The guards escort me as far as the door of the retribution hut, but refrain from shoving me inside.
“Please, Trattora,” one of them says, gesturing to the open door with a strained expression on his face. “Don’t force us to coerce you.”
I nod and step inside, knowing he’s under as much duress from Parthelon as I am. I grasp the wooden slats and peer through them. “Maybe … you could leave the door unlocked.”
He throws the second guard an uncomfortable look, then shakes his head. “Our families’ lives are at stake. We’ll turn a blind eye to any Cweltan visitors, so long as you don’t cause trouble. That’s the best we can do.”
I sink down on the floor of the retribution hut and bury my head in my hands. There won’t be any visitors. None of my people know I’m here, other than Parthelon and the elders. By the time Buir comes around, I may well be dead. Velkan, Phin, and Ghil will be arrested if they show up here.
My fingers close over the small knife in my pocket. The guards drew the line at searching their former chieftain’s daughter. I set my lips in a resolute grimace. If I get one chance to take out someone with this knife, I know exactly whose heart I will aim it at.
Exhaustion settles in my bones, and I lay down on the floor, using my hands as a pillow, and close my eyes. Maybe if I rest for a few minutes, I’ll figure some way out of this mess …
“Trattora! Can you hear me?”
I sit bolt upright and peer around in the darkness looking for the source of the voice. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from the MicroComm in my ear.
“Ayma! I hear you, go ahead.”
“Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you and Velkan.”
“Our MicroComms must have been out of range. I’m in the retribution hut outside the settlement. One of the elders betrayed me to Parthelon, and he had me arrested.”
“Where are the others?” Ayma asks in a grim tone.
“I’m not sure,” I whisper, hoping my voice doesn’t carry in the night air over to the guards’ hut. “Probably hiding somewhere in the settlement.”
“Velkan’s still not responding to his MicroComm, so he must not be in range,” Ayma says.
My stomach knots. I hope that’s all it is.
“We can’t rule out the possibility that they might have been arrested too.” I inhale a deep breath. “You should leave while you still can.”
For a long moment there’s silence as Ayma weighs my words. As things stand, she’s the only one of us with a real chance of evading capture. She could take the stealth fighter and blaze a trail out of here, live out her days as a fugitive, or even try and make peace with her mother and the Syndicate.
“We live and die as a team,” Ayma says softly. “I’m going to get you out of there, one way or another, and then we’ll find the others.”
A tiny flicker of hope burns in my chest at her words. I don’t know how she’s going to pull it off, but the important thing is that it’s not over yet. I am still alive to fight tonight. If Ayma can get me out of here, I will go to the caves and rally my father’s remaining warriors. We will depose Parthelon and fight the Maulers to the death. I will become a girl of blood and die in glory if that’s what it takes, for my people, and for the memory of Meldus, the faithful guard who so bravely took an arrow for me on Namuto, and my father.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“How many guards are stationed at the retribution hut?”
“Two, they’re in a small guard station about twenty feet from me. They don’t have weapons. The Maulers confiscated everything.”
“They won’t be a problem. I can take them out with a plasma blast,” Ayma says.
“No!” I rub a hand across my brow, repelled by the thought. Whatever blood is shed on my account, it must be justified. “They are my people, they’re acting out Parthelon’s orders under duress. Use a stun gun and incapacitate them instead. The keys to the retribution hut are hanging up in the guard station.”
“I’m on my way,” Ayma says. “Keep trying to reach Velkan.”
I disconnect the link and peer discreetly through the wooden slats in the direction of the guard hut. I don’t see any movement, but the soft murmur of voices drifts toward me through the night air, indicating that both guards are awake. Ayma will need to move swiftly to stun them before they overpower her. I try connecting to Velkan, but to no avail. I’m still worried about his mysterious nosebleeds, which seems almost frivolous now compared to the fear that Parthelon has captured him.
I pace the floor of the hut, mentally cataloguing the all-too-familiar sounds of Cwelt at night as the minutes drag by. Finally, my ears pick up on a soft footfall. I grip the wooden slats and watch, riveted, as Ayma puts a finger to her lips and slips by me. I keep my eyes fixed on the shadowy outline of the guard station as she approaches, hoping they don’t spot her. Seconds later, two distinct thuds reach my ears and Ayma vaults from the station and races toward me.
My heart thunders in my chest as she fumbles with the key in the lock. With a final grunt she twists it, yanks the door open, and embraces me tightly. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say, even though I’m shaking all over. “Did the guards see you?”
“No, they won’t have any idea what happened when they come to.” She hands me a plasma gun from her BodPak. “They’re barely charged, but we might be able to take out a few Maulers along the way.”
“I’m not planning on encountering any, yet, if I can help it,” I say, slipping the gun beneath my robe. “I’m going to the caves. Some of my father’s warriors are rumored to be hiding there. I need to rally their support.”
Ayma gives a grim nod. “I’m coming with you.”
Our pace is frustratingly slow as we skirt around the rocky foothills to the entrance of the underground caves. Ayma is unused to the rough terrain and boulders in our path, and her eyes are not honed like mine by years of night hunting in these very mountains. Several times I detect the subtle swooshing of sand snipers, and we’re forced to detour carefully around their nests, wasting precious minutes. My mind churns with fear for those I love: Buir, drugged and helpless, my mother at the mercy of Parthelon, and Velkan and the others on the run in an unfamiliar environment, or possibly captured.
I force my weary legs to keep pumping until at last the copse that conceals the entrance to the underground caves comes into view. “We’re almost there,” I say, turning back to Ayma with an encouraging smile.
The words shrivel on my lips when a hooded figure steps into the path between us.
22
I draw my gun and take aim.
“Don’t shoot!” The figure yanks the hood from his head.
My lips part in astonishment when I recognize Karad, one of my father’s elders who was with Parthelon when I was arrested.
“Do you know him?” Ayma yells to me, training her weapon on him.
“Yes! I know him.” Rage bubbles up inside me.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” I say, keeping my gun pointed at his head. “Your chieftain isn’t here to protect you this time.”
Karad spreads his palms in a conciliatory gesture. “I was on my way to the retribution hut. I saw you escape with someone.”
“Are you here to arrest me again?” I arch a condescending brow. “After all, you stood by earlier and did nothing to help me.”
He takes a step closer, an urgency in his expression. “You don’t understand what’s at stake. Parthelon will have the Maulers scalp our families if we don’t comply with every order he gives.”
I blink, my grip on my weapon slackening. I suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed from the mouth of one of my father’s elders is jarring, nonetheless. “Why did you come here?” I ask, softening my tone as I take in the large scar running down Karad’s left cheek and the ominous shadows underlining his eyes.
“To offer you my allegiance,” he replies. “Cwelt is divided. Not all the elders side with Parthe
lon, even though they profess to go along with him for the sake of their families.”
A tremor goes through me and I struggle to hold the gun steady. I throw a quick glance at Ayma and she gives a reassuring nod to indicate she has him covered.
Karad’s words are exactly what I wanted to hear from my father’s elders, but doubt and suspicion press in like a heavy bank of cloud. “How do I know I can trust you? Marph betrayed me to Parthelon. Perhaps you are here to do the same.”
“Marph is old and weak, afraid for his ailing wife and pregnant daughter,” Karad replies. “I can tell you which of the elders you can place your faith in. A small group of us have been plotting to depose Parthelon, and now that you have returned, we will gain support from the people. I know it was Parthelon who made the deal with the Maulers and sold us into slavery, not your father.”
I lower my weapon and signal to Ayma to do the same, noting with dismay that the charging light has already turned red on both of them, rendering them useless. “What proof do you have that Parthelon made a deal with the Maulers?” I ask.
“I followed him,” Karad replies. “He set up a meeting with the Mauler overlord before he ousted your father.”
I fall silent for a moment, digesting his words. Parthelon betrayed my father to secure the Maulers’ favor and the few trivial privileges he enjoys—he’s a coward and a traitor, unfit to lead my people. Now, more than ever, they need me. I must have the courage to become who I am destined to be.
“Are you sure the elders will rally behind me?” I ask. “Parthelon did an excellent job over the years of exploiting my shortcomings.”
Karad doesn’t waste time with reassurances. Instead, he ceremonially drapes his shramskin over one shoulder and takes a knee in the dirt before me. “I am here on their behalf. By the sacred triangle, I swear allegiance to Cwelt’s rightful heir.”
A heavy swell of emotions rises in my chest. I cannot doubt his word or the intentions of his heart any longer. I splay my hand on his left shoulder. “I accept your allegiance. We will depose Parthelon, and after we have dealt with him, we will find a way to oust the Maulers from Cwelt.”
Karad gets to his feet, a somber expression on his face. “The Maulers confiscated our weapons. They are heavily armed and bred to kill. How can we hope to defeat them?”
I shoot Ayma a questioning look as I consider how much to tell him. She gives a subtle shake of her head. The stealth fighter is our secret weapon, and best kept under wraps for now. When the time is right, I will gather every Cweltan who is willing to fight, and deploy the stealth fighter to bolster our efforts.
“We are not completely weaponless,” I say. “My father’s warriors kept a secret stash of spears in the underground caves. If we plan carefully, and operate as shadows and ghosts, we can take the Maulers out one-by-one.”
Karad’s eyes widen. “I wasn’t aware of the hidden weapons. Those are welcome words to my ears. But we lost most of our warriors during the invasion. The Maulers burned their bodies and celebrated throughout the night.”
“Rumor has it there are surviving warriors hiding in the caves,” I say.
“Wishful thinking, most likely,” Karad replies. “No one’s been down to the caves since the invasion. We are not free to leave the settlement. I risked my life and the lives of my family by coming after you tonight.”
“Ayma and I will search the caves and find out if there are any survivors.” I furrow my brow. “Do you know where Parthelon is holding my mother?”
“She is being held in the Great Hall until the period of mourning ends, under Marph’s oversight.”
A vortex of anger whirls inside me. “That explains why he betrayed me. He is willing to wed my own mother to that monster Parthelon.”
Karad sighs. “Unforgiveable, to be sure, but Parthelon convinced him it will protect her from any Maulers’ advances.”
I let out a snort of disgust. “Then he is a bigger fool than I thought.”
The look on Karad’s face tells me he agrees with my assessment. He pulls his hood back over his head. “I need to return to the settlement before someone reports me missing.”
“Meet me back here tomorrow night,” I say. “We will finalize a plan once I have a firm count on our weapons and warriors.”
Karad turns and disappears into the shadows.
“Do you think you can trust him?” Ayma asks, coming alongside me.
“He took a knee and swore undying allegiance by the sacred triangle. Karad will die before he betrays me now.” I let my shoulders sag with the weight of that burden. The truth is that Karad may very well face imminent death if Parthelon uncovers his betrayal.
“This way,” I say, leading Ayma into the copse of trees. I select a long, forked stick to take down into the caves with me, and then push aside a large bush that conceals the mouth of a dirt tunnel. I slide my legs over the edge and drop down in the darkness to the dirt floor beneath. A moment later, Ayma joins me with a surprised yelp. “You didn’t tell me it was a six-foot drop to the bottom,” she chides.
I feel around for her arm, and pull her to her feet.
“I can’t see a thing,” she says. “How am I supposed to know where I’m going?”
“You’re not,” I say. “That’s the whole point of the underground caves. Only Cweltans can navigate them. As children, we are taught, blindfolded, to map out the route to our secret living quarters. We have enough food supplies to last for several months and a freshwater stream that runs through the caves providing a constant supply of water.”
“Let’s hope you still remember the way,” Ayma says. “I’ve never traveled by underground tunnel before.”
I chuckle. “It’s a little different to the laser lit LevTransport you’re accustomed to. Get behind me and put one hand on my shoulder. Use your other hand to feel your way along the dirt wall.”
“There’d better not be any slimy insects on it,” she grumbles, taking a tentative step after me. “How long before we reach the caves?”
I hesitate before I answer. If I were on my own, I could reach them in under thirty minutes, but at this pace it could take us hours. “Not long, just keep moving.”
We settle into a steady stride, and I use the time to think through a plan to rescue my mother. I need to act soon, tomorrow at the latest. Once Parthelon finds out I’ve escaped, he will double the guard around her, perhaps even move her to another location. And I still have to find Velkan and the others before Parthelon or the Maulers do. I hope they have the sense to retreat to the stealth fighter. Other than Nalkryie’s house, there’s nowhere else on Cwelt where it’s safe for them to be. I’m lost in my thoughts when a faint whooshing registers in my brain. I freeze, every muscle taut. “Don’t move, Ayma.”
“What is it?” she asks, a note of panic in her voice.
“A sand sniper, directly ahead in our path.”
“Now what are we going to do?” she whispers.
“All you need to do is remain perfectly still so I can hear it.”
“We can’t go past it,” she says. “It might spit or strike out.”
“Not if I catch it first. Stay quiet while I locate it.” I slow my breathing, concentrating on the snake’s presence, remembering everything I’ve been taught. We keep a pit of sand snipers south of the retribution hut, bred for medicinal and execution purposes, and I often help Nalkryie catch them to retrieve their venom. I’ve even caught a few sand snipers free handedly during my hunts on Cwelt, but I can’t take that chance now, no matter how much I trust my instincts. My best strategy is to pin the snake to the ground with the forked stick and smash its head in with my gun. The dangerous part will be pinning it accurately before it strikes.
I point my head in the direction of the swooshing and ready my stick, every nerve in my body tense as I wait. The sand sniper has the distinct advantage in the dark, but I’m confident in my aim. It’s all about timing. I take several shallow breaths in and out, gauging the length and striking distance of the
snake from the whooshing sounds in front of me. Tightening the muscles in my right arm, I lunge and stab the forked stick downward pinning the writhing snake to the ground by its head. Ayma’s scream echoes along the tunnel as I smash the butt of my plasma gun into the snake until I’m sure it’s dead.
“We’re good,” I say, panting from the adrenalin coursing through me.
“How did you see to do that?” Ayma asks in an awed tone.
“Sensing is seeing when you’re desperate,” I reply, distractedly, an idea beginning to percolate in my mind. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”
We march in silence the rest of the way to the caves, the gentle trickling of water the only sound in my ears. I breathe out a silent sigh of relief when I finally see the flickering lights of lanterns up ahead. Behind me, Ayma lets out an admiring gasp when the tunnel widens, opening up into a glittering underground cavern split by a gurgling stream.
“You didn’t tell me it was this beautiful down here,” she whispers.
Several Cweltan warriors converge on us, armed with spears. They stare at me, dumbfounded.
“Trattora!” one of them chokes out. “How … where did you—”
“I’ll explain everything later,” I say, cutting him off. “I have returned to liberate Cwelt and claim my rightful seat as chieftain in the wake of my father’s demise. But I need your backing.”
“You have our full support,” the warrior replies without hesitation. “We do not recognize Parthelon’s claim to the seat of chieftain.”
“Who leads you now?” I ask.
The warrior places two fingers in his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle.
Moments later, a tall figure emerges on the other side of the stream and stares across at us. My heart leaps when I recognize Rutane, one of my father’s personal bodyguards and a fearsome warrior.
Girl of Blood: A Science Fiction Dystopian Novel (The Expulsion Project Book 3) Page 17