Threading the Needle

by Joshua Palmatier

  “We don’t know enough yet. I don’t want to give away the caves’ location.”

  A few of Bryce’s chosen betas raced up, Bryce giving them orders. Cory hung back, feeling out of place, wondering where Hernande was, as well as the other Wielders and University survivors like Sovaan and Jerrain. Someone should warn them. They might not wield weapons, but maybe they could help in the defense in other ways.

  He was about to slip away when Bryce glanced up. “Cory, come with me.”

  The Dog headed toward the patch of forest between the refugee camp and the center of the Hollow. Cory hustled after the Dogs’ leader.

  More men joined them, calling out orders in gruff voices. The refugee camp was waking up around them, the unusual movement too loud even with everyone trying to remain silent. Cory saw Sovaan crawl from a tent; he’d obviously dressed hastily. Cory tried to catch the University mentor’s attention, but they passed by too quickly.

  By the time they reached the edge of camp, Bryce was trailed by nearly forty men, others still fighting to get into their gear. A small crowd of the rest of the refugees had gathered behind them. Some were calling out questions, unease and panic growing.

  Just before he stepped into the woods, Jerrain snagged Cory’s arm.

  “What’s going on?”

  Cory shot a look toward Bryce, but the alpha was already lost in the trees.

  He grabbed Jerrain’s thin shoulders. “We ran into the bandits during one of our patrols. Now Joss is missing. Bryce thinks the bandits have captured him and may be on their way here.” The last of the armed men were entering the forest. “Get Hernande. Tell him to find me at the Hollow.”

  Jerrain harrumphed, but Cory stepped backward. “Get Hernande!” Then he entered the woods at a trot—fast enough to catch up to Bryce before he noticed Cory was gone.

  He came out behind Logan’s cabin, where the healer stood in his front doorway watching the growing crowd of men in the center of town. Claye stood beside him, one hand clutching his wounded side, the other holding a crutch tucked into his armpit. Bryce was calling out orders, men and women breaking away in pairs or groups of three, heading out toward the inner boundary of the village, one that Bryce had established after the initial attack. Nothing more than a series of stone walls the Hollowers had set up long before the Shattering, the defenses could be overrun easily with enough men. They hadn’t had enough time to build them up into anything better.

  Cory edged through the throng of men and women until he was close to Bryce. Sophia and Paul stood behind the alpha, looking concerned. Only then did Cory notice that many of the Hollowers had joined them, the farmers and herders mixed in with the Dogs and the other refugees.

  “Braddon, take your men to the inner perimeter, northeast corner. Alex, your group’s got the post west of Braddon. I’ve already sent Reiss and the others to the outer perimeter there, since that’s the most likely direction the bandits will come from. The rest of you, split into groups of five and spread yourself around the perimeter. Concentrate on the northeastern corner, but make certain there are people on all sides, that you’re not spaced too far apart.”

  People began moving, conversations breaking out as they began dividing up as directed, until someone shouted over the increasing activity, “What about our families?”

  Nearly everyone halted, looking back at Bryce, the concern they’d been suppressing stark on their faces.

  Bryce hesitated, drew breath to answer—

  But Sophia suddenly stepped forward. “Leave your families for now. Let them sleep. We aren’t certain if the bandits even know where we are yet. But if there is an attack, someone will ring the bell in the meeting hall, as we planned. Your wives, husbands, and children will know to retreat to the caves then.”

  Sophia fell back. Some of the men began to grumble in uncertainty, but Bryce caught their attention. “We’ve prepared for this. Your families know what to do. If you hear the bell, stay at your posts! We won’t know how many of the bandits there are and they could be attacking at more than one location. Abandoning your post won’t protect your families.”

  Most of the grumbles quieted. Braddon clapped his hands together to get things moving.

  Bryce stepped up to Cory. “You’re with me again. Stay close this time.”

  “I spoke to Jerrain—”

  “I don’t need to hear it. All I need is for you to follow my orders.”

  Cory clamped his mouth shut.

  “You’re my gods-damned runner, Cory. If we do get attacked, you’re to head back here and make certain the bell is rung and the rest of these people get to the caves.”

  “I sent Jerrain to find the University students and mentors.”

  “Why in hells would you do that?”

  “Because we didn’t just read books at the University. We work with the Tapestry. There’s got to be something we can do besides flail around with a sword or cower in a cave!”

  Bryce flicked a hand in dismissal and turned his back. Half of those gathered had already headed off into the darkness carrying torches or lanterns. Cory glanced back toward the trees and the refugee camp, but he didn’t see Hernande or any of the others.

  They ran into the hills to the northeast of the village, the rest of the group shadowy figures to either side. Cory kept to the back. They slowed when they reached the steepest part of the hill, forced to ascend in a switchback pattern, the ground slippery. Cory slid two or three times, catching himself with one hand, before they reached the top.

  Once there, they ran into another group, already settled in. Bryce spoke with the leader briefly, then headed east along the ridge, the group they left behind dousing their lantern as soon as they’d left. They passed four more groups before Bryce finally reached the location he’d chosen earlier.

  “Spread out and settle in. And shutter that lantern. But don’t lose sight of each other.”

  As the others complied, Bryce snagged Cory’s arm. “I meant what I said earlier. If we’re attacked, race back to the village and make certain that bell is rung. There are other runners besides you, but don’t count on one of them making it.”

  Cory scanned the area, choosing the shadows of a fallen tree toward the back of the line, ten paces from where Bryce crouched down behind a large boulder.

  The faint light of their lantern cut off abruptly, plunging Cory’s spot into complete darkness. He heard rustling as the rest of the group adjusted their positions, one or two coughing quietly.

  Then silence settled. Or what passed for silence in the woods. A breeze rustled in the leaves of the branches overhead. The boles of the trees creaked. Somewhere close, an owl hooted and the undergrowth crackled as smaller night creatures roamed the forest floor; they were too close to the village for larger game. Cory shifted as his leg began to cramp, resting his head back. Overhead, the sky was black, thick clouds obscuring the moon and stars. He could taste rain on the wind.

  An hour later, a runner passed through, reporting to Bryce that no one had seen anything or anyone. Shortly after that, the rain started, a faint misty drizzle that strengthened into a chilling downpour. Someone groaned and another cursed, until Bryce muttered a curt warning. The group fell silent again, the sigh of the rain hitting the leaves above overriding all of the other night noises.

  The adrenaline had long worn off when the birdcall came faintly from the northeast. Cory had nearly fallen asleep a dozen times, head jerking upward after his chin had sagged onto his chest. The call barely registered.

  But Bryce shifted behind his rock and hissed a warning. Cory’s hand fell to his sword as he twisted into a crouch, the earth wet and squishy beneath him. The rain hadn’t slackened and water ran down his face, dripped from his chin. He shivered with the cold. To either side, the others shifted into ready positions as well. Cory glanced toward Bryce, who shook his head slightly, then focused on the darkness be
yond their location.

  He heard nothing but the rain for nearly ten minutes, then the unmistakable snap of a branch underfoot. His hand jerked involuntarily and he swallowed back a bitter taste coating his tongue.

  Figures edged out of the darkness—three, then four . . . no, five. Bryce pulled back further behind his stone, letting the shrouded men creep closer. He signaled to the others, none of whom Cory could see through the rain, then ordered Cory to stay put.

  When the bandits had come flush with Bryce’s position, the Dog moved.

  His dagger cut into the side of the nearest man as he drew his sword, the bandit dropping without a sound. He cut another man’s throat as the bandit jerked back in surprise and began to shout, the warning ending in a gurgle. The others had attacked as well, figures dropping on all sides with only grunts or gasps of shock. It was over in moments, Cory’s held breath expelled in a huff. He’d clutched the hilt of his sword so hard his fingers were cramping. His entire body trembled in aftershock.

  He hadn’t even moved from behind his fallen tree.

  Bryce straightened from examining one of the bandits when someone shouted to the west, a roar breaking the odd rain-soaked night, followed by the sudden sharp clash of steel on steel. The sounds escalated, the fight spreading. More shouts broke the stillness, coming from the north.

  Bryce spat a curse. “Rex, stay here with Cory. The rest of you, come with me!”

  They charged out along the ridge in the direction of the fight. Cory lurched upright. “What about the village? Do I ring the bell?”

  But they were gone. He turned to Rex—

  And saw two more figures emerging from the darkness, directly behind the Hollower.

  “Rex!”

  He lurched toward the swineherd.

  Rex twisted as the lead figure reached him. He cried out, one arm snapping up to protect himself as the other lashed out with his sword in an unwieldy slash. The bandit’s blade clanged into the makeshift armor Rex wore on his forearm, slid down to the joint and cut into flesh. Rex screamed, his own blade finding the bandit’s gut and slicing across it. Blood gushed from both wounds, black in the darkness, the bandit roaring as his hand clamped down over his stomach. Larger than Rex, he sagged to his knees as he yanked his sword out of Rex’s arm and tried to stab the Hollower again.

  But his blade met Cory’s. Cory didn’t remember drawing it, didn’t even remember moving. As the swineherd fell back, arm cradled to his chest, Cory shunted the bandit’s sword to the ground, staggering as the bandit collapsed forward onto his stomach and groaned. The second bandit grinned, his teeth startlingly white in the darkness, face streaked with rivulets of rain, beard matted to his chest.

  “Not much of a fighter, are ya?” He blew the rain from his mouth in a spray. His voice was thick and cracked at the edges. “None of ya are. Easy pickins, then.”

  He lunged.

  Cory dodged, slid in the slick muck on the ground as he scrambled aside. The bandit’s blade snagged his pant leg and cut deep into the earth, the bandit cursing. Cory’s leg twinged as he pulled himself into a crouch, back hunched, his entire left arm and side covered in chunky muck. But he still gripped his sword.

  The bandit jerked his blade from the ground and glowered at him. “Quick bastard.” All of his light-hearted, malicious humor had died.

  He struck quick and without forewarning, Cory barely bringing his sword up in time. The clang of metal on metal shivered up Cory’s arm, throbbed in his shoulder. But he didn’t have time to recover, the bandit’s next blow coming in hard from the opposite direction.

  Cory stepped back, his feet hitting one of the already fallen bodies. He pitched backward. His back slammed hard into the squelching earth, jarring the breath from him, and his sword snapped out of his grip.

  He rolled to the side, grasping for his blade, but the bandit kicked him hard in the gut. Pain exploded outward from his stomach and he gagged, heaving in a torn gasp of air, coughed it back out as he curled around his gut. He reached toward the sword again.

  The bandit’s feet appeared before him, one settling on his outstretched hand, pressing down hard. If not for the softened earth, Cory knew his wrist or the bones in his hand would have snapped. The pain made him yelp and he cocked his head so that he could look up into the bandit’s eyes.

  The bandit grinned again, as he ground his foot down harder.

  Cory moaned.

  Something inside him tore, and a white-hot anger poured forth.

  He looked up through the scraggly tendrils of hair plastered to his face and reached for the Tapestry. He twisted it, pulled it tight and knotted it before the bandit’s chest.

  Then he punched it forward and released it.

  The bandit reeled back, a startled look crossing his face as he tripped over another body, sprawling back. Cory snatched up his sword, the bones of his hand screaming in agony, then staggered to the bandit’s side. Before the man could recover, he sank the blade into his chest. It slid in with surprising ease, one edge grating against bone, the sensation traveling up through his hand and into his arm and chest. The bandit bucked up and gasped, mouth opening as if to scream, but all that came out was a bloody cough, the fluid black. He coughed again, heels digging into the earth as he tried to push himself away, arms flailing. He’d dropped his sword.

  Then he sank back to the earth, hands reaching for the blade jutting from his chest, his eyes searching out Cory’s. Before he could grab the steel, he collapsed back, as if all of his strings had been cut.

  Cory let go of the hilt and staggered back a step. He leaned forward, his bruised abdomen aching. The anger that had suffused him as the bandit stepped on his hand had died, leaving him hollow and shaky. He sank down to his knees, hunched forward.

  The ferric scent of blood slammed into him.

  He retched, his gut screaming at the new abuse, but he couldn’t stop, even after his stomach had emptied. When it finally ended, he sank to one side and spat.

  He had only experienced terror like this once before, outside the walls of the University, after the Shattering, when everyone had loaded up into wagons to escape the quickening of the distortion. They’d been attacked by the Wolves.

  But this was different. He and Hernande had protected one of the wagons loaded with supplies and children. The Wolves had gone after the Dogs and fighters, like Bryce. He hadn’t needed to use the knife he’d held.

  Here, he’d killed. And not a Wolf.

  Another human being.

  His stomach heaved again, and he rolled back to his hands and knees.

  “Cory?”

  The voice was barely discernible through the rain, ragged with pain.

  Rex.

  Cory jerked upright, stumbled toward where he thought Rex had fallen, but it was the bandit the swineherd had gutted. Slipping on to the next dark shape, he found Rex shivering, arm clutched to his chest, his face shockingly pale in the dark.

  “C-Cory.” Relief flooded the herder’s face.

  “Let me check it.”

  Rex withdrew the hand holding his arm to his chest.

  Cory’s stomach lurched again at the sight of bone, a sizeable chunk of Rex’s arm near the elbow simply gone. “Stay there.” He crawled to the nearest body, removing the man’s belt. Distantly, he heard fighting, but it was difficult to place through the hissing rain. Cursing, he scrambled back to Rex and hastily cinched the belt as tight as possible around Rex’s upper arm, the herder moaning. Rex’s eyes fluttered, and Cory slapped him to keep him conscious.

  “Stay awake. I can’t carry you.”

  Then he wrapped his arm beneath Rex’s neck and hauled him up into a sitting position. He tucked his shoulder into Rex’s armpit, beneath his good arm, and with Rex’s help managed to stand.

  Through the pouring rain, they began making their way down the side of the ridge.
r />   “Where . . . going?”

  “Back to the Hollow. You need to get to Logan. And I need to make certain someone rings that damn bell.”

  Eight

  CORY STAGGERED INTO THE HOLLOW’S CENTRAL AREA, Rex’s body a dead weight hanging on his shoulders. The swineherd had nearly made it to the village, then passed out within a hundred yards of the outlying cottages. Cory had dragged him the rest of the way, but now his strength gave out. He let the Hollower sag to the ground.

  “Logan! Over here!”

  In the center of the village, a small group of those left behind suddenly turned. They’d been focused on the ridge to the north, although they couldn’t see or hear anything through the pounding rain.

  “It’s Cory!”

  Cory settled Rex’s body as carefully as he could as nearly the entire group raced toward him, Hernande and Logan in the lead.

  “He took a sword to the arm. It’s bad. It cut deep.”

  Logan knelt on the ground, hands flying over Rex’s body, looking for damage. Morrell threw herself down next to him.

  Paul stepped forward, the others gathering around. “What’s happening?”

  Cory thrust himself up from Rex’s side and pushed through the crowd. “The bandits attacked. Bryce and the others are fighting them off now. We need to get everyone to the caves.”

  Paul grabbed his arm and halted him. “Are you certain that’s necessary? We haven’t seen or heard anyone.”

  “Let go of my arm.” When Paul’s grip merely tightened, Cory jerked his arm free. “We need to sound the alarm. Now.”

  He spun, everyone stepping out of his way, and broke into a trot toward the meeting hall and the medium-sized bell on a stand erected before it. Reaching beneath its mouth, he grabbed the rope hanging down from the clapper and began hauling it back and forth.