The Belial Sacrifice

by R. D. Brady

  Riley stumbled, shaking his head, his eyes huge. But Muriel took him by the arm, pulling him forward. “She’ll be right back.” She gave Lyla a nod.

  Lyla turned and climbed the maple near her, scampering up like she’d done a thousand times in training. She crouched low on a branch fifteen feet up and scanned behind her. There was a cliff face ten feet to her right. She couldn’t tell how high it was, but she could see the flow of water beyond it, letting her know it would be high enough for her needs.

  Crashing sounded through the brush. She tensed, taking a few deep breaths to center herself. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. Don’t anticipate. Just react.

  One of the beings sped into view. The thing was big—close to nine feet tall. And it was broad—almost four feet wide at the chest.

  Lyla swallowed as it raced toward her—raced in the direction that Muriel and Riley had disappeared. Fear swelled up in her chest. She shoved it down. She would let herself be scared later. Right now, she had to protect them. That came before everything else.

  She tensed, waiting for the being to approach, not sure what she would do if it looked up and saw her. But it didn’t look up, too focused on the path ahead.

  As soon as it was under her hiding spot, she swung from the branch, slamming her feet into its back. It was like hitting a tree. It stumbled forward but didn’t fall.

  Lyla hit the ground but quickly rolled to her feet, pulling her staff into her arms.

  The being turned, but Lyla was already moving. She sent her staff up between its legs. The being paused, and then its legs buckled. Lyla slammed the staff into the back of its legs, its ribs, the back of its neck. The being jostled with each hit. It raised its weapon, and Lyla brought her own staff across its hand with all her might. Using her staff, she twisted its hand, and then with a quick snap of her staff, disarmed it. Its weapon went flying into a bush.

  The being paused as if in disbelief. Lyla aimed another shot at its groin, but the being sidestepped and reached out, one hand wrapping around Lyla’s neck. Her staff slipped from her hand. Her feet lifted off the ground, kicking and not finding purchase. Fear poured through her as her mind scrambled for something, anything, to do against its strength.

  It’s stronger. You’re faster and lighter. Use it. The voice barking in her head sounded exactly like her father.

  She kicked out, hitting it in the groin again, then grabbed it by the back of the head with one hand and punched it in the throat with the other. She ran her feet up the being’s chest, slamming the heel of her boot into its chin and using the momentum to flip herself over and out of its grasp.

  She rolled as she hit the ground and grabbed her staff in one fluid motion. She moved forward, never stopping her strikes—knee, groin, ribs, neck, side, groin, stomach, neck. Over and over again, she struck, not giving herself a chance to pause, not giving it a chance to do anything but back away.

  Lyla adjusted her grip and slammed the end of her staff into the middle of its neck. It grabbed at its neck as it stumbled back and tipped over the cliff’s edge.

  Lyla didn’t wait to see if it survived. She took off after Muriel and Riley. But part of her couldn’t help but cheer.

  She sprinted through the trees, her eyes peeled for any sign of Muriel and Riley’s passage. A broken branch here and a footprint there pointed the way. She picked up speed as she rounded an oak and saw them up ahead.

  Muriel whirled around as Lyla approached, her face determined despite her fear. But her face melted at the sight of Lyla. Lyla didn’t pause as she caught up with them. “Keep going.”

  But she did take the time to run her hand over Riley’s hair. Together they ran, no one speaking. Then Riley tripped, tumbling to the ground.

  Lyla was at his side in an instant. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. The blasting sound came from ahead.

  Lyla went still. Another blasting sound came from their left, maybe a hundred yards.

  Lyla directed them to the right, her eyes scanning for any threat. They ran in silence, but Lyla still couldn’t hear anything over the sound of blood pounding in her ears. Even as she ran, she tried to calm her breathing, forcing herself to breathe in cadence with her steps. Focus, breathe, listen.

  And too close, she heard the sound of someone running toward them.

  Ahead, the ground rose sharply. A wall of rocks. It was a thirty-foot-high retaining wall left over from the Before. The rocks jutted out, making it easy to climb, but the moss covering it would make it slick.

  “This way. Quickly,” Lyla said. She headed to a small alcove hidden next to the wall, pulling Riley and Muriel in with her.

  Muriel looked out. “Shouldn’t we—”

  “Shh.” Lyla nodded outside. Muriel’s eyes grew wide. One of the beings stepped into the clearing. Lyla slowly eased Riley back toward her and slipped her hand over his mouth. His breaths were coming out in loud pants. He turned to her. She gave him a small smile with a nod.

  It’ll be okay, she tried to tell him with her eyes, but inside she was shaking. She couldn’t think of a way to get them out of here. And if those beings looked too closely, they’d see their hiding spot for sure.

  A second being stepped into the clearing. The two seemed to confer before one started heading to the right. The other took up position thirty feet away from them. The path leading back to the Old Mill was open, but there was no way they could make it without that thing seeing them.

  Maybe I could outrun them. I could head to the mill, lead it away, and then somehow get back to Muriel and Riley. Even as she thought it she knew it was a suicide mission. And then it hit her. We’re not going to make it.

  Muriel shifted so that she was closest to the exit. She turned to Riley, running a hand over his face.

  And Lyla’s heart broke. Muriel knew this was the end, too. They wouldn’t be able to escape this time. Lyla’s heart tripped as she looked into Muriel’s face, the face that looked so much like hers.

  Muriel gave Lyla the smile that reminded Lyla so much of their mother as she leaned over Riley’s head to kiss her cheek. A tear slipped down Lyla’s cheek, but she nodded at her sister and took a breath. They would face this together, just like always.

  Muriel’s eyes were bright with tears. “Remember your promise.”

  Lyla’s stomach dropped, and the world seemed to stop. She reached for Muriel’s arm. “No, Muriel.”

  But her hand touched only air as Muriel sprinted from their hiding spot and out into the clearing.

  “No!” Riley yelled, lunging for his mom. Lyla clamped a hand over his mouth and yanked him away from the alcove opening.

  Riley struggled against his aunt’s grasp, but she held on, not giving him an inch. His whole body shook with fear and horror as he watched his mom race away from them.

  No, Mom. No!

  He struggled against his aunt, but she held him so tightly. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand. All Riley could do was watch as his mom disappeared down the path, one of the things charging toward her as it caught sight of her. A second being appeared and took off after her as well, and Riley felt his knees give out. But Lyla held him tight, not letting him fall.

  Riley felt the tears rise in his throat. Mom, come back, he begged silently. Mom.

  Lyla lowered her head, her voice fierce in his ear, but even then he could hear the tears she held back. “Do not throw away her sacrifice. You run, God damn it.”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the clearing, and they headed in the opposite direction his mother had disappeared. Behind them, he heard the blasts from the things’ spears. His heart seemed to stop. But his aunt just tugged him harder, pulling him farther away.

  Riley got his feet under him and started to run, a picture of his mom frozen in his mind. His aunt set a grueling pace, never letting go of Riley’s hand.

  At one point, Riley stumbled, going down hard on one knee. Lyla was in front of him immediately, kneeling down. “Get up, Riley. Get u
p.”

  Grief and fear rose in him, tears rolled down his cheeks. “It hurts.”

  Lyla’s face held not an ounce of compassion in it. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Not right now. Later, you can let yourself feel the pain, the hurt. Right now, you survive. So get. Up.”

  Riley looked at his aunt, who always had a smile for him, a laugh. But she wasn’t laughing now. Her face was set like stone.

  “We need to go back. Mom needs us—”

  “She’s gone, Riley.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do, and so do you. And we need to move. You want to be a Phoenix? Show me you have what it takes. Get. Up.”

  With a shuddering breath, Riley got to his feet. His knee buckled, but he waved his aunt off when she reached out a hand. “I got it,” he spit out.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  She took off again, and Riley was right behind her. He didn’t utter a single word of protest as they cut over hills and slogged through streams. She led them on, never stumbling, never questioning where she was going. Riley followed behind her, a sense of unreality falling over him. He kept replaying his mom running out into the clearing over and over again, trying to find a way that his memory was faulty, something to assure him that she hadn’t done that. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he left them unchecked as they trekked on.

  Mom, come back.

  They ran until the sun sank below the horizon and the sky had turned pink. He leaned against a tree, exhaustion falling over him like a blanket. He couldn’t remember ever being so tired in his whole life. He just wanted to close his eyes and see his mom when he woke up. His aunt disappeared from view for a moment. He knew he should probably be sacred, but he was too tired, too numb to feel anything, even fear.

  Lyla reappeared seconds later. “I don’t think anyone’s following us. We should be good. We’ll sleep here tonight.” Lyla pointed to a tree with low branches that would act as cover.

  Riley only nodded, too tired to do anything else.

  Lyla looked at him and her expression softened. “Come on.”

  He blinked hard, forcing his eyes back open. He’d nearly fallen asleep while standing. “I thought we were staying here.”

  “We are, but there’s something we have to do first.”

  Lyla led him around a small rocky hill. She climbed up about six feet, waving him up behind her. There was a large flat rock at the top. She pulled him up and then took a seat, her feet dangling over the edge. She patted the rock next to her. “Take a seat,” she said softly.

  He looked up at her. This Lyla was the aunt he knew, not the warrior. This was the one who always had time for a hug or a laugh. Tears laced her eyes and Riley felt the grief take him over. When she was the warrior pushing him, it was easier to shove his own feelings away, to not give in to them. But now? Now she was Lyla, and he felt his eyes burn with tears.

  Even so, he hesitated, fear of what could be lurking holding him back. If Lyla thought it was safe, though, it must be. And while part of him worried about being out in the open, another larger part of him couldn’t work up the energy to care even if there was one of those things in the trees.

  On automatic pilot, he climbed and sat next to her, feeling the warmth of her arm through his shirt. Neither of them spoke. They simply sat and watched the sunset. It was a beautiful one. The sky was a blaze of color, pale blue to orange, pink, red, and finally black, dotted with stars.

  Riley watched it all, almost numb. She can’t be gone. She can’t be. He repeated the same phrases over and over in his mind, each time picturing a different ending. He grabbed his mother to keep her from leaving. He ran after her. He yelled and distracted those things making them follow him instead of her. On and on his mind teased him with all the possibilities. But they didn’t matter. He’d done none of that. And his mother was gone.

  Riley looked over at his aunt, surprised to see tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked down at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Your mom gave us that sunset and every one we see from this day forward. It’s our job not to waste them.”

  Riley watched the night sky through his own haze of tears. Memories of his mom, her hugs, her laugh, what seemed like every moment with her went through his mind in an unstopping reel. And the dam he had built up over his emotions during their escape burst wide open.

  “I don’t want her to be dead,” he sobbed.

  Lyla wrapped both her arms around him. Her tears dripped onto his neck, her voice thick. “Me, either, Riley. Me, either.”

  Five Years Later

  Seventeen-year-old Miles Jones walked down the row of shelters in the Attlewood camp, books cradled in the nook of his right arm. His left arm, which stopped just below the elbow, was pressed on top of the stack to keep them from falling.

  Two of the Phoenixes, Rory and Angel, had returned from a scavenge and had managed to find some medical texts. Miles knew one of them was useless—all about laparoscopic surgery. He was lucky if he had a sharp knife, never mind anything more advanced. But the other one on infectious diseases might end up being useful. And who knew? Maybe someday the laparoscopic one would be as well. There were some places that managed to get electricity up and running, at least sporadically.

  The shouts of a group of boys drifted down toward him. Four teens walked down the dirt path, jostling and pushing each other. In front, Adros Ryder, a muscular boy with unkempt blond hair and the ringleader, spied Miles.

  Miles groaned, picking up his pace. He didn’t need this today. He ducked his head, attempting to skirt past the group.

  Adros stepped in front of him. “Hey, Gimpy, reading more books?”

  “Leave me alone, Adros.” Miles tried to walk around him.

  Adros put out an arm, blocking his way. His friends lined up next to him, also blocking Miles’s path.

  Adros snorted, glancing at Miles’s pile of books. “Laparoscopic Surgery, Infectious Diseases, and The Gods of Ancient Egypt. Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

  “He is smart. And we’re lucky he is.” Riley Quinn stepped out from between the cabins next to them. With dark brown hair lightened by the sun with just a touch of red, and bright blue eyes, Riley was in appearance the polar opposite of Miles with his dark skin, hair, and eyes. Yet there were no two closer. They were brothers in every way except biology.

  Riley stepped onto the path, his arms crossed over his chest. The action pushed out his biceps, making them look even larger. Miles knew it wasn’t an accident. With Adros, it was always important to remind him when a fight would be evenly matched.

  And Riley was the only one who was a match for Adros physically. But Adros had never been able to take Riley down in any training exercises. Because unlike Adros, Riley used more than just muscle when he fought. He actually used his brain. Which probably made it unfair for Adros, because Miles was pretty sure he didn’t have one.

  “There a problem here, Adros?” Riley asked, coming to halt next to Miles.

  Adros’s friends took a step back as if to signify they had no allegiances to him.

  Adros put up both his hands with a smirk. “No problem, just talking.” He whacked Miles’s right arm, sending the books flying. “See you later, buddy.” With a laugh, Adros walked away, his minions following behind him.

  Miles squatted down to get his books. “Asshole.”

  Riley crouched down next to him, reaching for a book. “Yeah.”

  “I got it.” Miles’s voice was rough. He felt his face burn.

  Riley ignored him, picking up the books. “Hey, he’s a jerk. Don’t let him get to you.” Riley stood, reaching down his hand.

  Miles clasped it, letting Riley pull him up. “Thanks.”

  Riley handed him the books. “You’re worth ten Adroses.”

  Miles smiled. “Only ten?”

  Riley shrugged. “I could be talked into twenty.”

  Miles laughed, feeling some of the tension leave his chest.

  “W
hy don’t we go down to the training yard? You’re getting pretty good with that sword and shield.”

  All the Phoenixes wore swords at all times, but Miles with his half arm, couldn’t use one well. A few months ago, Riley had surprised Miles with an attachment for his half arm that Hilda, the metal smith, had created. It was a metal sleeve with a sword at the end. At first, Miles had balked at using it, but Riley had needled him until he agreed. And Miles had to admit, he liked having the use of two arms in a fight instead of one. It had been awkward to use in the beginning, but now it was a like another appendage. And it made him feel powerful. Not an emotion he was used to.

  Miles wanted to go with Riley, but duty came first. He shook his head. “No. Maybe tomorrow. I need to go through these. One of the Carolina kids is sick. I’m trying to figure out why.”

  “Fine. But I’m going hold you to it.”

  “Ah, gentlemen. Just the men I was hoping to run into.” Simon Tolliver, the camp teacher, walked down the path, his legs moving fast. Simon was a few inches shorter than Miles’s six feet, with a very thin frame. Miles figured it was probably nervous energy or brain energy that kept him from gaining weight. The man was always moving, always thinking.

  “Hi, Simon,” Riley said.

  Miles nodded his greeting. “What’s going on?”

  Simon came to a stop next to them, his cape swirling around him. “It seems some of my students are under the impression that Phoenixes do not need to know anything from books. I thought you two could come and disavow them of that notion.”

  Miles shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I need to go see Dixie.”

  Simon’s smile dimmed. “I heard she was sick. Any ideas what it is?”

  Simon had been the camp doctor for years, more out of default than anything else. But when Miles had shown an affinity for the work, he’d happily handed over the reins, even though Miles was only seventeen.

  Miles had a few ideas about Dixie’s illness, although as he hefted the textbook, he knew he needed to check a few more things before he was sure. “I’m close. Hopefully I’ll know by the end of the day.”