Peras held another strip of dried meat toward Peter. “Well?”
Peter took it. “Thanks.” He took a bite off the stick, and Peras moved on. Dried meat again. Wonderful. It wasn’t as if he expected Peras to be able to serve him crumpets and tea in the middle of the ocean, but he’d just expected more from a servant of the Lord of Hosts.
As Peras pulled another meat stick from his bag and extended it toward one of the men on the middle raft, a wave tilted the boat, nearly knocking Peras into the water.
Peras caught himself on the tiller and mumbled a word that, if Peter hadn’t known better, would’ve sounded almost like a curse. Peras tossed the bag to the middle of the raft and sat down like a sulking child.
Something about how he did it was odd to Peter. So human. It made him see Peras in a new light. What did it mean to be a servant of the Lord of Hosts? Peras had said he’d been traveling to the island ever since the talisman had been activated. Peter had been thinking that meant Peras had left, well, wherever servants of the Lord of Hosts lived, and traveled undeterred through any obstacles that came his way in order to reach them, possibly traveling through the cosmos themselves. Which meant he’d been thinking of Peras almost as an angel.
But it all felt wrong now. What kind of angel falls over on a raft? What kind of angel gets mad at people for not getting enough sticks — or for thinking of their sister’s well-being? Would an angel really get embarrassed and curl up in a corner? What would he do next, suck his thumb?
A frightening thought began to form in Peter’s mind. So frightening that he wouldn’t let it come together. Not yet. He packed it down and concentrated on the men lying around the three rafts.
Most of them were already getting sunburned. At least half had fallen asleep after their long night of work, but Orrin and a few others were awake and munching on chewy dried meat.
Fifteen-year-old Mitchell, their youngest crewman, crawled over to Peras’s bag and dug through it. He pulled out three meat sticks. Then he rummaged around inside it some more. He seemed to explore every pocket and fold. Finally he upended the bag over the raft and shook.
Nothing came out.
Peter sat up. What was this?
Trevor, their oldest crewman, slid over to Mitchell and took the bag from him. He shook it and dumped it too, then cast it aside. He and Mitchell — and Peter — cast their eyes around the craft, as if more bags of food might’ve magically appeared just now.
Trevor met Peter’s gaze. He saw the message there: we’ve no more food.
As Peter was deciding whether or not he wanted to risk another choking, Mitchell beat him to it.
“Eh, Peras,” the teenager said.
Peras grunted but didn’t look at them.
“We, well … I was wondering,” Mitchell said, “what we’re going to eat after these three strips are gone.”
Peras swung around and assessed the situation. “You went through my bag?” He stood up meanacingly, his legs spread wide. “How dare you?”
“It’s a fair question,” Trevor said, his voice quivering with age and perhaps something else.
Peras stepped across from his raft to the middle one and reached down as if to pick Mitchell up by the throat. Mitchell fell on his rear and backed away. Peter crawled forward, his hand going to the knife in his belt.
Trevor moved between Peras and Mitchell and raised a bony finger at him. “Leave the boy alone.”
Peras seemed lost in his anger, like an enraged bull determined to charge. But he shook his golden locks and seemed to relax. He straightened his posture. “Careful, old man, or we’ll solve our food shortage real easily.” He picked up the food bag and snatched the three meat sticks from Mitchell. He waved them in front of Trevor. “But I guess all you’d make for us would be more dried meat.”
The whole crew was awake now. Peter looked around to see if anyone else thought Peras had meant they would start eating each other to stay alive. From their looks of concern and anger, it appeared most of them had.
“What about it?” Peras asked, his arms held out as if to take on any challengers. “Anyone else want to challenge the servant of the Lord of Hosts?” He met every man’s stare, one by one, but no one would hold his gaze. Peras scoffed. “I didn’t think so.”
Mitchell seemed close to tears. “But what are we going to do for foo—”
Peras spun around and tossed the last three meat sticks out far across the waves. “For food, I can snap my fingers, and fish will jump out of the ocean and into your laps. Quail will fall from the sky and onto your plates.” He brought his finger into Mitchell’s face, and neither Trevor nor Peter could get there in time. “I’m making the decisions on this voyage, boy. You got that?”
Mitchell whimpered and nodded. Trevor and Peter pulled Mitchell back behind them and stared at Peras defiantly.
“Relax, men,” Peter addressed the group without taking his eyes off Peras. “I’m sure our messenger from the Lord of Hosts has a plan. Don’t you, Peras? We all know you haven’t brought us out here simply to die — or to leave our wounded and our women and children unprotected. Right?”
Though the only sounds were the play of the waves on the rafts and the gentle whoosh of the sea breeze, even those seemed to grow quieter as everyone watched Peras and waited for his answer.
Peras seemed almost unsettled by this display of rebellion. But then his jaw clenched and he looked over them all with anger. “The next one to challenge my leadership will be food for someone. If not for us, then for the fish.”
Peter felt himself thinking that if they all rushed him at once, they could overpower him. But he quickly put the idea away. How could they overpower an angel? Even if he wasn’t an angel, he was as strong as a Gul’nog and nearly as big. It would be a foolish attempt.
Peter saw the men looking around uncertainly. Many of them looked from Peras to Peter, and then away. They weren’t ready to attack either. Maybe they wouldn’t ever be. Peter sank back on his rear, and the moment passed.
Peras sniffed at them with disgust and went back to his raft. The others sat or lay down again. More than one looked out longingly in the direction the last meat sticks had been thrown. Maybe the waves would bring them back to the boat.
The meat stick in Peter’s hand had only a couple of bites taken from it. He was suddenly famished, and it seemed as though he wanted nothing more than a holiday feast of the chewy meat strips. But if this was the last food he was going to get — maybe ever — he had to make it last. He rolled it in a strip of cloth from his garment and stuck it under his belt on the side opposite his knife. He pulled a cluster of vines over his head like a stringy umbrella and tried to go to sleep.
The thought he’d felt rising before, the thought he’d stomped down, broke through and played across his mind like a play on a stage. What if Louisa had been right? In his mind’s eye, he saw her in the cave standing up to Peras while everyone else cheered.
She’d said he would betray them. Peter hadn’t allowed himself to even consider that option, but now that he thought about it, it did seem strange that Peras had “found” them just after the Gul’nog had. And that the Gul’nog had left them alone while Peras was with the survivors, almost as if they were working together, coordinating their actions. Then the Gul’nog had come straight to their hideout without looking. How could they have done that if they hadn’t been led there? And why had Peras, their supposed protector, been gone when the Gul’nog had attacked?
But no! It couldn’t be. Peter looked over at Peras. He stood straight and strong, a master of the sea. Surely that man could not be working with scum like the Gul’nog. Even if he weren’t an angel from the Lord of Hosts, why would a human betray other humans?
Besides, he thought with a zing, there was the thing with the talisman. He and Julia had activated it in secret. No one had seen them do it — except perhaps the shadowy form that had erupted from the volcano far away. Surely only the Lord of Hosts could’ve seen or even known about it.
When Peras had come to their cave — directly to their cave, he recalled — he’d known about the talisman being activated. How could he have found their cave? The Gul’nog hadn’t known where it was exactly. And how could he have known about the talisman if he weren’t from the Lord of Hosts?
It was too much for Peter’s mind to handle without some rest. So with his eyes on the dark shadowy cloud now consuming the morning sun, and with his mind on Louisa and Julia, he tried to go to sleep.
CHAPTER
9
The Gul’nog boss was intimidating even in sleep. Julia dropped the deerskin flap behind her and studied the creature before her.
Even in the near-darkness, she could see that its skin was barely on the brown side of green. Its shoulders and muscles were enormous. Its nose was too wide and poked forward into a rounded point. Rotted teeth peeked out between black lips every time the creature exhaled a snore.
Unlike most of the other Gul’nog she had seen, this one wore bits of armor. A strip of hardened leather with metal spikes draped each hip, and a cruel-looking plate with spikes the length of Julia’s foot was strapped to its right shoulder by a cord of old animal gut. The head and front legs of the rabbit it had brought in here to eat hung off one of these spikes.
It took nearly a minute for Julia to overcome her revulsion and fear of the monster slumbering in front of her. As she gathered her courage, her eyes never left the other item decorating the beast.
The horn.
Its strap wrapped around the Gul’nog’s neck. The horn itself lay under its arm like a little girl sleeping with a baby doll. No, wrong image. Like a wolf sleeping with a chew toy.
The horn seemed to be made of real horn, like from a steer or something. Julia again almost threw up thinking about putting her mouth where this filthy beast’s mouth had been. Still, her whole plan revolved around getting this thing, and she’d risked so much getting this far, so she might as well do it.
She quietly rolled to her feet and crouched before the creature. Then, as if trying to pluck something out of a fire without getting burned, she stretched her right hand toward the cord.
Ew, she thought, but she made herself keep inching forward. Her fingers shook as they came within the Gul’nog’s body space, then under its chin.
As if picking up a dead bug, Julia pinched the cord between her finger and thumb. Gently, she lifted it toward the creature’s ear to pull it over its head. The thing exhaled, and she felt its hot breath and spittle on the back of her hand. She almost bolted out of the hut then and there, but somehow she kept herself where she was. She had to bring her other hand up to help, which meant turning her whole body to face the creature’s head.
You can do this, Julia. You can do this.
She spread her hands apart on the cord, lifting one loop over the horn-blower’s ear and the other over its chin and nose. This was going to work. She was almost there.
Julia kept her eyes on her right hand to be sure the cord didn’t brush the beast’s eyes or forehead. But that meant she wasn’t concentrating as much on the left hand, and the cord rubbed against the scalp of th—
“Hnng!” the Gul’nog grunted.
All of Julia’s plans — to fight, to run, to scream — and all of her bravery flew out the top of her head like a fly off a dead animal. She was going to die! Julia tried to make herself run, but she was paralyzed. Her body didn’t obey her mind, and her mind was going crazy.
But after the thing’s grunt, it didn’t eat her. It didn’t even open its eyes or roar out for the others to come running. Instead, it snorted, smacked its lips, and did the next worst thing beside having her for dinner.
It rolled over. Onto the cord.
Oh … beetle juice!
Julia’s heart pounded so hard it didn’t feel like it was in her chest anymore but was thumping its way up her neck. Every second that passed was another second closer to discovery. How she’d gotten away with this so far was a miracle. Why had she come up with this stupid plan? Why hadn’t Gregory stopped her?
Okay, Julia, calm down. You can still do this.
Right. Julia took a deep breath and moved slowly around the Gul’nog’s feet to the other side.
The horn was actually in a better place now. The thing’s arm wasn’t cradling it anymore. But the cord had gotten tangled around the spikes on the Gul’nog’s shoulder armor. If she had ten minutes and no giant lying on it, she could probably yank it free. But now?
She looked at the remains of the rabbit. Poor thing. That would be her if she didn’t get this horn and get out of here.
An idea struck her. What she needed was a knife. Surely this beast had one on him somewhere. She thought of the weapons rack outside. One of those huge spears would be a bit much, but it would at least have a sharp —
Wait. There on the ground she spotted what looked like a broken ax blade. Whether it had broken off because of being used to hack through too many trees or too many bones, she didn’t know, but it would do.
She sneaked over to the corner of the hut and lifted it from the dirt. Even broken off and only the size of her hand, it was still heavy.
Julia held it over the creature’s head. She had a brief notion to slam the blade into its neck or something. Killing it in its sleep would be what an assassin would do. But knowing her luck, she’d barely break the skin, and it would wake up and bite off her head.
So she went back to the first plan, which was to use the blade to cut the cord.
She knelt at the Gul’nog’s head and licked her lips. This would be delicate work. She couldn’t pull very hard on the cord to cut it, or the other end would pull into the monster’s neck and wake it up.
Carefully, she picked up the cord from where it lay across the shoulder armor. She thought at first to cut it loose from the spikes and then pull the cord out from under the beast. But now that she looked at the situation, she decided the better idea would be just to cut the horn loose from the cord altogether.
She lifted one side of the horn and brought the blade down. Snip.
Goodness, that blade was sharp. She thought she’d have to saw it back and forth, but the cord had severed like a cooked noodle on a fork.
Snip. The horn was free. She held it in her hands as if it were made of solid gold.
No time for that now, though. She tucked it into the folds of her garment and headed for the door.
As she lifted the bottom corner of deerskin and felt the first breeze of “fresh” air on her face, she realized she’d been holding her breath a lot in the hut. Almost free now. Only fifty meters of sleeping Gul’nog and two guards to get past.
She looked over the camp to find the guards. As she did, she realized it had gone strangely dark outside. Was a storm coming? It was still early morning, so how could it be … Oh. The Shadow. The black cloud from the volcano had covered most of the sky, and now it had eaten the sun. She remembered the day of the eruption and how the Shadow had seemed to be not just a cloud of ash and rock but somehow alive. A creature. She shook her head. Louisa wanted to defeat the Shadow. But how can you defeat something that blankets the sky and eats the sun?
She spotted the near guard. It was asleep now, atop the cliff where it had been gazing at the ocean. The dark sky must have helped it feel comfortable enough to drop off to sleep right where it sat. She couldn’t be sure about the other guard. She thought she saw its head and shoulders off beyond one of the smoldering bonfires, but if so, it wasn’t patrolling anymore either. That was good news for her.
With a quick prayer to the Lord of Hosts, she cupped the ax blade in her hand and crawled through the deerskin and behind the weapons rack.
From here, she could see the trees where she hoped Gregory was still waiting. She even gave a little wave to let him know she was okay. Now to get over there.
Slowly, she crawled back toward the woodpile where she’d first hidden. The goo piles and decaying carcasses were still there, but something about the darker sky made them seem less awful.
Slightly less awful. The flies seemed fewer as well.
A light caught her eye. At first, her mind told her it was just the embers of a bonfire, but something had been different. She scanned the camp in the direction she’d seen the light. Hadn’t it been … blue?
There! Another thirty meters away, not toward either guard but not toward Gregory either, she saw the blue flash again. A pile of stones as tall as a dog sat in a small clearing surrounded by at least eight sleeping Gul’nog.
That blue light … it couldn’t be.
But of course it could be. These Gul’nog had stolen it from her very hands, hadn’t they? At the thought of that night, her head wound throbbed again, though it was mostly healed.
The talisman. Could it be here?
Now that she thought about it, she was surprised it hadn’t been in the boss’s hut. Or maybe it was there and she’d missed it, and this light was just something else.
The idea of going back into that hut was too much. She couldn’t put herself through that again. As she sat there thinking, she felt how exposed she was. If Gregory were watching her, he’d be beside himself with worry wondering why she was just sitting there.
She looked closely at the light. There was no denying that something was there, buried under the stones. And wouldn’t it make sense that they would bury it under rocks and surround it by guards?
With the realization that she was probably going to regret it, Julia started off toward the blue light.
After ten meters of crawling, with the ax blade chafing her wrist and the horn about to fall out of her clothes, Julia decided to risk standing up to a crouch. She immediately felt better and moved faster. More stealthily too. And without the bright sunlight, she didn’t even have to worry about her shadow passing over a Gul’nog’s face and waking it up.
In fifty steps she was at the ring of sleeping Gul’nog that surrounded the pile of rocks. The one closest to her was the fattest Gul’nog she’d ever seen. She’d need a running start to jump over that one. So she moved to the next. How they managed to have the discipline to form an unbroken circle and to maintain it even in sleep was beyond her. Maybe they knew what would happen to them if they didn’t.
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