear with a soldier on either side. A single man brought up the rear.
Bray’s legs were past the point of exhaustion. His head was cloudy from lost blood. He was used to hard travel, and he had no complaints about it, but he hadn’t counted on marching through the night after a grueling day. That was the reason they’d make the settlement by morning. It made sense now.
He wobbled.
“Keep going,” Samron said, helping him upright in a gesture of kindness Bray hoped was predictive. “Halifax is close.”
Bray could only hope these people would help, and not kill him. He had no way to outrun their Tech Magic. He was as much a prisoner as Flora, even though he wasn’t being dragged, or beaten. He was at their mercy. Rustling in the forest made him tense. Several fallen trees cloaked what might be restless animals, or something else. The Halifax soldiers swung their guns in the direction of the downed trees, emboldened by their new weapons. He knew how quick a horde of demons could descend on an army, guns or not.
The men spoke in strange, excited tongues as they peered into the forest, walking faster. The torches wavered and the wind blew, carrying a familiar scent to Bray’s nostrils. Demons. More rustling echoed around them.
One of the men drew a sword.
Bray clenched his fists. He was defenseless. The man with the sword swiveled to confront some noise coming from the trees.
A demon yowled.
A twisted man tore from the shadows, flailing its arms as it tried grabbing the man with the sword, but he sliced its neck with his blade, and it collapsed. He held onto his gun, obviously smart enough to avoid gunfire. These men knew the wild as well as anyone else.
God weapons or not, he hoped they’d be quiet.
More hisses came from all around them. A few more soldiers drew their blades, fighting back demons who sprang from the shadows, hacking at them as soon as they got close, killing them and leaving their bodies. But each demon shriek might as well be a mating call to the others. More rustling emanated from the forest. More were coming.
Too many.
Bray bristled as the stench of the twisted men grew worse.
Three demons broke from the forest, barreling at a man who had gotten ahead of the march. They were too quick and too plentiful for one man’s blade. The soldier took a stance, aiming his gun. He fired. The resultant crack echoed off the trees, eliciting a final cry from the first demon as it collapsed into the snow and went still. It took several shots to fell the second demon. The initial shot of the weapon nicked its shoulder, causing it to slow, while the second hit its chest. The men weren’t as experienced as Kirby. The man got a lucky shot with the third demon, which he managed to fell with a wound to the face. The demon collapsed, emitting a final, dying hiss.
More cracks spat from guns as the rest of the Halifax soldiers pointed and shot their weapons, felling demons in other directions. Twisted men stumbled among the trees, screeching and wounded. The men had given up on their blades. They needed to put an end to the fight.
But they were making too much noise.
A wounded demon dragged its way out of the dark forest and into the torchlight, lunging for Bray’s leg. He booted it in the face, knocking it backward, and stomped its oversized head. Blood leaked from its crushed mouth. Samron cried out and raised his torch higher, illuminating more of the shadows and more twisted men scrambling from the forest, drawn by the noise, ready to make a play for what was assuredly larger game than scrappy winter animals.
The men used their god weapons, blasting them back and sending them to the forest floor. More gunfire. More demons toppling. Bray knocked down another demon that got too close, trampling it into the snow. Demons swung their arms and made last plays for the men, but they were cut down before they reached them.
The forest went silent as the noise of the guns finished off the last of the demons.
Silence hung over the group, as if it were a living being, waiting to pounce and choke them.
Bray’s body surged from the alertness of battle. Samron leaned over, checking on him.
“I’m all right,” Bray said quietly.
He looked behind him, assessing the other five Halifax men to see if they’d been injured, but they appeared intact, except for some cuts and scrapes on their faces. A few men cleaned their blades off in the snow.
Flora broke from the men.
She heaved thick, gasping breaths as she jumped over some fallen demons and ran into the forest. Samron shouted an order, and three men chased with bobbing torches, aiming their guns, shouting. The remaining soldiers pointed at the trees, as if her escape might signal the start of some new, fresh attack. Bray listened to Flora crash through the trees, crying out as she struck objects she couldn’t see.
The three soldiers chasing her were little more than shadows underneath the torches.
Bray heard a grunt and a cry.
One of the torches fell to the ground. The smoldering light dampened in the snow, but kept burning as the shadows of Flora and one of the soldiers struggled. The other two soldiers caught up. Flora writhed and screamed beneath a soldier’s weight. Her screams ceased as someone clamped a hand over her mouth. The other soldiers wrangled her to her feet, threatening her with indecipherable words, waving their guns as they picked up the fallen torch.
And then they were dragging her back to the line with a look of defeat on her face.
Bray looked at Samron, who nodded, and then they resumed.
Chapter 36: Kirby
Kirby awoke to gunshots. Heinrich and Ruben bolted upright, standing with their backs to the sputtering, dying fire. They drew their swords. Jonas looked from tree to tree with wild eyes. Kirby sprung up beside them. Past the fire’s glow, all she saw were fuzzy shadows, and the larger shapes of the horses, adjusting nervously.
“What was that?” Jonas asked, though his face showed he knew the answer.
Kirby pulled her pistol, waiting for something to reveal itself, or for more bullets to fly. The noises of night animals had ceased. The firelight exposed the tense faces of the others. They might as well be standing in the open, targets for whoever wanted to pick them off. These men didn’t know enough about guns, but she did. Crouching down, making her way to the other side of the wall, she beckoned to her unwanted companions.
The men followed her lead, abandoning the fire and creeping with her, gaining cover from whatever was out there.
“Where are the noises coming from?” she hissed at Jonas, looking between the dark shadows.
Jonas whispered, “East.”
Kirby watched the wavering flames of the fire and the blankets they’d left behind. She wanted to kick out the fire, but she knew better than to place herself in the way of a bullet. If whomever was out there had seen them, it was too late.
A series of gunshots rang again. A screech echoed through the distant trees that was unmistakably a mutant’s. The gunshots were farther away than she thought. Still, she was hardly relieved.
“They might see the light. We should stamp out the fire,” Kirby warned.
Heinrich and Ruben ran over, kicking over the logs and sending up a puff of smoke. Anything was
better than a blazing fire, inviting anyone—and everything—around to find and kill them.
With the fire out, they hovered next to the wall and waited. Kirby’s hope was that they hadn’t been detected, or that whomever was traveling nearby would keep going.
She kept a tight grip on her gun until a few more gunshots sounded and died. A while after the gunshots, they heard a woman’s screams.
When the last shriek had gone quiet, Heinrich risked another whisper. “We should keep the fire out.”
“Probably a good idea,” Jonas returned. “We’ll head out at first light.”
**
Kirby slept no more as they waited through the final hours of night. Occasionally, they heard an owl hooting through the rustling wind, or small animals scrambling through the underbrush. Once, they thought they heard the loud, reoccurring shriek of the woman, but it turned out be a fox sending a high-pitched mating call. The gunshots were gone. Soon, the first fingers of light shone through the trees, reaching over the embers and half-burnt logs from their fire. It was time to head out.
“We can eat breakfast later,” Heinrich said quietly.
“Probably a good idea,” Ruben returned.
The men gave a last, concerned look east before preparing their belongings. Even without the noise, the gunshots continued to haunt Kirby, like a ghostly presence she couldn’t shake. She couldn’t stop thinking of the group of slaughtered, island soldiers, scattered around The Tunnel. It could just as easily have been they who were killed.
“Do you think they saw our tracks?” Jonas asked, as he gave some drink to his horse.
“It’s possible they missed them,” Heinrich said. “It was dark.”
“Still, I don’t like how close they were. We should get away fast,” Jonas said. “Just in case they find the tracks and try to follow.”
“We might be able to outrun them on horses, but they have guns,” Heinrich muttered. “How far away can they use them?”
The group quieted as everyone turned in Kirby’s direction.
“If it is truly the men from Halifax, they might not be as proficient as someone who has been shooting a while, but they are still a danger,” Kirby said. “Some of those guns can shoot great distances. Horses and the trees around us will help, but we should keep wary in case.”
“The forest might be filled with their men,” Jonas said, worry on his face.
“What do you propose?” Heinrich asked.
Jonas said, “We were going to pass east of the Halifax camp to get to the settlement. By following the same path, we are placing ourselves in danger. Perhaps we should head west instead.”
The men looked to Kirby.
“I don’t know the area well, of course,” she said. “But if we travel about the same distance as I did on my original trip, we should pass by the Halifax camp. If we can get to the coast, I can get us to the settlement. It will just take a bit longer.”
She looked around at the men, watching them nod their heads. She didn’t trust them, and she liked them even less, but things had changed. They were facing a danger that might kill them all.
They untied the horses, preparing to ride.
“I wonder if they’re the same men who killed our group,” Heinrich muttered as he mounted his steed, and Ruben got behind him on the saddle.
“Most likely,” Jonas said.
“I wish we could find a few of them,” Ruben said. “I would tie them behind the horses and drag them back to Deacon. He could do what he wanted with them, if there was anything left.”
“We will get our chance for revenge, if we get those guns,” Jonas said. “If we can get them working, we can even the odds. We might not have the same number of guns, but we will have more men.”
Heinrich nodded, and they rode off.
Chapter 37: William
In the time William had been in the room, the light of one day had died, and another had appeared, visible in the crack underneath the door. He was cold, and he was hungry. He could barely feel his fingers and toes. Every so often, he tried the door and pounded the walls, but it was a fruitless effort.
He was never getting out.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying on the ground when he saw a shadow in the crack of light under the doorway. He scrambled onto his haunches, his heart galloping. He watched the entrance, wondering what new horror lay on the other side. All he wanted was something to eat. He steeled himself for a fight he couldn’t win. He stood no chance against strong, fighting men with knives and swords. He was just a whelp in dirty clothing, to be beaten and killed. All he had was his hands to protect him.
The shadow moved.
William scrambled back against the far wall of the entrance, thinking he might buy himself some more time. At least he would see what he was up against before they overpowered him. A key stuck in a lock. A doorknob turned. William clenched his fists.
A blinding light robbed him of any plan he might’ve had.
Straining his eyes through the glare, William stuck a hand above his forehead as if he could will away the sunlight. A person much bigger than the guard who had taken him here was standing in the doorway, holding something.
“William?”
Berta.
William remained in place, watching as Berta’s backlit outline solidified into the person whose voice he recognized. Berta stood in the doorway, holding a tray of food and water. William looked past her, certain that this was a trap like the one into which she’d tricked him before. But he didn’t see anyone else. Behind her, the forest was little more than a blurry mess of shapes.
“It’s okay, William,” Berta said. “No one is going to hurt you.”
He didn’t believe a word of it, but the fear of punishment made him whisper, “Okay.”
He could barely talk. He’d screamed himself hoarse a long while ago.
She stepped inside, saying something to a guard that was waiting out of view.
William swallowed as she brought the tray inside and closed the door behind her to a crack. Part of him wondered if he’d missed one of two chances to escape. But he knew the vigilant guard or guards, whomever was outside, would strike him down before he got that far.
Berta padded toward him with the tray. William recoiled as if she were a snake, come to bite him.
“You’re frightened, William,” she said, setting the tray in front of him. “I understand.”
William said nothing. Of course he was fearful. But he wouldn’t admit that to the woman who had trapped him, allowed him to be taken, and said nothing, robbing him of a warm room and Kirby.
“I brought you some food, and some more tea.”
William looked down at the food, wondering if it was some poison to send him back into whatever sickness he was recovering from. Or maybe it would kill him.
“It’ll to keep your strength up,” she clarified. “I convinced the guards to let me bring it.”
“Where are Kirby and Bray?” he asked in a rasp, cutting through what were probably lies.
He studied her face as she spoke, ready for whatever fabrication she would tell him. A lie would be even worse than the truth, because it would give him pointless hope.
“Kirby is off on an expedition,” she said.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, fighting back tears that made him ashamed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. “I heard a gunshot. And I heard screams.”
“That was a soldier, William,” Berta assured him. “Not Kirby.”
“Why should I believe you?” William spat. “You tricked us.”
“I regret having to lie like that,” Berta said, looking behind her at the door, talking in a tone he didn’t believe. “I do what I have to do, the same as anyone else on this island. I do Deacon’s bidding to stay alive. That’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“And what about Bray?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Don’t know, or don’t want to tell me?”
<
br /> “Don’t know,” Berta repeated, a look of what might be sincerity in her eyes.
“He was dead the moment he left,” William guessed, unable to stop anger from bleeding through his fear.
William looked down at the tray, as if he might find some answers there, instead of the lies Berta was obviously feeding him. He couldn’t look at her lying, traitorous face anymore. Why should he believe her? He was trapped in a lightless room, separated from Bray and Kirby. He might as well be a soldier who had disobeyed a leader’s will, abandoned and held for a punishment he couldn’t guess. Soon his suffering would end. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and they’d keep him alive and cold forever.
“I know you don’t believe me,” Berta said. “Like you, I was once a stranger here. I didn’t trust anyone. It took me a while to learn whom to listen to, and what to do. I am here to help you, William. Believe me.”
William searched her face in the torchlight. He wanted to tell her to leave and never come back. He wanted to tell her he’d never believe another lie she told. But that thought made him remember being alone in the dark room, praying for a voice to talk to, or a light with which to see. He suddenly didn’t want her to leave. If she did, someone worse might come in.
“You were a stranger?” he asked, trying to keep her talking.
“I wasn’t originally from The Arches,” Berta said. “My home was somewhere else. I told Kirby part of my story, while you were sleeping, but not all of it.”
William tried his best to sound interested, hating the pleading sound in his voice. “Where was your home?”
“A village much farther South, much smaller than the population of the islands,” Berta said. “A village called Colby’s Run. Savages overran us. Most of my family was killed in the battle, except a few of my brothers, with whom I fled, along with a group of thirty others. Savages gnawed most of the people in Colby’s Run. We didn’t have enough hands to fend them off. To stay was to die. So we left our dead, and we took to the forests.”
“And came here?” William surmised.
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