by Lani Lenore
“You thought you were made of stronger stuff, didn’t you?” he asked, grinning wickedly. “Let’s see what you’re really made of.”
2
The door of the ship’s cabin opened with an aching whine. Heavy footsteps fell upon the wet planks, leading all faces to turn, and all those who saw him turned white in fear. The man that emerged – the legend that they all dreaded – came forward from the lower deck, and there was not an eye that wasn’t caught on him.
Beyond tendrils of black hair, the dark man known as the Scourge looked around at the fear that he saw on their faces. He relished in it.
“All of you, you thieving lot, are not worthy enough for my world,” he said, looking around at them. “Still, I suppose I must give you some credit. Stealing from me takes guts, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t show them to you shortly. But, since you’re here, I might as well make use of you. It comes to my attention that you need a new captain.”
He dropped something onto the deck that had been hidden within his hand, and he waited for them all to realize that it was the bloody heart of the man who had led them here, fresh and warm.
He heard the short breaths they drew in, none louder than the rest because each was afraid of directing more attention to himself. The Scourge didn’t have much interest in these men, but he saw that he could still make use of them.
“Since you have come onto my ship, I assume that means you’re intent on becoming my crew,” he said leadingly. As he spoke, he drew out a sword from his belt – he had another still in its sheath – letting them all see the way it gleamed as he cut his eye at them. “Do any of you want to oppose this?”
He stepped nearer to a cluster of them who were already dangerously close, focusing on one in particular. He was a balding man, slightly overweight with a scrappy beard. There was no hint of youth left in him, but the Scourge did not focus on him because he was special in some way. He was simply the one that his eye fell on first, and he did not wish to break his stare.
The man sputtered a bit before he dared to speak up.
“We were seeing how the ship might be repaired, captain,” said the man, acknowledging his new leader with a quiver in his voice.
“A worthy task,” the Scourge agreed. “What is your assessment?”
“It will take some doing, but she is not beyond repair. Should we make preparations to set sail?”
The Scourge was pleased that this man was properly humbled and agreeable, but he expected no less. Since none of them spoke against it, he took it that this man spoke for the rest of them as well.
“Not yet,” the Scourge said. “We have business inland first. I have to start before he’s ready – so he’ll know I’m done with his games.”
“Sir?”
The Scourge looked up with a leering grin, his teeth bloody. “We’ve got some lives to burn.”
Some of them laughed nervously. He guessed that not all of them were the black-blooded sort he was used to dealing with, but he didn’t care what they were made of. There were others looking for him; he knew this. He would reunite with his followers soon.
He stepped toward the edge of the ship, turning his back on them but not fearing that any would oppose him. Some of the more bloodthirsty vagrants among them began to rally, and then fell in line behind him without trouble. Others probably thought of slipping away at this opportunity, but that was not a concern of his.
If they were with him, he would tolerate them. If they were against him, they would be dead eventually. He would gather what number he could at Bleed Neck Bay and then he would be ready.
Oh yes. He would be ready for another war.
He imagined the one that he loathed dying with his fingers wrapped around his neck. The boy would dangle there, pissing himself in fear, and that brought a smile to the Scourge’s pale face.
Pathetic boy. He thinks he’s smart – that he knows all there is to know.
The Scourge had been away for a while, but it had been time well-spent. He’d reached a revelation out there in the dark, and now he knew what he had to do. It was time to put what he had learned into action and do away with his enemy once and for all.
Rifter – thorn in my side, sword in my eye – the day is coming. You know as well as I do that this world wasn’t meant for both of us. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of it once you’re gone.
With that on his mind – though the thought of killing his enemy never did leave his head – the Scourge left the ship as the diminutive mist of rain continued to fall on him. He walked steadily as any man, one foot before the other, but everywhere he stepped, the land died.
Chapter Twenty-Three
1
When the dawn came on the next morning, the forest floor was marshy and wet. The trees were still dripping, but the world had survived the storm.
In the underground den, Nix was the first to wake up, yet he was surprised that he’d slept at all. The storm must have calmed enough that he’d drifted away.
But it wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for her.
Despite what he had said about the girl, she had proven her worth last night. He didn’t know how she had done it and he didn’t care, but if she was able to put Rifter at ease when no one else could, then Nix would have to admit that she wasn’t completely useless.
Doesn’t mean I have to pet her though.
He rose up without waking the others, who were sleeping all over the den, deciding to go on his own to survey the damage that the storm had done. They might have a long day of work ahead of them, and none would be pleased to hear that.
He left down the tunnel and emerged through the cave mouth, but stopped immediately on the other side when he saw a figure standing there.
Rifter was staring off through the trees, caught in a trance, unmoving. His shadow mimic was stretched out just the same, woven across the dewy blades of grass. Nix gave no attention to the fact that he was naked. That was nothing to them.
“Rifter? What is it?”
His brother snapped out of his daze and turned his face toward Nix. He looked haggard and worn, his eyes reddened from lack of sleep. How long had he been standing out here? Nix had thought he was still in his room with the girl.
Rifter parted his chapped lips.
“He’s back,” he said darkly. “I can feel it.”
Nix knew what that meant. He didn’t need an explanation. The hairs on the back of Rifter’s neck were already standing up, and his shoulders were tensed and ready, but aside from any concern this might have brought on, there was an undeniable layer of excitement beneath. Though Rifter was disturbed and agitated, a smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth which promised he looked forward to a confrontation as much as he dreaded one.
After an absence, his enemy had returned, and Rifter was hungry for his blood.
Was the world ready for this again? Nix never knew the answer to that, but he gave a short nod. He already knew his part in all this, and he would see it through as he always did.
“I’ll wake the others,” he agreed.
2
Wren woke up in Rifter’s bed, but she was alone. She couldn’t quite say why, but that disturbed her. Perhaps it was for the voices she could hear drifting to her from within the tunnel, echoing and distorting before they got to her ears.
It was not difficult to tell that they weren’t voices of contented chatting. They were serious in tone and had an urgency that she couldn’t mistake.
What are they up to? What’s happened?
She rubbed her eyes, hoping to trick herself into waking up, but all she could do was yawn into her hand and think of falling back over onto the bed of feathers and leaves. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, stretching her neck, but she froze when she noticed something there.
Her brow furrowed as she looked upward, surprised to see that there was a bit of writing etched in the stone. Words were inscribed precariously, jumbled, but in the center of it all, there were larger words, traced over so man
y times that they were deeply imprinted.
Remember, oh child; do not forget
When storms roll in and darkness sets,
Though truth be heavy, keep it still
As fire will burn and swords will kill,
What happens once comes ‘round again.
As it began, so shall it end.
Had Rifter written this? Where had this rhyme come from? Wren couldn’t say, but she knew she had never heard it before. Perhaps the boy had made it up.
She turned her attention to the other words scattered around, over the ceiling and walls. Most of them didn’t mean anything to her, but she recognized a few because she had seen them before.
They’re names. At least, some of them were. She recognized them from the cave wall where the boys had recorded the names of the fallen.
He hasn’t forgotten after all! He wrote them down!
Maybe there was hope for him yet. He hadn’t forgotten the ones who had died. He’d just chosen to keep them in his own way.
She was happy to see that and pulled herself up immediately to go find him. In the midst of that, however, she had forgotten something. She didn’t remember the voices until she’d come out into the tunnel, and she hesitated when she once again heard the tone of the conversation.
It may have been none of her business – and probably wasn’t – but she had to go see what the trouble was.
Wren did not find the boys in the den. They were in the room where the Pack had first retreated from her when they’d brought her here – the room where they’d held their council. If they had hoped that a simple cloth across the doorway would keep their voices from her as she drew closer, they were mistaken.
“We can’t just go look for him,” Sly said calmly. “We need to wait – make plans.”
“Yeah, mate, we just need to stay put for now,” Finn agreed.
When Wren peeked inside, she saw the group of them huddled there together – Henry included. They were standing around the pillar in the middle of the room which had the large, vicious skull on top of it. They were taking turns putting their hands on it to speak.
It was clear that the discussion was heated, but this time, it was not Nix who was arguing with Rifter. He was standing aside quietly, listening as a few of the others tried to reason with their leader.
“What am I supposed to do?” Rifter asked them, pacing in his leaf coat. “Just wait around until he starts blowing holes in the world? You know that’s the first thing he’ll do.”
“He might not,” Mach tried.
“After last time? Yeah, he will,” Mech assured him.
“I can’t believe he even came back,” Rifter muttered angrily. “I thought I made it clear. This is my world. He has no place here.”
“What’s going on?” Wren dared to ask, breaking in.
The way they all looked at her made her want to crawl back into her corner and hide. Their glares promised that she was not welcome in their conversation, and for the first time in so many days, she felt that they had turned against her.
None of them spoke, and finally Rifter took a deep breath.
“Would you give us a few minutes?” he asked. She found she couldn’t do anything except agree.
She backed out and went to her own room where Max was sitting on the floor, busily playing with a wooden man that one of the others had made for him. He did not take notice of her distress, but she was glad, at least, that her room had not been ruined or flooded in the night, even if she could not give proper focus to it now.
She sat down on her bed quietly, but as she mulled over what had just happened, she began to feel insulted. Hadn’t she taken the Vow like the rest of them? Shouldn’t she have been included? Given the right to know what was going on?
Wren crossed her arms and pinched her lips together. The longer she sat there, the angrier she became. It was true that she didn’t fight alongside them, but there was no reason she should have been kept in the dark just because she was a girl. Perhaps she was physically weak, but she wasn’t that fragile.
When someone finally came back for her, it was not Rifter. It was Finn. Unfortunately for him, she had been ready to lay into whoever she laid eyes on first.
“What was that about? I thought I was one of you now,” she accused.
“Some things are, well, they’re sensitive,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Wren nodded, even though she wished that Rifter had come to talk to her instead. She would rather hear it from him, and there were other things she wanted to talk to him about – the poem and the names, more about last night. That would have to wait.
Finn came inside, leaning back against the table there, but didn’t say anything else. He watched Max for a bit, staring absently until she called for his attention.
“Are you going to tell me?” she asked after he had hesitated for a long time.
“Do you remember what we talked about that day?” he asked. “About, you know, him.”
Wren tried to think. It seemed like a long time ago, but she did remember having a serious conversation with them the day that they had walked through the snow. They had told her about the others – showed her the wall in the cave that was homage to them. They had told her about—
The Scourge.
“You mean—”
Finn held up his hand, stopping her before she said it. She closed her mouth and waited for the rest.
“Rifter’s certain that he’s back.”
The same question came to her mind that she’d had before, the first time they had mentioned this Scourge to her.
“Where had he gone?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Finn assured her, and she knew she was seeing a different side of him than what she was usually exposed to. He was serious now, very careful. “Listen, Wren, there’s something you should know. When he comes around, Rifter gets a little, well, different.”
“Different how?”
He wouldn’t answer her directly – or perhaps he couldn’t. “It does something to him. Just try to bear through it, and with any luck, it will all be over soon.”
What would be over? The way she had heard them talking, Rifter was urging them to arrange some kind of attack.
“So, they fight each other. They’re enemies.” She knew that much. “What started it?”
“That’s just one of those questions, isn’t it?” Finn said with a nervous laugh. “All I know is that it’s been going on for as long as I can remember. They fight, the Scourge retreats after a while, and then later, he comes back. He always comes back.”
“Finn! Where are you?” One of them was calling for him, and he jumped up immediately to go as if he’d been shocked.
“Just between us, right?” he reminded her, and at that, he darted back out into the tunnel.
The Scourge was back, and they were going to make her sit here like this? No. Wren was not about to stay put. The least they could do was let her listen. She needed to understand it, whether they wanted to accommodate her or not, and she would not take no for an answer.
3
“There’s a fire out there alright,” Sly said, his eye to the scope. “But I can’t tell what’s burning.”
They were all standing outside when Wren emerged, staring at a pillar of thick smoke billowing in the distance.
“Maybe one of the natives’ camps?” Nix suggested.
“The pirates wouldn’t attack them. They know better,” Mach said. “Besides, the Tribals have nothing they want.”
“Well maybe they’re trying a new tactic – with Scourge back at the helm.”
That seemed to put a fire in Rifter’s belly. He was clearly agitated, moving around and unable to be still.
“We can’t let this happen. He can’t think he can get away with this!”
“Maybe it’s not the Scourge at all, Rifter,” Finn tried to reason. “Maybe the natives have a bonfire or something.”
“First thing in the morning?” Sly asked rhetorically. “Not
likely.”
“No,” Rifter said firmly. “It’s him. I know it is. I feel him; I smell him! He’s here!”
“So we’re just going to run in there and attack?” Finn asked. “Remember, the Tribals don’t like us as much as the pirates don’t.”
“It’s a long way,” Toss commented. “We don’t have Whisper anymore. On foot, we wouldn’t get there before it was over.”
Rifter didn’t like these excuses.
“Do you want me to fly out and see alone, or are you going to come with me?” he asked them pointedly.
They all looked at him as if the answer should have been clear, and they were insulted that it wasn’t.
“You say we go, so we go,” Nix said. Though he must have known that the others were stating the truth, at the end of the day, Nix did know where his loyalty was. Wren was amazed at that, surprised he didn’t have a separate opinion to share.
Nix looked over at Henry, who was standing there as resilient as any zealous new soldier.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked the younger boy.
“Yes,” Henry agreed, nodding furiously. “I’m ready to fight.”
Wren wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that, but she found that she couldn’t protest. He’d been training and hunting, and he had cast his lot in with the other boys. He made his own decisions now.
She directed her gaze back toward Rifter, who had already forgotten them all, staring off through the trees. She wanted to speak to him but he seemed so far away in that moment that she didn’t dare.
When he comes around, Rifter gets a little different… Finn had said that to her, and she could already see it. Rifter was standing right there, and yet he was miles away. She didn’t like it – not at all.
Someone touched her arm, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“Stay here and keep underground,” Finn told her. “Don’t come out for any reason. It might be a long time before we get back, but you’ll be fine.”
Perhaps it was owing to the anger that was growing inside her, but she made a quick and irrational decision.