Planet Urth: The Fate of Urth (Book 5)

by Jennifer Martucci

  Leaning forward, Lark grabs both his hands. “No. No one was as brave as you were. The way you raced out there without even thinking about your own safety.” She’s so raw, so earnest. I have to remind myself that she broke Oliver’s heart completely not long ago, and considering I view him as a brother, it was hard to be around her in the weeks and months that followed. Seeing her as she is now, grateful, vulnerable and sincere, I vacillate between wanting to interrupt them and retell the awful story and rooting for them to kiss and make up. I’m relatively certain I know which one Oliver would prefer.

  “I was worried about you, didn’t want to see anything bad happen to you.” Oliver keeps his gaze pinned on the ground below, only chancing an infrequent peek through his long, dark lashes from time to time.

  “You saved my life.” She says each word slowly, thoughtfully. Pink touches her cheeks. Her gaze is unwavering as Oliver’s eyes lift to meet it.

  In the instant that their eyes meet, I feel as if I’m intruding upon an intimate moment, that everyone present is intruding upon their moment. Biting my lower lip, I turn and look away, my gaze landing on Brom. Meaty arms are folded across his chest and he wears a look that can only be described as disdainful. His scorn for their obvious emotion sends an unexpected bolt of heat blazing through me. “Hey Brom!” I call to him, my mouth working ahead of my thoughts. “Thanks for helping out with the snake!” Unconcealed venom drips from my words.

  “What’re you talking about?” he asks and only fans the flames of rage I feel. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. Playing coy with me is an insult.

  “You’re the only one who didn’t bother to help.” I don’t say another word to qualify what he didn’t help with. But I go on to hiss, “You just stood by like a coward.”

  Brom’s jaw clicks, frothing anger as tangible as the rocks beneath my feet gurgling below the surface of his skin.

  My smile is pure poison when I send it his way, waiting for his response.

  A muscle in his jaw ticks and rage shines in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to rush out there to my death. What good would that’ve done?” His voice is calm, controlled, the total opposite of what I see scrawled in his features. In fact, he has all the calm and control of a coiled snake poised to strike.

  A flicker of apprehension skates down my spine. Have I underestimated Brom? I wonder. I doubt it. So I push him. “We didn’t die. We fought together and lived. No thanks to you.”

  Licking his teeth, his brow dips low and he levels a gaze my way intended to kill me where I stand. I roll my shoulders back and straighten my posture. I won’t be cowed by anyone, least of all a man like Brom. He arcs one bushy brow and a slow, malevolent smile stretches across his face like a lazy cat waking from a nap and finding itself in a field of mice.

  The pain in my head that became slightly tolerable as I watched Oliver and Lark explodes back to life in a rush of stomach churning queasiness.

  Brom waves his hand in front of his face as if swatting an offensive odor, dismissing me. “Ah, everything turned out okay. The girl lived and the serpent didn’t. The end.”

  Grinding my molars so hard they threaten to splinter, I resist the urge to keep at him, to goad him into the outburst that percolates within him. But a quick look at the waning sunlight causes me to reevaluate my plans, to ignore my urge.

  Sully catches my eye. He questions me wordlessly. Not hearing my interaction with Brom, he undoubtedly wonders why I look as though I’m ready to attack. I close my eyes and shake my head to tell him “not now” then cast my eyes skyward. A vibrant blaze of gold makes a final stand against streaks of purple and slashes of orange. Gray, wispy clouds crawl lazily across an expanding canvas of violet as twilight presses forward, encroaching with every second that passes. Following my gaze, his expression turns serious. He says something to Arnost that I can’t hear then makes his way toward me.

  “We need to go,” I say as soon as he’s in earshot. “We don’t have a lot of light left.”

  “I know. We need to hurry.”

  We exchange a meaningful glance just before June joins us. “Where are we going to go? Is there even a place that’s safe?” Despair spikes her tone. She looks all around us. Water dominates one side while dense foliage fills the remainder of the space.

  “I wish I had an answer for you.” I don’t bother to temper the truth with promises I can’t keep or information I don’t have. “All I know is that we need to head west toward Cassowary.” I eye the setting sun. “And we need to hurry because at any moment, those mutant creatures could find their way down the embankment and attack.” Hearing myself say the words aloud makes me shudder.

  June rubs her arms where visible goose bumps have arisen. “You’re right. We need to go.” She sniffs and looks around. “They could be anywhere, watching us; waiting.”

  “Urthmen hate water,” Sully reminds her in an effort to allay her fears.

  Training her silvery-blue eyes on him, her voice is low and hoarse. “Yeah, Urthmen do, but those things aren’t like any Urthmen I’ve ever come across.”

  Sully drops his gaze to his shoes and bobs his head solemnly. “That’s right. They’re not.”

  “Whatever they are, or were, we need to get as far from them as possible. And we need to get out of the woods. Those things aren’t the only monsters that roam.” I don’t say the word “Lurker.” I don’t need to. June knows all too well that the nocturnal predators feed as soon as night claims day.

  Cold fear washes over her expression, the memory of them scratching at the entrance of our cave so many years ago still as fresh in her mind as it is in mine. “Let’s go now,” she says with a tremor in her tone.

  “I’ll go tell Arnost and the others we’re going,” Sully says before he jogs away.

  After a quick look at Oliver and Lark, though I hate to interrupt the moment they’re experiencing, I make my way over to them. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I wait for them to notice that I’m standing close by. When they don’t, I’m forced to speak. “Hey. I know you guys must be drained but we can’t stay here. We’ve got to keep moving.”

  Oliver turns to face me, his translucent aquamarine eyes, identical to his late brother’s, striking against his bronze skin. He stands slowly and folds his arms across his chest. Lark watches his every move, her pupils dilating and her gaze widening. Her interest in him is plain, her feelings obvious. “Yeah, we need to get out of here, get as far away from those things as possible.” He looks around, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinizes the immediate vicinity.

  “If we head west we should eventually reach Cassowary.” My voice returns his attention to me. “But we don’t have even a second to spare. It’ll be dark fast.”

  His lips thin and tighten over his teeth as he’s reminded of yet another element of danger added to the already perilous journey we’re confronted with.

  He nods, his brow dipped determinedly. “I’m ready now. Let’s get out of here.” He turns to Lark and, softening both his tone and facial expression, reaches out a hand to her. “Are you well enough to walk?”

  Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she bats her eyelashes and says, “I think so,” in a quiet voice. She slips her long, slender fingers into his hand and rises slowly from her seat on the mossy log.

  “Well, just hold onto me if you need to, okay?” he says, his tone sincere.

  “Okay.” Her grip on his hand tightens as she gives it a squeeze.

  Color touches her cheeks once again and I notice that faints bands of pink deepen the toasty tan shade of Oliver’s complexion as well.

  I leave Lark and Oliver and return to June. Sully has returned and as soon as I reach him, we all begin our trek away from the river. Young trees with slender trunks border the pebbly terrain, but quickly thin trees and sparse bushes give way to denser growth. The meager light available dims as treetops canopy the forest completely.

  “I can barely make out the path we were on,” June comments in a low concerned voice.
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  The path to which she refers was little more than a six-inch wide area of dirt that wound, pulling us deeper and deeper into the darkened heart of the woodland, and wasn’t overrun by braided vines that slunk from the ground and up into branches.

  “I think the path disappeared a while back.” Sully tosses his thumb over his shoulder and gestures behind him.

  A vine snags June’s ankle and she stumbles briefly before regaining her footing. “Jeez, you’re not kidding.” She huffs a thick curl from her brow.

  All around me, the woods feel watchful as we walk, as if it’s waiting with bated breath for us pass through. Quickening my pace, I jog, all too aware of the sensation of being watched. My shirt and pants cling to my body, damp with perspiration, as exertion and nerves work against me. Movement in the brush startles me. I slow and listen, reaching out with all of my senses and drawing both June and Sully’s attention. Plants shift, swaying from side to side as a faint breeze stirs treetops. Beneath the sound of the stirring, however, another exists, lower and nearer to the ground. I stand perfectly still, ignoring the frantic beat of my heart as it slams against my ribcage. In my periphery, I see Sully fingers the hilt of his blade at his hip. A purposeful swish of dried leaves and tall grass whispers in the air and gains momentum, and I find myself faced with a decision to make. I can stay and risk being ambushed by whatever lurks in the woods, or try to evade it altogether and run as fast as I can, leading my people away. Either way, death is a very real possibility, a hefty price tag I’m unwilling to pay. A quick glance at June and Sully reinforces that sentiment.

  Another footfall echoes, closer; too close. I freeze, holding my breath this time, and raise a hand for the others to see. June and Sully both stand ramrod stiff, eyes sweeping the foliage, while the others pause and scan the surrounding brush. Fortifying my stance, I space my feet shoulder-width apart, and draw my weapon. June slips an arrow from her quiver and places it in her bow, pulling it taut with the stealth and silence of a trained assassin.

  Clutching the cold, steel hilt of my blade, I wait for the sound again; wait to be attacked from any direction.

  The rush of my heartbeat drumming dangerously behind my ears puts me at a disadvantage. All I can hear is it for a moment.

  Panic fills me. A bead of cold sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades, leaving a clammy, chilled path in its wake.

  A branch snaps on either side of me simultaneously. A quick glance at the others reveals that they’ve heard what I’ve heard. I didn’t consider the possibility of synchronized attacks, until this very moment, that is, when I believe that’s precisely what’s happening. Two quick steps advance behind me. With my heart knocking wildly in my chest, I spin to face whatever approaches, ready battle. But when I turn, I see that nothing attacks. Only a plump, fuzzy creature with black fur that resembles a mask about his eyes waddles from a low-growing bush covered in thorny growth. It looks up, its eyes reflecting an odd electric green light in their dark irises, then upon seeing me, scuttles off and disappears into the woods.

  Clutching the center of my chest, I double over, a cautious sense of relief lightening the heavy anxiety that plagued me just seconds ago. “Oh my gosh,” I breathe.

  I steal a sidelong glance at Sully. His hands are on his knees and he’s bent at the waist. June mumbles something about a raccoon and after muttering a word I’ve heard Sully use before, one I’d prefer she doesn’t use ever again.

  Shaking off the weak-kneed unsteady feeling I experienced, I shake my head and straighten my posture. I resume walking and June and Sully, along with the others, follow.

  Hurrying past thickets that look impermeable and watching for Lurker burrows, the sky above becomes visible. The faintest band of salmon hovers above a darkened horizon as swaths of navy overwhelm it. Day has begun to fall to night, and if we don’t leave the woods soon, we will fall to something far more nefarious than dusk.

  Muscles stinging and lungs burning, I don’t know how long I’ve jogged for but am grateful when I see the trees and bushes begin to thin. The longer we continue, in fact, I realize that surrounding growth has been intentionally cleared, and that a village waits ahead.

  “What the heck is this?” Arnost asks as soon as huts built of rough lumber with thatched roofs come into view.

  “Who would build a village in these woods? Urthmen don’t live in this area anymore,” Oliver comments and Lark, still holding his hand, huddles close to him.

  “The Urthmen that we know of don’t live in these parts,” she adds and Oliver pulls her even closer.

  “This is human land. There better not be any filthy Urthmen living this close to our cities.” Brom’s gruff voice rumbles over the chirp and buzz of insects.

  Taking a few cautious steps over what appears to be the threshold of the village, I concentrate, listening for any sounds of movement, any sound of life. When none are heard, I take several more steps.

  “Ah, this tiptoeing around is ridiculous,” Brom huffs and plods past me.

  A part of me wants to shout at him that now he’s being brave, now that a threat isn’t perceived, but I hold my tongue. Arguing with Brom at this point would be as productive as shouting at the moon. So I enter the village behind him, stopping where he stands gawking at the scattering of Urthmen littering the pathways. The smell hits me first, the fetid stench of decaying flesh permeating my nasal passages and instigating a gag. My eyes water and bitterness rises in the back of my throat. I blink to clear the tears and cover my nose and mouth with my sleeve. The material does little to suppress the urge to retch, for what I see is an example of vile butchery. The Urtmen before me aren’t the mutant kind we saw in Galway, and most of the corpses are half-eaten. Male, female and children have been slaughtered in the same fashion our people at Galway were. Looking at the bodies as they are, a strange feeling overtakes me. I never dreamed I’d feel any in of connection to them, and really I don’t. The only common thread that connects us is a possible a common enemy. And even that is unclear at present.

  “Those mutant Urthmen creatures did this,” Lark says and sounds as if she’s on the verge of tears.

  “How could those things do this to their own kind?” June asks.

  “I don’t think those things are their kind,” I gesture to the fallen Urthmen and reply. “And judging by the smell this didn’t just happen.”

  Sully uses his sleeve to cover his nose and mouth but moves it long enough to say, “Yeah, they must’ve been here for at least a day.”

  Snarling his upper lip over his teeth, Arnost says, “So those monsters already know their way through this forest. They’ve been here before.”

  Sully looks from Arnost to me, a haunted expression veiling his features. “We’re in a worse position than we thought.”

  His words slither like a snake up my spine. If the monsters are familiar with the forest, then they’re familiar with the terrain around it as well. Our cities occupy that land. Goose bumps coat my skin, the hair at my nape rising and quivering.

  With the horrifying notion that our cities are being stalked by them, I pass Brom and move deeper into the village. Hundreds of Urthmen lay dead. Throats are torn open, limbs gnawed off. The scene is no different from the nightmarish one that unfolded at Galway, the only difference is in Galway, the fallen were my friends. The Urthmen here, they’re my enemies, though confusingly, I feel no hatred for these slain ones whatsoever, a phenomenon that shocks me. All my life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to wipe the planet clean of Urthmen, yet seeing them as they are now, knowing that the same creatures that did this to them did this to our people as well, leaves me with conflicting feelings.

  But both my conflict and my fear for my people are seized when a loud noise sounds from a shed a few feet from where I stand. Whipping my head around, I twist to face Sully and Oliver. I motion for them to join me, pointing to the shed first then placing my index finger to my lips to warn them to be silent. They advance, followed by Arnost, Lark, Brom and the oth
ers. We move as quietly as possible to the shed as additional noises thump and clunk. With a hand on the small, metal latch, I hold up a hand to halt everyone. They stop moving and await my next move. In one swift motion, I slide the latch and yank the wooden door toward me, revealing what appears to be gardening gear, and an Urthman hunched in the far corner. His head snaps up and black eyes filled with fear widen. He isn’t mutated as the ones we saw before we plunged into the lake were. He looks like every other Urthman I’ve ever seen.

  “Please don’t kill me. I’m unarmed. I-I don’t want any trouble,” the Urthman pleads, and for the first time in my entire life, I believe what he’s saying, and do not feel the burgeoning need to end his life.

  Chapter 9

  “Filthy monster!” The words tumble from Brom in an angry shout as he grabs a fistful of the Urthman’s shirt and drives his knee into his gut. The Urthman expels a loud grunt, doubling over and attempting to clutch his midsection, but when he bends forward, his jaw is met by Brom’s tightly balled hand. The punch explodes against his face, driving it back so that it slams into the wall behind him. The walls of the shed shake and the Urthman gasps for air, a thin rivulet of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  Brom cocks his fist again and is about to launch it when I halt him. “All right, that’s enough!” I shout.

  Still poised to strike, Brom slowly turns to face me, his brow low, eyes narrowed to scythe-like slashes and his lips pressed to a hard line. “It’s a filthy Urthman. Why should I stop?” He spits every word deliberately, enunciating each with unharnessed anger.

  Matching his tone and speech pattern, I say, “Don’t you want to hear what happened here, why those things are attacking their own kind—if Urthmen even are their own kind?”

  Regarding the Urthman in his clutches with revulsion he snarls at him, and then at me before he releases him with a shove. He snorts derisively then takes a step backward.

  The Urthman drops to one knee and faces me. “Azlyn, please, I mean you no harm, the Uganna do. They won’t stop until you’re dead, until all of us are dead.”