“He didn’t mean it,” I said, desperate to make her happy. “He’s not good with this kind of thing.”
“This kind of thing?” she asked.
I wished she hadn’t asked that because I really didn’t know what I’d meant. Girl kind of thing? Surprise Sisters kind of thing?
“Surprises,” I said. “You took him by surprise is all.”
“I ruined your mission?”
“What?” How she came to that conclusion I had no idea. “You saved it. The three of us owe you our lives. Av just said all that ’cause he really does care about you. I promise; I’m his best friend, I can tell. I think it’s just freaking him out a little bit. But it only freaks him out because of how much he cares.”
She said nothing.
“Better?”
She looked up at me and smiled. “Yes, better.” And she slipped her arm through mine.
We walked that way awhile, not speaking, just linked, and I felt like I could walk that way forever.
“What about your Brother?” she said, finally. “How old is he?”
“Six.”
“What is his name?”
“Cubby.” I thought of him then, if he could’ve been there with me, met Lussit. He would have loved her instantly.
“He has a very good Big Brother.”
I bit my lip because it wasn’t true. “There are a lot of people who would disagree with you….”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged, not sure I wanted to get into the whole thing, not sure I wanted to talk about how I was a miserable Big Brother to Cubby, always annoyed, always snapping at him. I couldn’t teach him anything because I wasn’t good at anything, so I took it out on him. Truth was, Cubby had rotten luck getting stuck with me. Before I knew it, I’d told all this to Lussit, who listened attentively. When I was done, I felt that lump, that annoying, painful swell in the back of my throat that so often crept up on me these last four days.
She rubbed my arm gently, her hand making the skin instantly warm in the frigid night air. She got on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “Cubby is very lucky to have someone who cares about him as much as you do.”
She gave me that smile that was all love and kindness and then looked ahead, continuing with the journey.
I walked with her, arm in arm, but my brain was still back at the moment she kissed me. I wasn’t sure what I did right—if anything I thought she’d be appalled and run away, but she hadn’t. She’d kissed me.
“Mother seeker!” Fiver bellowed up ahead.
I could hear the quiet trickle of water, and I could make out the bridge, just a shadow in the distance. We’d reached the river.
“Boat’s gone,” announced Av. “Water must have carried it.”
Av was right. We hadn’t tied it to anything.
“So we walk?” I said.
“And fast,” said Fiver. “Those Belphebans will be hot on our trail come first light.”
Lussit nodded. We were running out of time.
Av took off at a quick jog down the bank of the river and me, Fiver, and Lussit silently followed. We were in for a long night, but we had to put as much distance between us and an angry Serin as possible.
Too late.
I watched a dagger sail out of nowhere, just barely missing Fiver’s head and slamming into a nearby tree.
“Already?” screamed Fiver, who didn’t stop running. None of us stopped, we just ran faster.
Lussit was lagging behind so I grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She was trying, but her top speed was a lot slower than ours.
Another dagger whizzed by. This one I could hear as it flew past my right ear.
I veered to the left, dragging Lussit with me. Fiver and Av kept running ahead. I didn’t know where they were going, I didn’t know where we were going, but we had to go. I ran as fast as I could with Lussit slowing me down. Neither of us was a particularly good runner and I realized we were the easiest people in the world to track. Lussit was squealing every time a branch flew back in her face, or she had a momentary loss of balance, while I was snapping every brittle twig that came under my foot. We were loud and destructive. They’d follow us easily.
I stopped.
“What are you doing?” she gasped between labored breaths.
There was a thick mossy trunk just beside us, vines and undergrowth weaving around its base.
“Get in there!” I whispered, and gently pushed her in that direction. She was quick to follow my instructions and we forced our way into the shelter of the leaves and vegetation.
It was a tight space, and we sat, her hands on my lap and her frightened breath hot on my ear. She smelled like spices and water, and I began to worry that she’d notice my stink. We sat as quietly as we could, waiting with thumping hearts, and I promised myself I’d do whatever I could to keep her safe from whatever came for us.
There was the sound of snapping twigs nearby, just one or two. Then nothing. Silence. It could have easily been an animal, but a cold chill ran up my spine and I had a feeling, a feeling like Fiver must have felt that night in Fendar Sticks. We were being watched.
Just then, I was yanked by the throat and pulled with a mighty force from my hiding spot. Lussit let out a scream and I was thrown to the ground, my face in the dirt.
“You thought you could escape, little boy?” Farka. She circled around me, snarling and seething.
I moved to get up but she kicked me in the stomach and I collapsed, gasping for breath and wincing from the pain.
“Farka, please,” cried Lussit. “Let him go!”
“But, Sacred Innocent!” Farka said. “I’ve come to save you! They are in league with the Beginners.”
“No, they aren’t,” pleaded Lussit. “I don’t need you to save me, Farka. They are our friends.”
I got ahold of myself again and moved to get up. Farka was waiting for it and she pelted me in the groin. I bit down and my whole body lit up from the pain.
“My lady! They were plotting to kill Serin!”
She kicked me again.
“Farka!” boomed Lussit in that commanding voice she hid so well when we were talking on the road. “I am guided by the ethereal light, and I know what I am doing. You will leave these boys alone.”
Farka stared at Lussit, dumbfounded and confused. That was when Fiver bodychecked her.
He flew in from the shadows and sent Farka to the ground, landing on top of her. She screamed and roared as she struggled underneath him, and then Av arrived, taking the opportunity to grab her sword.
“Careful,” I sputtered as Fiver finally crawled off her, “we’ve been here before.”
“Fiver, get something to bind her.”
Fiver nodded and rushed into the bushes, emerging moments later with an armful of thick vines.
He hurried to tie up Farka, but as soon as he grabbed her arm she flipped him over her head. He landed with a thud and a growl, but Farka didn’t try anything more. Av had the blade firmly pressed against her neck.
Fiver wrapped the vines tightly round her chest and arms, wrapping and threading all the way to her wrists.
“How many more of you are there?” Av demanded.
Farka smiled defiantly.
“Tell me!” he barked.
Still Farka said nothing. Lussit took a hesitant step forward and placed her shaking hand on the top of Farka’s head.
“She’s alone,” Lussit said.
“There are many coming,” Farka hissed.
“There aren’t,” Lussit countered. “She’s all alone. She must have been following us since we left the camp.”
Av nodded.
“Wait!” protested Fiver. “How do we know she’s alone for sure?”
Av looked at Lussit, then glared at Farka before he took a long, frustrated breath. “She’s alone.”
“Av!” barked Fiver. “Lussit can’t know that!”
“She’s alone!” said Av, officially ending the conversation.
> I cleared my throat to break the awkward silence. “So what do we do with Farka?”
Av and Fiver said nothing. There was really only one option.
“We take her with us,” said Lussit.
“Excuse me, Holiness,” laughed Fiver. “But there’s definitely a more convenient way to deal with this. Av, kill her.”
Farka began to laugh and Av held the blade to her neck.
“Av, please,” begged Lussit.
“Get up,” he ordered Farka.
With a sour scowl, she got to her feet, arms secure behind her back.
“Move.”
“I don’t believe this,” grumbled Fiver.
Farka took a couple of lazy steps towards Av, then spat in his face before she stumbled back towards the river. Av followed, blade pointed firmly at Farka. Lussit walked beside him, and I looked to Fiver, who stood with his arms crossed, glowering at the sibling pair.
I shrugged and smiled before I fell in line.
“What are you smiling about, Useless?”
I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the fact that we’d dodged death for the third time that night. Maybe it was the defeated scowl on Farka’s face. Or maybe it was because Av had let Lussit have her way. Mostly, though, I think it was because we were closer. We were so much closer to rescuing Cubby; I was so much closer to having him back.
TWELVE
By the time morning light peeked through the treetops, we were deep in the Baublenotts, following the river and hacking through thick vegetation. I was exhausted, but the sound of the thundering water invigorated me. We were getting close to the Falls of the Faithful.
The sound of rushing water didn’t have the same impact on Lussit, and she stumbled a few paces behind us, dark circles forming under her eyes.
“We should rest a minute,” said Av, noticing Lussit at the same time I did.
Normally I would have argued, but I was feeling just as tired as Lussit looked and I knew it was better to face Krepin with a bit of rest behind me.
Fiver grunted his approval and hunkered down against a tree for a quick nap.
“Come on, Lussit,” I called to her. “We’ll rest here.”
Av kept Farka’s blade on Farka, and he escorted her to a seat on a rotting log.
“Here, Urgs,” he said, shoving the sword at me.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He glared at me, still mad that I let Lussit come with us. “Just keep pointing it at her; I’m going to try and rest.”
He was miserable, tired, and in a bad mood. The last few days had been a lot for Av. He’d survived a vicious head injury and poison, and he was now dealing with the fact that he had a sister. And Goobs. He had to be missing his Little Brother, worrying about him alone in the Ikkuma Pit.
I accepted the blade and my hand trembled a bit when I pointed it at Farka. She chuckled bitterly to herself. Av sat down beside Fiver to get in as much sleep as he could for the moment.
“Is it because of me?” asked Lussit. She’d caught up and was standing awkwardly, as though waiting for an invitation to join us.
“What?”
“Did we stop because of me?” She looked so worried, so disappointed in herself.
I shrugged. “I think we’re all pretty tired.”
I yawned—it started off as just for show, but once I thought about yawning, I was yawning for real, my lack of sleep suddenly catching up with me. I leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree and slid to the ground, careful not to take the blade off Farka, who was watching me like a hungry Tunrar.
Lussit came and sat down in front of me, fiddling with a twig between her fingers. I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t.
“You should try to sleep,” I told her.
She nodded and then crawled up to the tree trunk and sat next to me.
“Did that hurt?” she asked, pointing to my right leg.
I lifted my leg into my lap and traced the bubbly scar on my ankle with my finger. “I was a baby, I don’t remember.”
She stared at it a moment, her brow crinkled as she tried to understand. When I looked at it through her eyes, I could see how it would seem like a weird thing to do. But that’s how it had always been in the Pit, how it always would be. And my mark, I kind of liked it. It reminded me of home.
“Did it hurt Cubby?” she asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. The memory was too painful. I remembered his little body squirming in my skinny, tiny arms the night he was welcomed into the A-Frame. When I burned his leg he screamed so loud I was worried his bright red face would explode, but he calmed down quickly while the rest of our Brothers laughed and cheered and congratulated me on having a new Little Brother. I remembered looking at him, so quiet and calm nuzzling my chest, and I felt my eyes getting wet.
My silence didn’t bother Lussit. She accepted my shrug as a satisfactory answer and leaned her head against my shoulder. She was asleep in seconds, her arm linked in mine.
“You’ve bewitched her,” hissed Farka. “Somehow, you little boys have fiddled with her brain, that’s why she trusts you.”
I checked Lussit but she didn’t seem to have heard Farka. She stayed resting on my arm, her perfect round cheeks wearing a sleepy grin.
“You’d better know what you’re doing, Ikkuma boy.”
I glared at Farka, trying to return the same hate and disdain she’d been giving me since we’d met. It didn’t affect her and her lips crept into a satisfied smirk. I didn’t know what I was doing and she knew it.
“Shh. Can you listen?” She looked up to the treetops and I listened. Far away, I could hear the faint sound of Tunrar screaming and howling as the new day dawned. “Many hungry Tunrar wait for you, little boy. Tell me, when the time comes, how will you protect our Sacred Innocent?”
I kept quiet, hoping my grim expression would shut her up. I looked at Lussit, still happily asleep on my arm, and all at once I felt sick. I didn’t know how to protect her from Krepin, or the Tunrar, and I wondered if Av was right. Maybe we shouldn’t have let her come. But without her, I’d have nothing to offer the waiting Aju Krepin.
“Or will you cast her aside when you have what you want?”
The words struck a nerve inside me, and before I could stop myself I said, “You’re one to talk about casting things aside—monster.”
“Monster?” she hissed.
She was offended and I’d done it. My chest swelled with a new confidence and anger. I wanted to hurt her, infuriate her. So I would.
“You’re the stuff of nightmares,” I spat. “Boys wake in the night screaming because they’ve seen one of you when they close their eyes.”
At that, the piercing sting of her glare was gone, replaced by confusion, and I felt the power of our little discussion shift.
“You tell me, Farka. How many baby boys have you thrown away and forgotten?”
Her face softened suddenly; her hard eyes were round and wet and she looked away from me, her sagging shoulders reminding me of all the Potentials. She held it in a different way than Tanuk, but still, it was there, like a stink she tried to cover with all her anger and hardness. I swallowed hard. It was the Guilt.
“That’s what you think we do,” she said quietly, “just…throw you away.”
I shifted in my seat—this was not the reaction I had been going for. I nodded, trying not to seem surprised by her sadness.
“Can’t you see?” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into me. “It is to save you.”
I sat there, stunned and confused, and she shook her head.
“From Ardigund.”
The first Aju.
“What about him?” I asked, careful not to sound too interested.
“Ever since the Beginning rose to power, it has hunted the sons of Belphoebe.”
“Ardigund never found her baby,” I snapped, remembering Lussit’s story. Fiver asked about the baby and she—I watched Lussit sleeping quietly—she never answered him.
�
�He couldn’t,” she said. “We hid you much too well.”
My entire body felt strained, like a pressure was about to take me over and crush all my bones to pulp. “Hid who?”
“You,” she said. “All of you. The Ikkuma Pit is a dangerous place. Barren, hot, no man can survive in its belly. What Aju could believe a baby would survive down there? But the fires of the Ikkuma Pit kept you, all of you.”
Nothing can survive down here but us.
“Since the time of Belphoebe, when she laid her son down on its ashen floor and prayed its fires burn only for him.”
I felt dizzy. Belphoebe’s baby. The First Brother. “Rawley,” I breathed.
Everything went silent—the Baublenotts froze at the mention of his name. All that was left was a ringing, a deafening alarm resonating in my own ears.
“Can’t you see?” said Farka. “The Beginning wants you for its own.”
“Why?” My arm began to tremble and I hoped it wouldn’t wake Lussit. “Why would they want us?”
“Because with you”—her body was leaning forward, her right shoulder dropped as her eyes became wet—“Ardigund believed his powers would be restored.”
“We don’t have any powers.”
Farka’s head tilted as she looked at me. “Rawley was Ardigund’s blood,” she breathed. “The blood of the Belphebans, yes. But also, the blood of the Beginning.”
My heart stopped dead and every hair on my skin stood on end as my own veins suddenly felt like they were pumping tar.
“It is Ikkuma blood,” she told me. “Your blood.”
I tried to think, tried to make my brain refuse to believe it, tried to think of anything but opening up my own skin and letting any trace of the Beginning flow out of my body.
Blaze’s son. Krepin lost him to the falls.
Oh, Cubby.
I closed my eyes tight, digging my knuckles into them, my nose burning and my throat caught on a violent scream. My Cubby. He couldn’t do what Krepin wanted him to do. He was just Cubby. My Cubby. Could Krepin really believe he’d restore Ardigund’s powers?
The Boys of Fire and Ash Page 21