Umbertouched

by Livia Blackburne

  I can’t read Walgash’s expression, but his voice softens a bit. “I’ll tell you what I know of Zivah.”

  “What?” I brace myself for the worst.

  Walgash looses his arrow. I throw myself onto the ground, my own shot going wide as Walgash’s arrow flies through the air where my head had just been. As I pick myself up, coughing, he rams into me and we go flying. There’s a burst of pain in my shoulder as I collide with a stalk of bamboo, and then I hit the ground with an impact that knocks the breath out of my lungs.

  Walgash positions his bulk squarely on top of me. “Why don’t you apologize to my face, you coward!”

  I’m too busy trying to keep him from pummeling my face into mush. Shouts sound in the surrounding forest, and I hear people crashing through the brush. I’m still pinned to the ground. Walgash is heavy.

  A black blur flies overhead, and Slicewing yanks at Walgash’s hair. As Walgash grabs at his head, I grit my teeth and surge up with all my strength, throwing my fist into his chin. He falls sideways with a grunt.

  I scramble to my feet and run as fast as I can.

  Our journey north goes quickly, thanks in part to provisions from Mehtap. It takes us a week to get to the strait, and once there, Sarsine proves every bit as skilled a boat thief as Dineas. We set out for Monyar in the late afternoon, timing it so that the light will be fading just as we reach land. We’ve had no news at all from our people, and I’m both eager and scared to learn what has happened since we left. Does the village still stand? Has Alia stayed out of the fighting? Is Dineas still alive?

  As we draw close to the Monyar shore, something doesn’t feel right. I squint through the darkness. There’s a boat on the water off the beach—smaller than a warship but bigger than a rowboat, with an enclosed cabin on the deck.

  “Do you recognize that ship?”

  Sarsine shakes her head. “It’s not a Shidadi ship.”

  And it looks like no Dara vessel I’ve ever seen.

  “Are those campfires on the beach?” asks Sarsine, her voice sharp.

  She’s right. Two or three campfires wink on the sand. I don’t know why I didn’t see them before.

  Sarsine scans cliffs on either side of the shore. “It’s the right place...” she says uncertainly.

  But now, as we row closer, we can see soldiers on the rocks—far too many, and moving far too rigidly, to be Shidadi.

  Sarsine lets out a string of curses. “Row! We’re turning around.”

  We paddle frantically, drenching ourselves with our frenzied efforts. Sluggishly, the nose of our boat turns and we pull painfully slowly back out to sea. When the Amparan soldiers once again become specks on the sand, we start to row parallel to the shore from a distance. The light is fading, though, and it’s getting hard to see. Despite our recent exertion, I start to shiver.

  “There!” says Sarsine. She points to a small stretch of empty beach. Both of us are shaky from cold as we bring the boat in and hide it among the rocks. Every time a seagull screeches, I jump. Every time the wind blows over the sand, I think it’s an Amparan soldier.

  Finally, the boat is hidden. Sarsine finds a sea cave that opens just above the high tide line, and we rush inside to flee the wind.

  “We were so sure the Amparans wouldn’t go there,” Sarsine mutters. She sits on a rock shelf above the mouth of the cave, frowning at the waves below.

  I think of that beach covered with soldiers. What does it mean for the war if the Amparans have come this far? What does this mean for the village? “We can’t wait at that beach for Slicewing to find us,” I say. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Maybe we can go directly to Dara,” Sarsine says uncertainly. “Maybe the village still stands.”

  She doesn’t really believe it, though, and neither do I. Scrawny’s huddled in the corner of the cave, smoothing out his wet feathers, and I call him over. “Find Dineas,” I tell him.

  He’s grumpy, but takes off after a few indignant caws. I feel some cautious hope as he flies confidently eastward, but no sooner has he disappeared than I realize he’s simply going to the old camps. There’s no telling if Dineas will actually be there. Sure enough, an hour later he returns with nothing tied to his leg, cawing sheepishly.

  “Nothing?” I ask Scrawny. “What about Tal or Gatha? Can you find them?”

  Scrawny jumps around apologetically, but doesn’t leave.

  “The village is empty isn’t it?” says Sarsine quietly. “Otherwise he would go.”

  She’s right. I struggle to contain my own dashed hopes. “If our people have abandoned Dara already,” I ask Sarsine, “how hard will it be to find them?”

  Sarsine prods her cheek with her tongue. “Depends on where they flee. These are big mountains and it’s easy to stay hidden in the bamboo. If our fighters are moving around, it could take weeks for us to find them, even with Scrawny lending us his eyes. And that’s assuming we don’t have Amparans in our way.”

  Weeks to reunite with our people? Weeks of wandering enemy territory on our own? “Do you think they might have left any hint of their whereabouts at the village?”

  From the way Sarsine grasps at my words, I can see she’s just as frightened as I. “Maybe.... It might be worth the risk.”

  We sleep fitfully that night in the damp cave, haunted by the sound of waves crashing and by our own fears, and we’re up early the next morning. Scrawny scouts for us on the trail. His shadow falls over us as he circles over our heads. I find it reassuring, though it also reminds me of Dineas. I wonder if he’s still alive, and whether he tried to find us at that beach. I tell myself that if we were able to avoid the Amparans there, then Dineas would have been able to as well. I have to believe that he’s still safe.

  As we near the village, we start seeing signs of Ampara. Trails have been widened, and the ground is torn up. Both of us fall quiet, our ears sharp for Scrawny’s warning call. Soon we start seeing rust-colored streaks on the bamboo. Sweat breaks out over my skin.

  “Should we keep going?” asks Sarsine.

  I’m not sure how to answer. I feel as if we’ve stepped into a land inhabited by ghosts. If I don’t go any farther, I can still pretend that it’s not my home. But I can’t walk away. Not until I know just how bad it is.

  “Scrawny hasn’t called,” I say. “Perhaps we can go a little farther.”

  Soon, the rust-colored streaks are joined by char marks. Sarsine points to something dark beyond the trees, and my stomach sinks at the sight of a burned cottage. Only the blackened frame is standing. The thatching’s completely gone, and large chunks of wall have collapsed. What furniture was inside has fallen apart.

  Whose house had it been? I try to remember, but I can’t. The place looks too different, and I’ve lived outside Dara too long. Down the path, I can see other houses similarly burned. There’s a ragged ditch in the ground, as if a giant had gouged it out with his fingers. I go toward it, only to back away at the smell of decaying flesh.

  Have you seen rivers of blood? Gullies that run red with the life of your kin? Your soldiers murdered, their weapons piled up for the Amparans to divide among themselves. Have you seen entire families wiped out, infants dashed against rocks, old men beheaded?

  Is this what happened here? Is this what became of my mother and father, of Leora and Alia? No. The leaders said they were going to move all the villagers into the mountains. They must have fled. Nevertheless, I hold my breath and force myself to the edge of the ditch. I’m relieved to see that the bodies wear Amparan armor, and then I’m ashamed of that relief.

  “We should go,” says Sarsine. She’s fidgety, shifting her weight and sweeping her gaze back and forth. I’ve never seen her this scared before. “There are bound to be troops nearby.”

  But there’s one more thing I need to see.

  “This way,” I say, and hurry down the path before Sarsine can react. Up a hill here, then around a smaller trail. By the time my family’s cottage comes into view, I’ve steeled myself for the
sight of charred bamboo and ashes. Still I stumble when I see it, and have to stop and will strength back into my legs so I can approach the burned frame. It’s empty inside, like all the others. No bodies—Dara, Shidadi, or Amparan. I reach out to touch the frame, but pull back just in time. If I don’t touch the house with my bare skin, then there’s still hope that someone can return and live here one day.

  “We won’t find anything here,” I say to Sarsine. “Let’s go.”

  She nods, relieved.

  We hike quickly, trying to put as much distance between us and the village as possible. The ground slopes up as we leave the valley, and finally we stop to refill our waterskins at a spring on the hillside. The magnitude of the search looms ahead of us.

  “You know your people,” I say to her. “Where do you think we should go?”

  “We might as well start on this side—go up into the mountains. I’ll look for signs and tracks. See if we can get some more hints.” She musters up a grin. “It takes a Shidadi to find—”

  Sarsine stops then and raises her hand. A twig cracks in the distance. Amparan commands drift toward us.

  “Run!” hisses Sarsine. We scramble away from the voices. The commands behind us turn into shouts, and an arrow whistles by our heads. Sarsine yanks me behind a cluster of bamboo, I fall into the thin stalks, my stomach dropping as they bend under my weight. Behind us, an archer and four swordsmen splash across the spring.

  Sarsine scowls. “If only I had a bow.”

  I pull out my blowgun and fit a dart. My first shot hits the archer as he plucks an arrow from his quiver. My next shot misses. And then the other four are upon us.

  Sarsine draws her sword and steps out to meet them. Three men surround her as the last one rushes at me. I step out from under his blade, blocking with my blowgun as Dineas had once taught me. The man’s gaze rests on my skin, and a flicker of fear crosses his eyes. I spit in his face. As he scrambles back, horrified, his foot catches on a rock and he collapses. While he lies, stunned, I draw a knife from my belt and open a vein in his leg. It’s easy, horrifyingly so. The man screams. From the way his wound bleeds, I know he won’t survive.

  I keep a tight grip on my knife and look around, bracing myself for the next attack, but the forest is eerily silent. My stomach flips as I realize I’m the only one standing. I look from body to body, counting the Amparan soldiers. One, two, three, four...

  And then my heart stutters and stops, because lying in the center, lifeless, is Sarsine.

  My bow is gone. My mother’s bow, the only possession of hers that I have left, is gone. Walgash must have knocked it out of my hands, and I failed to pick it up. Of all the idiot things I could have done...

  I lean over my knees, fighting to catch my breath and cursing myself for my carelessness. For a moment, I’m tempted to return for it. I could sneak back to where we fought Walgash. Maybe it’s still there.

  But the more I think about it, the more I know the folly of that plan. Only someone who wishes to enter Zenagua’s kingdom would go back to an enemy camp for a bow, even one with my mother’s initials carved into the wood. I have to leave it.

  Gods, it hurts, though.

  So this is what I have to show for disobeying Gatha. No bow, and no Zivah. And now I return to my people like a wayward pigeon and hope Gatha didn’t notice that I was gone.

  I slam my fist into my thigh, hardly noticing the pain.

  I’ll tell you what I know of Zivah, Walgash had said, right before he launched an arrow at me.

  Was it any more than a bluff? Did he actually know something? My gut tells me no. I don’t think Zivah’s actually been to their camp. Or perhaps that’s just something I need to believe.

  The journey back is excruciating, as if a piece of sinew from my heart were attached to that beach and more of it tears off the farther away I go. I find it easier to run. The harder I push myself, the less energy I have to think.

  As I get closer to the Shidadi camp, I start thinking about how to sneak back without being seen. Slicewing won’t be able to help me, since Shidadi scouts listen for crow warning calls. I might as well have her announce my presence. My only hope is if the scout on duty right now isn’t very alert. Gradually, I slow, scanning the foliage around me, crouching to stay out of view. When the wind picks up, every movement in the leaves looks like a Shidadi. I take one silent step, then another.

  The leaves part, and Gatha and Karu step into view.

  My lungs empty and I admit defeat.

  Karu gives me a look of unbridled disgust out of her good eye. “Your fighter fails us again, Gatha. How long will you let this continue?”

  Perhaps the worst thing is that Gatha doesn’t look surprised. She doesn’t look angry either, just resigned. “Where have you been?” she asks.

  I look her in the eye. “Scouting the shore.”

  “What were you scouting for?” asks Karu.

  Why is Karu here anyway? It’s bad enough to be caught in disgrace, but if I’m to be disciplined, I want it to be by my own warlord and not some woman who’s forgotten what it means to be Shidadi. I address my answer to Gatha. “I was looking for Zivah.”

  “You know where she is, then,” says Gatha.

  “Only where she was expected to return. There was a beach where I was supposed to meet her, but the Amparans have built an outpost there.”

  “Did you engage the Amparans?” asks Gatha.

  I hesitate.

  “Dineas.” Gatha’s a head shorter than me, but somehow still gives the impression that she’s in the higher position.

  “I engaged one soldier,” I say. “Neither of us were seriously injured.”

  Karu turns to Gatha. “Will you make more excuses for him? You must do something.”

  Gatha simply looks at me, her shoulders heavy. I don’t know how much longer her patience will last. Truth is, I don’t know how much more patience I deserve. I steel myself for what she’s about to say.

  And then an arrow embeds itself in Gatha’s ribs.

  Sarsine’s dead.

  I want to deny it, but her gaze is vacant, her body lifeless. My healer’s instincts don’t let me lie to myself.

  Lying there, she looks so young. Without her weapons skill or her constant chatter to distract me, I remember that she’s only fifteen years old.

  Scrawny lands between the two of us and eyes Sarsine. Then he hops over beside me, subdued.

  “She’s gone, Scrawny.”

  A lump catches in my throat, but I swallow my tears before they come. There’s no time to mourn, and no time to bury her. I cross her arms over her chest, murmuring a prayer to the Goddess, then add an awkward appeal to Zenagua, the Shidadi goddess of death. I take her daggers but leave her swords with her. I wouldn’t know how to use them, and they belong rightly with her.

  As I’m about to leave her, something about the fallen Amparan soldiers catches my eye. I’m not sure what it is at first. They look like any other soldiers, except...

  I spent a lot of time in Sehmar City with Dineas. I remember the armor and equipment he was issued as a normal recruit, and then as a member of the elite battalion Neju’s Guard. The armor and equipment worn by these soldiers are of a far better quality than anything Dineas had ever been given. Their cloaks are finely woven wool. Their armor is tough and supple. I see beaded inlays on the pommel of one man’s sword.

  Everything in me screams at me to run, but instead I edge closer to the fallen soldiers. One looks older than the others. Would he be in command? A small bag hangs from his belt. Inside is a ring with a purple stone. It’s carved with a seal depicting a tree with the sun and the moon as fruit. With the ring is a piece of parchment.

  Zivah: Black hair and eyes. Female. Fair skin. Slight build. Rosemarked. Eighteen years old.

  Sarsine: Shidadi. Umbertouched. Brown hair and eyes. Short, stocky build. Younger.

  Dara Village.

  I start to shake as I read the note again. And then I’m running as fast as I can,
up the mountainside and away from the village. I run until my lungs burn and I start tripping over my feet, until I finally collapse at the bottom of a cliff face. Scrawny lands in front of me and scolds me for my panicked exit.

  I take out the ring and parchment and look at them again. These weren’t simply soldiers that we were unlucky enough to run into. These men were waiting for us at Dara. They were sent to kill us. But who are they? Baruva’s men?

  “Scrawny, scout,” I say. The crow chatters with nerves but obediently takes wing. After he’s flown several circles without calling out a warning, my fear subsides a little.

  I don’t know where to go. Without Sarsine, I’m at a loss as to how to find our people, but I can’t stay here. As it grows dark, I take shelter underneath a grove of bamboo. Night finds me shivering in my blankets. I imagine sounds of fighting in the distance, and morbid thoughts crowd my mind. What if everyone from Dara is already dead, and I’m the only one left? Sleep is impossible. The mountains to either side of me loom larger than ever. I think about wandering the forests alone for weeks or months, hiding from Amparan soldiers while trying to find some clue of where our people have gone.

  Unless...what if Dineas is still sending Slicewing to the beach where we were supposed to meet him? Just because it was occupied by Amparans doesn’t mean a crow might not fly overhead. I’ve no desire to march back into a camp full of Amparan soldiers. On the other hand, I might not need to go all the way there in order to see Slicewing and call her down.

  Scrawny gives confused chirps the next morning when I start walking back the direction we’d come. I set him to scouting again. This time I have my blowgun at the ready, and I move as quietly as I can. After a while, I start to smell the ocean, and several times I run and hide as Scrawny calls a warning. When the trails start to look better traveled, I decide I’ve gone as far as I dare. I find a secluded spot off the trail, obscured by brush but with a decent view of the sky.