by Morgan Rice
Anka went as quickly as she could. She took out records, trying to make sense of the crabbed writing there as she scanned them for any glimpse of Sartes’s name. If she could get some sense of where he was in the camp, that would be the best possible outcome, but even confirmation that he was really here and still alive would be enough.
She froze as she heard the sound of footsteps outside the tent, then quickly shoved the rolls back into place. She finished, grabbed her bundle of washing, and just about made it to the door when an officer walked in.
“Watch where you’re going!” the officer bellowed, then paused. His hand shot out to grip Anka’s shoulder. “Wait, what are you even doing here? Old Mersha handles my washing.”
Anka didn’t have to feign the shudder that ran through her. “I don’t know, my lord. She sent me out, and I… I thought this was where I was meant to be.” She grabbed for one of the names she’d seen on the papers she’d looked through. “I was looking for Captain Thero’s tent?”
“Well, you’re on the wrong side of the camp, then,” the officer said. “He keeps his tent in the north quadrant. Don’t you know anything?”
“I… I’m new, my lord,” Anka said. Again, she didn’t have to fake the fear. If this man guessed what she was really doing there, she would never leave the camp. “The north quadrant, you say?”
The officer waved a hand. “That way, you stupid girl. Now hurry. Captain Thero isn’t a man to keep waiting.”
Anka hurried from the tent with what she hoped was the right level of gratitude, setting off in the direction the officer had indicated but then quickly veering off in case he worked out that she wasn’t all she seemed. She took deep breaths as she tried to think.
She hadn’t gotten anything from the records. Sartes’s name hadn’t been anywhere in the ones she’d looked through, and there seemed to be no obvious way to find him without that kind of clue where he might be. Anka didn’t even know for sure if he was in this camp. Everything she’d gotten from her contacts had been supposition and fragments.
The truth was that no one kept track of where individual conscripts went. The army didn’t care about them enough for that, and just that fact was enough to make Anka angry. What kind of world did they live in where no one cared what happened to one boy, because he would probably be dead soon anyway?
Even if she hadn’t promised Ceres to find her brother, that would have been enough to make Anka keep going. How long could she keep going though? she wondered. Could she really justify looking for one boy forever when the rebellion could save many more young men and women? She didn’t even really know what Sartes looked like.
That thought brought despair with it, and Anka started to make her way through the tents toward the edge of the encampment. Anka had tried to tell herself that this was an easier task than trying to overthrow a whole empire, but the truth was that it was almost impossible.
In spite of her promise to Ceres, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about going home then. The rebellion needed her, and if she couldn’t find Sartes here, then all she could do was get herself captured or killed. The thought of having to give up ate at her, but Anka couldn’t think what else she could do. To put off the moment when she would have to make a decision, she circled back toward the command tents. Perhaps she would be able to make one more attempt to look through the army’s records, although if they caught her this time…
She waited by the pavilions and marquees belonging to the army’s officers, staying in the shadows and looking for an opportunity to sneak inside. She waited, trying to make it look as though she was working on something in her bundle of washing, and that was when she heard the name she’d been hoping for since she got there.
“Sergeant, I have messages I need carrying across camp. What happened to that conscript of yours?”
Anka peeked around the tent to see an officer in gilded armor talking with a burly man who was obviously of a lower rank.
“Sartes, sir?”
“How should I remember the boy’s name? The one who has been so useful. Just get him.”
“Yes sir.”
Anka watched the whole exchange with her heart in her mouth. When the sergeant set off, she followed him, using all the caution she’d learned in Delos. It was safer doing this than waiting around the command tents, because at least she could pretend to be on an errand again.
She followed until the sergeant reached a training ring where conscripts were working on their swordplay. Already, two had deep-looking wounds, because the sharp weapons they were using had no room for mistakes. She saw the sergeant pause on the edge of the training ring.
“Sartes! Get yourself out here!”
Anka looked at the boy who disengaged himself from the melee. He had sandy hair and a wiry frame made thinner by the harshness of the army. At first glance, it was hard to see the resemblance between him and Ceres, yet there was a hint of similarity there, and this was definitely him.
“The officers have work for you, boy,” the sergeant said. “Get over to the commander’s tent before they have you whipped!”
Anka saw the boy take off at a dead run. She hated to see that fear there, but another emotion rose beside it: hope. She’d done what she promised. She’d found Sartes.
But now she needed to find a way to save him—before the army killed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
If they kept drifting out to sea like this, Ceres felt, they would die. Ceres was certain of it. Either the sun would bake them, or predators would come for them, realizing that Ceres no longer had the strength to fight them off.
The small boat had a piece of driftwood they could use as a makeshift paddle, but there seemed to be nowhere to paddle to. Instead, they bobbed along like some child’s toy, at the mercy of the wind and the currents.
Ceres’s lips cracked with thirst as they floated. She barely had the strength to lift her head and look out over the expanse of the water that stretched to the horizon in every direction.
She heard Eike moan beside her. The girl was barely conscious now, because despite the water all around them, there was none that they could risk drinking. Eike hadn’t believed Ceres when she’d warned her about it, and had quickly thrown up the salt water. Ceres shook her, and her eyes barely flickered open.
Ceres looked around again, seeing the seabirds above that followed them, obviously waiting for the moment when they would finally succumb. One came close, and Ceres waved it away.
That was when she saw the island.
It appeared as a speck on the horizon at first, small enough that Ceres wasn’t even certain that it was there.
As the currents carried their boat toward it though, she saw the sandy beaches and rocky rises there, leading to what looked like jungles on the interior.
And for the first time, her heart filled with hope.
*
Ceres paddled for shore with their rough wooden oar for what felt like hours. She ignored the way her muscles protested at the sudden effort after drifting for so long, keeping going until they were passing by tooth-like rocks, then on into the breakers leading to a beach.
Ceres leapt out, pulling the boat up onto the sand with Eike still in it. She lifted the girl up, helping her out and then supporting her as they set off along the beach in search of fresh water.
She didn’t know what was going to happen next. She wasn’t sure where they were, or what would happen to them in the next few days. She wasn’t sure if she would ever see home again, and that thought was a frightening one. Right then, Ceres was just grateful to be alive.
Ceres felt the eyes on her long before anyone stepped out of the surrounding jungle. She watched the fronds near the edge, seeing some rustle in a way that might have just been the wind.
People emerged, dressed in plain tunics and dresses, supplemented by what looked like leaves and branches from the forest. Some seemed to have flowers tangled in their hair, while others wore vines wrapped around them like jewelry.
Ceres stood there cautiously. She wasn’t sure how these people would react to strangers, or what was going to happen next.
It was only as they got closer that Ceres saw they weren’t wearing costumes after all. Instead, she saw vines and twigs emerging from flesh, skin that had given way to the roughness of bark or the green of leaves.
Two came forward with bowls of water, and Ceres took one gratefully, before helping Eike to sip at hers. The girl seemed to regain some strength with the liquid, rousing enough to look around. Ceres saw her start at the sight of the people around them.
“What are they?” Eike asked.
“We are the folk of the forest,” a voice said, and Ceres saw a man step forward from the crowd of people. “Welcome.”
He was tall and slender, probably only a few years older than Ceres was, with skin that seemed to vary between delicately tanned and mossy green where it wasn’t covered by a tunic. He wasn’t broad across the shoulders, but Ceres could see the muscles that stood out as he moved. He had strong features, with high cheekbones and a smile that seemed to come easily. His hair was dark, cut through here and there with a tangle of flowering vines, while his eyes were such a vibrant green that Ceres couldn’t bring herself to look away from him.
He seemed to be looking back at her with the same intensity.
“I’m Ceres,” she said.
“I am Eoin,” he replied.
“You’re in charge here?” Ceres asked.
Eoin smiled. “People sometimes listen to me, but the truth is that all of us with the sickness follow the way of the forest.”
“Sickness?” Ceres heard Eike ask. “You’re sick?”
Eoin spread his hands. “They call it a sickness, or a curse. They send us here because they don’t want us around them. We live out our time here, until the forest claims us. But you don’t have to worry.”
He held out a hand to Eike, and to Ceres’s surprise, the girl took it.
“We’ll go back to the village and talk more there,” he said. Ceres saw him look over to her again. “I think there is a lot to talk about. The ocean has brought you to us for a reason.”
They set off in the direction of the jungle, and Ceres followed Eoin along a trail where the trees arched over them as though forming a tunnel. She glanced up and saw a bird flit from one branch to another, and impossibly, it seemed to glow with golden light as it did so. She turned to point it out to Eike, but the girl was already staring at another part of the forest.
Ceres followed her gaze and froze in place. A horse of the purest white stood there, a horn of gold jutting from its forehead as it reared up. Ceres’s breath caught at the sight. A unicorn? But they were only meant to be myths.
Eoin seemed to understand her amazement. “The creatures of magic still have places where they gather,” he said. “The jungle is one of them. It isn’t far now to the settlement.”
They kept going, and Ceres saw the jungle open out. There were houses there, but it took her a moment to realize that they were houses, because they seemed more like giant plants, grown into their shapes rather than constructed. She saw huts and treehouses, buildings that were more like simple platforms in the branches. The only stone building she could see was a kind of ziggurat at the center of it all, and that looked as though it might have been there long before the rest of it.
There were plants there, and animals that seemed impossible. A lizard flew past Ceres’s head on butterfly wings, while further over, she saw a beetle the size of a small dog. She saw trees too, warped and twisted until they almost seemed like strange sculptures of people.
“Those are the ones the curse has claimed,” Eoin said.
“You mean those are people?” Eike said. Ceres could hear the horror in her voice. She could feel some of it herself.
“They were,” Eoin said. “Eventually, the curse takes all of us, and we go back to the forest. It can’t be stopped. All we can do is live our lives until then.”
“That’s terrible,” Ceres said.
Eoin shrugged. “It is not so bad. It is beautiful here, and we have enough.”
He led the way to a hut, where there was food waiting: fruit and tubers taken from the jungle. Ceres and Eike ate hungrily, while Eoin and the others joined them.
“How did you come to be here?” Eoin asked.
“It’s a long story,” Ceres said.
Eoin smiled. “There should always be time for stories, and we would like to hear.”
Ceres did her best to explain it. She told them about what was happening in the Empire, and how she’d come to fight in the Stade. She told them about her last fight, and how she’d ended up condemned to the Isle of Prisoners.
All the while, Eoin’s eyes stayed on her. It felt as though he could see right through her, looking past the surface to something else underneath. Ceres wasn’t sure what it was that he could see, but right then, she’d never felt that vulnerable with anyone.
“You’re a warrior?” he asked. “Perhaps that explains some of why you were sent to us.”
“What do you mean?” Ceres asked.
Eoin stood, offering his hand. “Come with me. I promise that your friend will be safe here.”
Ceres believed him. She’d never seen anywhere that seemed as peaceful as this hidden village. It just seemed natural to reach out and take his hand, feeling the strength there.
She let him lead her out and through the village, to a space on the far side of the ziggurat that had been cleared in a wide circle. There, she could see two young women fighting, surrounded by a small knot of villagers.
The two held no weapons, but they didn’t seem to need them. Ceres could barely keep up as they blurred and spun, their hands and feet lashing out from every angle. They dodged and leapt, then came together as they tried to lock one another’s limbs and throw each other to the ground. When they tumbled there together, they kept fighting, until Ceres saw one slip behind the other as quickly as a snake, her arm locking around her opponent’s throat. The two got up, laughing, and began again.
It was like the training she’d done for the Stade, and yet totally unlike it. The fighting there had been brutal and efficient, while there was something beautiful about this, something that seemed to Ceres to be perfectly in balance.
“It’s amazing,” she said. “To be able to fight that well without weapons.”
“They simply move in harmony with the world,” Eoin replied. “As for weapons, we have them, but we have little need for them.”
He reached around to his back, producing a dagger that seemed to be made from dark, glassy stone. He passed it to her. Ceres tested the edge, and to her surprise, it was as sharp as any steel.
“For you,” he said. “You have been sent here for a reason, Ceres. I’m sure of that. I don’t know what that reason is, but we will teach you what we can of our ways. If you want, that is.”
Her answer was obvious.
“I want to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
As he went down to the castle’s gardens, Thanos found himself looking around suspiciously. The pressure of what he was doing weighed down on him now, and he found himself looking for a spot where he could just be himself for a moment without risking his life.
Everywhere else in the castle, it seemed that he had to hide what he felt and who he was. If anyone saw his anger over what had happened to Ceres, if anyone saw through the act he’d put up to his sympathies for the rebels, then he would be dead, noble of the Empire or not.
They would call him a traitor, when the truth was that they were the ones betraying the interests of their own people. They were the ones taking from their people, and Thanos had heard how much worse it had gotten since he’d left. He’d heard about the parties under Lucious’s command, ravaging the countryside. Just the thought of it made him grit his teeth in anger.
He needed to find a way to stay calm, so he stood out there and looked at the blooms, imagining how Ceres might react if she were here. Wou
ld she appreciate the gentle beauty of the flowers, or would she want to be in the training pits for the Stade? Thanos smiled at the fact that he had an easier time imagining her there than here.
The smile faded as he thought about what was happening to her now. He had to find a way to help her if he could, but Thanos wasn’t sure what he could do to stop Ceres being taken to the Isle of Prisoners. He couldn’t just overturn the king’s decision, and if he tried, he would immediately be suspect. He could try to get a message to the rebellion, perhaps, but-
“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”
Thanos turned to see Stephania approaching. She looked lovely in the night air, but then, she always looked lovely. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. The suddenness of it caught Thanos a little by surprise, and so did the action itself. He’d always thought Stephania was too proper and reserved for such a show of emotion.
“I’m so glad that you’re safe,” Stephania said as she stepped back. “When I heard that you’d been killed…”
Thanos heard the catch there in her voice, and saw the faint gleam in her eyes that suggested she might be trying to hold back tears.
“It’s all right,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm as he tried to comfort her.
“It is now,” Stephania said. “Because you’re alive. Did you really survive because some fishermen found you?”
Thanos nodded. Even with Stephania, he couldn’t afford to tell the truth. Maybe especially with Stephania, because it would never occur to her to keep from saying what she knew around the court. She’d always been the heart of the gossip there.
Bizarrely though, it felt wrong to be deceiving her like this.
“The fishermen saved me,” Thanos said. It was true, as far as it went. Without the two men who’d found him, he would never have met Akila’s rebels. “They brought me back.”