The Scourge

by Henley, A. G.

  “I was devastated. I couldn’t understand how my perfect, healthy baby became Sightless. Was it an illness? An accident? I went to our Council. I asked them to tell me the truth. And nothing was the same for me after that.”

  I’m stunned. “I can’t believe it . . . you’re my mother?”

  She cups my cheek in her hand. “Yes, love.” She speaks to me gently. “And, unfortunately, there’s more to tell you.”

  My head swivels back and forth against her palm, before I realize I’m moving it. “I don’t want to know any more. This is enough. I’ve always wanted to know who my natural mother was, and now I do”

  Kadee’s voice is gentle. “You need to know the rest and I need to tell you. Not to be cruel or spiteful, but because I won’t collude with lies anymore. I can’t. You’re almost an adult, and you need to hear this before you return home. You should know what they did to you.”

  “What who did?”

  “Your people.”

  My stomach twists like a wrung-out rag. I feel sick. “What did they do?”

  Kadee lays her hands across my eyes, and her voice breaks with a soft sob. “Blinded you. My baby girl. They took your sight.”

  “They wouldn’t. Aloe wouldn’t let them.”

  She doesn’t speak for a moment. “I’d like to think she didn’t have any part of it. After all, the same thing happened to her.”

  “You mean . . . they blinded Aloe, too?”

  “Do you think Sightlessness is so common that babies would be born without sight, generation after generation? If so, why aren’t any Lofties Sightless?”

  I can barely catch my breath to speak. I’m breathing hard, and bile fills my mouth. “Why? Why would they do that to us?”

  Kadee’s words are fissured with grief. “For the good of your community. So you could bear the water when you came of age. And I suppose they thought they were giving the gift of protection from the Scourge.”

  “But why me?”

  “Because you were a Lofty baby.” Her voice is suddenly hard, her meaning clear. No Groundling would destroy the sight of their own child.

  I scramble around the tree and throw up the berry stick and what’s left of my breakfast. I wave Kadee away, but she won’t go. She holds my hair back from my face, rubs my back, and tells me how sorry she is. I stay on my hands and knees, panting and spitting, until my stomach is empty.

  After a few minutes I crawl back and collapse against the tree again, my head in my hands. I feel like someone placed a rock on my shoulders that’s forcing me down, down, down into the ground. I don’t know if I can bear up under its weight.

  “After I saw what they did to you, the idea of leaving the trees forever took hold of me,” Kadee says. “The Exchange was bad enough, but I couldn’t stay among people that allowed their children to be maimed, even for the good of all.”

  I consider her words. What happened to me wasn’t Kadee’s fault any more than any other parent over the years that cooperated with the Exchange. But she could have said something about what she knew. Did Aloe know I would be blinded, and allow it to happen? Or even suspect? I’m not ready to deal with that possibility yet.

  “Does Peree know you’re my . . . mother? Does Nerang?”

  “Both Peree and Nerang know I had to give up a child, but neither know that child was you. When I saw how you and Peree felt about each other, I thought you might want to be the one to tell him.”

  Peree and I aren’t related by blood, but the man and woman who raised him are my natural parents. That’s practically family. I think about telling him that, and my stomach twists again. “And Shrike?” I ask.

  “He knows. He may have even asked Aloe to foster you. She wanted a child. I’ve often wondered if you were part of the reason Shrike wouldn’t go to Koolkuna. If he left the forest, he’d have to leave you, too.” She pauses. “Fennel, I’m going back today because I failed as a mother. I failed you when I gave you up in the Exchange, and I failed Peree when I left the trees. It’s time for me to stand up, not only for my children, but for all the children of the forest.”

  I told Peree I expect surprises, that I’m used to them, but nothing could prepare me for all of this. Kadee is my mother, Shrike is my father, and Peree is sort of my brother. My people intentionally blinded me, and Aloe fostered me as some kind of favor. I pitch to the side again, retching.

  When my stomach empties, tears well up like blood from a wound. I cry for our world, destroyed by people who recklessly believed they could control a deadly poison. I cry for the sick ones, doomed to walk the earth hungry and wretched, shunned as monsters. I cry for our people, who hide in caves or trees because they can’t see the world as it really is. And I cry for myself. Because for no good reason, I can’t see at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sit, waiting for my stomach to settle and my legs to stop shaking. Kadee doesn’t press me to talk or to keep moving. She waits beside me, a witness. I want to be angry at her for giving me up, and for leaving Peree. Mostly for being weak. But at first all I feel is the dazed, empty sensation that my world was again overturned like a bucket of dirty washing water.

  When the rage comes, it snakes through my veins, hardening my resolve. Who did they think they were, treating innocent children this way? All of them—Lofties and Groundlings. Who decided babies could be traded like so much meat or grain? Used to serve their purposes? That people could be separated and kept in their place with threats, brute force, and fear, supported by antiquated traditions?

  Kadee. Aloe. Shrike. The Three. Every adult in my life, everyone who ever had the responsibility to protect me, failed me instead. I’ve spent my life trying to live up to what my family and my people expected me to be. What they made me. The Water Bearer. Until now, I didn’t allow myself any other choice but to do my duty. Until now.

  I stand and wait for the dizziness to pass, then I swing my pack on my back. It’s time to go home. And Kadee’s right. It’s time for the secrets and lies to end.

  Clouds wander in front of the sun, dispelling the heat. When the trees thin out, Kadee offers me her arm again. My mother’s arm. I pay more attention to it now. It’s thin, but not so bony as Aloe’s. Her skin is softer, too. I wonder if I look like her at all. No one ever said so, but they wouldn’t have unless the resemblance was striking.

  There’s rustling in the woods, and soft moans. I stiffen.

  “Don’t worry,” Kadee murmurs, catching my hand. “It’s only the runa.”

  I clamp my lips together, pushing down the panic. In my seventeen years, no one ever said, “Don’t worry, it’s only the Scourge.” They were too busy running.

  I focus on keeping the same steady pace as the creatures draw near us. The stench threatens to gag me again. My throat tightens and the hair bristles along the back of my neck. As more of the sick ones shuffle up, Kadee pulls food from her pack, offering it to them. These creatures don’t give thanks, but they do eat. Or try to eat. It sounds like the food dribbles out of some of their mouths. I try to summon any feeling more compassionate than disgust. I fail.

  I can’t yet forget the horrific stories of the Scourge I grew up hearing, the memories of the many times they pursued us to the caves, or the hordes of them pressing in on me, their tongues worrying the flesh where their lips should be. The foul smell brings the memories back so clearly. I press Peree’s little bird against my chest, wishing he was here.

  The creatures follow us, muttering and moaning for help. When one of them stumbles toward me I shrink away, trembling with the desire to run. Run anywhere. It doesn’t matter which direction, as long as it’s away from anything familiar. I want freedom. I want to escape. Like in my dream.

  As usual, it’s the thought of Eland that keeps me moving forward. Despite everything I learned today, or maybe because of it, I need to know if he’s all right.

  “How much longer?” I ask, my voice stiff and unrecognizable.

  “Not long. I recognize the shape of the hills here
. We’re close.”

  That brings a question to mind. “Why don’t the runa go into the caves? They would at least offer protection from the weather.”

  “Because of the cold and the dark. They’re even less prepared to deal with it than we are. I know it’s hard to think of them as people, but that’s what they are. Sick, confused, sometimes dangerous, but people.”

  One of the creatures mimics her, repeating the word people several times, like a young child just learning to speak. “Can they ever be brought back? Their minds, I mean?”

  “The anuna tried caring for a few of the sick ones, to see if they could reverse the process of the poison. It seemed to depend on how long they had been sick.” She hesitates. “Kaiya was one of the few successes.”

  That stuns me. “What?”

  “We don’t speak of this often,” Kadee says. “As a young girl, Kai wandered away from her parents, into the forest. The tracking party found her, but she had become runa. In time, Nerang was able to bring her back.”

  “Is she . . . normal, now?”

  “Yes. For the most part. But I’m sorry to say she was never quite treated the same after that. People feared her, I think. She’s always kept to herself—a loner either by choice or necessity.”

  “She liked being with Peree.”

  “He was kind to her. He didn’t know about her background. And, well, she’s a young girl, and he’s a handsome boy.”

  So I keep hearing. I scowl, feeling the familiar irritation, but it’s followed by guilt that I didn’t try harder to befriend Kai. I know how isolating it can be to feel different.

  Kadee squeezes my hand tentatively. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, when it comes to Peree’s feelings about you.” She stops, and I hear her drop her pack on the ground. “Take out any food and water you have. We need to leave it here.”

  “Why?”

  “For the runa. Otherwise they’ll follow us home. Anyone who sees them will think we’re in danger of being consumed.”

  At that, I do what she asked, and we walk away as the sick ones surround the small pile. Lost in my brooding, I start to wonder if we’re close enough to home now for me to recognize anything. I’m accustomed to retracing my steps when I’m away from the community, not approaching it from a completely unknown direction. The truth is, I could stumble right into our clearing and not realize it. So I’m not too surprised when that’s exactly what happens.

  The sun is setting, intensifying the darkness, when Kadee slows again. “Welcome home,” she says.

  Really? I hurry forward, groping in front of me to find anything that feels familiar. It smells like home, but then again the entire greenheart forest smells like home. There are no voices, or sounds of fires being kindled, or smells of food being prepared. I only hear a few plaintive bird calls from the trees. My heart sinks. Everyone must still be in the caves. But why? The Scourge isn’t here.

  “The shelters look like they haven’t been used,” Kadee says. She sounds worried. “Fennel, perhaps we should–”

  An arrow slices the air beside my ear. Another divides the narrow space between us.

  “Stop right there,” a man says from the trees. “Unless you want to be under the ground by morning.”

  We freeze. A moment later, someone snickers.

  “Then they’d be Undergroundlings, Petrel,” a boy says.

  “Quiet,” the man mutters.

  “Petrel? Is that you?” Kadee calls.

  The leaves above us tremble as someone moves closer, following a walkway. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s your Aunt Blaze,” Kadee says. “And Fennel, the Water Bearer.”

  “Try again,” he says bitterly. “Blaze is dead, and so is the Water Bearer."

  “No, we’re alive . . . and Peree, too,” I say. "He was injured, but he’s recovering.”

  “Peree’s alive? Where is he?” the boy chirps. He sounds younger than Eland. Why is a young boy armed and shooting at Groundlings?

  “Thrush, go find Shrike,” Petrel says. The boy runs off, skittering down the walkway like a squirrel. I hear Petrel pull an arrow from his quiver to reload his bow.

  “Trusting, isn’t he?” I whisper.

  “He used to be,” Kadee says sadly.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper. “Where do you think everyone is?”

  “I don’t know.” She takes a shaky breath, and I realize how hard this must be for her—coming home, preparing to see the partner and the people she left years ago. I wish I could muster more sympathy.

  “It’ll be okay, Kadee,” I say. But they’re just words. Something is very wrong, I can feel it.

  “Best to call me Blaze for now. They won’t know my new name.”

  Heavier, slower footsteps move through the trees, stopping above us.

  “Blaze.”

  It’s Shrike. And right then I know Kadee was telling the truth about him. Peree couldn’t have sounded more shocked when he saw his mother for the first time in Koolkuna. Shrike sounds resigned, like he knew this day might come.

  “I brought our daughter home,” she says. Shrike’s silent for a long time. Then a rope ladder clatters down a few feet away from us.

  “Don’t go down there, Shrike,” Thrush pleads.

  “It’s all right. This is my family." His voice is harsh, and I feel Kadee stiffen next to me.

  “But one’s a Groundling, and I’ve never seen the other one before,” the boy says.

  Petrel shushes him. The ladder squeaks under Shrike’s weight as he climbs. If we’re standing where I think we’re standing, this is the same place the Lofties dropped down to the clearing during the Summer Solstice celebration, and the ladder they used to escape when the Scourge came. When they left us to fend for ourselves. Bitterness pecks at me, opening old wounds.

  “I am Shrike’s partner, but I left the trees,” Kadee says to Thrush. “I went to a place called Koolkuna. It's safe there, with plenty of food, water, and no flesh–”

  “Stop,” Shrike says. He drops down beside us, the solid thump reminding me of the rock falling from the trees to the ground in Koolkuna. “Don’t fill his head with lies.”

  “They aren’t lies,” Kadee says.

  “Forgive me if I don't instantly believe you,” Shrike says. “Honesty wasn’t your forte, was it?”

  “I’ve been to Koolkuna,” I say, “and what she says is true.”

  A heavy hand lies on my shoulder briefly. “Fennel, I’m glad to know you’re safe. But there’s a history here that you don’t understand.”

  “I understand enough,” I say. “Like that you and Blaze are my natural parents, and Aloe only fostered me because you asked her to.”

  Shrike chuckles. “Aloe wanted you from the second you were placed in her arms at the Exchange. She adored you . . . we all did,” Shrike says. Regret is strong in his voice. When he speaks again, his voice has hardened. “Where’s Peree?”

  “In Koolkuna,” Kadee answers. “He’s safe.”

  Shrike must have looked less-than-convinced, because she says sharply, “I’m his mother. Do you think I’d lie about that?” In that moment I can understand how she got her Lofty name.

  I step between them. “I don’t know if it will help, but Peree told me to show you this.”

  I pull the bird carving up from under the front of my dress. Petrel whistles softly from the trees. Shrike plucks it from my fingers and examines it.

  “It’s good work,” he grunts.

  “He said to tell you he trusts me."

  “I guess so,” Petrel says. He laughs, but I don’t get the joke.

  “I promise he’s okay. He injured his leg, but it’s getting stronger every day. He’s coming back as soon as he can.”

  Shrike just stands there, holding the bird.

  “I know this isn’t easy,” I say softly. “It wasn’t easy for Peree and me to trust each other either.”

  He lays the bird back down, and I tuck it away.

  “W
here are Aloe and the others, Shrike? Are they all right?” I ask.

  “They’re in the caves.”

  “Why?” I listen closely, but I can only hear the gentle sounds of the forest. No creatures.

  “There’s been some trouble.”

  An uncomfortable prickling starts at my scalp and wriggles down my neck. “What kind?”

  “Your people attacked us—they actually came up into the trees.” He sounds like he still can’t believe it. “We drove them back, killing one. And one of our women was also killed in the crossfire.”

  “Who?” Kadee and I ask in unison. I don’t think we’re asking about the same person.

  “Glow,” he tells Kadee. “She was the lookout that night. I don’t know the Groundling’s name. Since then, we’ve kept them confined to the caves.”

  I gasp. “You can’t!”

  “No? Why not? We didn’t start this.”

  I’m as shocked by his tone as I am by his words. Peree was clearly regretful when he told me about killing Jackal, so different from the contempt suffusing his father’s—my father’s—voice.

  “They must have been desperate!” I say. “The people don’t want a war.”

  “The Three should have considered that before they made their decision.” Now he sounds resentful. As one of the Three, Aloe had to agree to the plan. Why would she do that? Was she outvoted again?

  “How long are you planning to hold them hostage?” I ask.

  “Until we receive a formal apology, and word that Adder has been replaced on the Council of Three. We think the order came from him.”

  I shake my head. “He’ll never give up being on the Council.”

  “Then he’s condemning your people to death,” Shrike says flatly.

  I have to find out what’s going on in the caves. And quickly. “Shrike, I need to talk to Aloe. Maybe there’s something I can do. Will you allow me to collect the water in the morning, so I can talk to you again?”

  I imagine something unspoken passing between Kadee and Shrike, but after a moment, he agrees.

  “Be careful how much you tell Aloe. She's . . . changed,” he warns.

  His words chill me. I want to question him, but even more I want to get in the caves and find out what's going on for myself.